Lost City - Cussler Clive (читать онлайн полную книгу .txt) 📗

"Sorry," Austin said. "I'm not used to this plane." "Your childish maneuvers will get you nowhere. I'm intimately acquainted with the capabilities of the Aviatik. I would hate to lose it, but I'm willing to suffer the loss of the plane if necessary. Watch." Emil must have given his pilot an order because the helicopter

rose above the Aviatik and dropped until its runners were a few feet above Austin's head. The biplane pitched and yawed dangerously under the powerful downdraft. Austin pushed the plane's nose down and the helicopter followed, staying with the aircraft to show that escape was impossible. After a few seconds, the helicopter pulled away and began to pace the plane again.

Emil's voice came over Austin's earphones. "As you see, I can force you down anytime. Turn around or you and your lady friend will die." "I might not be of any use to you, but if she goes, the secret of the helmet goes with her."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Maybe you should ask your mother first," Austin said. Emil cursed in French, and seconds later the helicopter appeared over the biplane. The runners came down hard on the Aviatik's wings above Austin's head and pushed the biplane down. The chopper lifted off and hammered the Aviatik again. Austin fought to keep control. It was an unequal contest. The fabrif-and-wood plane was no match for the faster and more maneuverable helicopter. Emil could pummel the plane until it crashed or fell apart.

Austin grabbed the mike. "You win, Emil. What do you want me to do?"

"Head back to the landing strip. Don't try any tricks. I'll be waiting for you."

I bet you'll be waiting, Austin thought.

Austin banked the plane and brought it around. Skye had been listening to the conversation on her earphones. "Kurt, we can't go back," she said over the intercom. "He'll kill you."

"If we don't go back, he'll kill both of us."

"I don't want you doing this for me."

"I'm not. I'm doing it for me."

"Damnit, Austin. You're as stubborn as a Frenchman."

"I'll take that as a compliment. But I draw the line at eating snails and frog's legs."

"All right, I give up," she said with exasperation. "But I'm not going down without a fight."

"Neither am I. Make sure your seat belt is tight." He clicked the intercom off and concentrated on the ominous towers that marked the ancestral home of the man who wanted to kill him. As the biplane neared the chateau, Austin could see the twin lines of light that marked the airfield. He put the Aviatik in a banking turn as if he were heading toward the lights, but as he neared the chateau, he turned in the opposite direction and flew directly toward the nearest turret.

The helicopter kept pace. Emils voice came over the radio. He was shouting in French. Austin shrugged, turned down the radio and turned his full attention to the task ahead.

The helicopter peeled away just when it seemed the plane would smash into the tower. With a few yards to spare, Austin veered off, missing the turret by yards, and flew over the chateau itself, in a diagonal line toward the opposite tower. He put the plane in a tight circle around the tower and came back over the complex in a figure eight. Then he flew around the next tower and executed the same pattern. He could only imagine what Emil's reaction would be, but he didn't care. He was wagering that Fauchard wouldn't try to force him down as long as he stayed over the chateau.

Austin knew he couldn't run figure eights forever. Nor did he intend to. With each banking turn, his eyes had swept the grounds beyond the moat. He switched the radio back on. Then he rounded the tower and started another figure eight, but halfway through it he veered off, passed over the circular driveway with its bizarre fountain and headed toward the lights that marked the long drive.

The helicopter had been circling high above. Once Austin was clear of the walls, the helicopter swooped down until it was directly

over the Aviatik. Austin put the plane into a deep glide until the wheels were only a few yards over the pavement. Fauchard's pilot could have forced him down at any time, but he probably thought that Austin was going to land in the driveway so held off. The moment of indecision cost him dearly.

Instead of landing, Austin flew into the tunnel of trees.

The chopper climbed, its runners clipping the treetops. The pilot executed a g-force turn and circled.

Austin heard Fauchard's voice on the radio. He was shouting, "Get him! Get him!"

Following Fauchard's orders, the helicopter pilot followed the Aviatik into the arbor like a hound chasing a fox down a hole.

With its superior speed, the helicopter quickly caught up with the plane. Austin heard the thrashing of rotors over the sound of the Aviatik engine. His lips widened in a tight smile. He'd been worried that the helicopter would simply fly over the woods and wait for him to emerge from the other end of the tunnel.. The insult about Fauchard's mother must have angered Emil beyond reason, as Austin hoped it would. No one liked being called a mama's boy, especially when it was true.

Austin was keeping the plane's wheels six feet above the road. He had a few yards of clearance above and on either side, but it was a tight fit and a slight deviation would leave the plane wingless or Austin headless.

The helicopter was right on his tail, but Austin tried to put his pursuer out of his mind. He kept his attention fixed on the distant dark spot that marked the other end of the tunnel. About halfway through the tunnel, Austin calmly reached out and pulled the lever that activated the spray pods.

Pesticide sprayed from the wing tanks in toxic twin streams, expanding into a noxious white cloud. The poisonous liquid coated the helicopter's windshield and blinded the pilot, then flowed through

the open vent windows, transforming the chopper's cockpit into a flying gas chamber.

The pilot screamed in pain and took his hands off the controls to wipe the stinging liquid from his eyes. The helicopter slipped sideways, the rotors clipping the trees. The blades disintegrated, and the fuselage whipped around, careened into the woods and broke apart. Spraying fuel ignited and the chopper exploded in a huge orange -and-white fireball.

Flying ahead of the blast, Austin came out of the tunnel like a cannonball. He pulled back on the elevator and the plane rose out of the woods. As the Aviatik slowly gained altitude, Austin looked over his shoulder. Smoke and fire belched from the mouth of the tunnel and the blaze had spread to the trees.

He switched the intercom back on. "We're in the clear," he said.

"I've been trying to talk to you," Skye said. "What happened back there?"

"I was doing a little pest control," Austin said.

In the distance he could see beads of light marking roads and towns. Before long, car headlights were moving below them. Austin searched until he found a road that was well lit enough to land on, yet empty of traffic, and brought the plane down in a bumpy but safe landing. He taxied the plane off the highway and left it at the edge of a meadow.

As soon as their feet were back on ground, Skye embraced Austin and planted her lips on his in a kiss that was more than friendly. Then they began to walk. Despite their cuts and bruises, they were in a lighthearted mood after their escape. Austin breathed in the smell of grass and barns, and put his arm around Skye.

After about an hour of walking, they came upon a quaint auberge. The night clerk was half-asleep, but he sat up at full attention when Austin and Skye walked into the lobby and asked if they could have a room.