The Einstein Pursuit (34 page)

‘Can you catch him before he gets there?’ Jones asked.

‘It’ll be close,’ the pilot answered.

Two minutes later, the Mexican border came into view, and there was still no sight of the plane.

‘Sir, he’s entered Mexican airspace,’ the pilot confirmed. ‘Looks like he’s set down about ten miles beyond the border.’

‘Show me,’ Payne insisted.

‘Sir, we don’t have authorization to follow beyond the NOLF at Imperial Beach. We need a certified flight plan in coordination with the Mexican government to pursue any farther.’

Payne was familiar with the protocol. NOLF stood for Naval Outlying Landing Field, an auxiliary field used to handle overflow air traffic. Apart from being essentially the largest helipad in the country – it was often labeled the Helicopter Capital of the World – Imperial Beach was also the southernmost occupied point along the west coast. Beyond it was roughly a mile of wildlife refuge and then the US–Mexico border. Flying farther than the field at Imperial Beach risked straining relations between two governments, whose border was already guarded by razor wire and armed patrolmen.

‘Show me the plane, or get out of the chopper,’ Payne stated bluntly. He turned toward Jones. ‘You can fly this thing, right?’

‘Affirmative, Captain,’ Jones deadpanned. ‘Can the pilot swim?’

‘We’re about to find out,’ Payne answered.

The young pilot didn’t know Payne or Jones personally, but the colonel had instructed him to defer to their instructions. He also knew sincerity when he heard it. Rather than risk a cold, dark swim to shore, he decided it was in his best interests to proceed with Payne’s request. He dimmed the cabin lights and dropped the Yankee only a few feet above the water. ‘Be advised, we are continuing our present heading.’

In response to his statement, the Cobra dipped low and took a lead position in front of the Yankee. Without its running lights, which had been turned off the moment it had crossed into Mexico, the attack helicopter was virtually invisible against the dark sky.

Fortunately, the undocumented trip into foreign territory didn’t require them to travel far. They spotted the seaplane as they rounded a small point a minute after crossing the border. It had landed near a small bay and had ridden the swell all the way to shore. The high walls of the coastline and the desolate beach meant there was nowhere for anyone to hide and very little chance they could have made an escape in the brief time since their arrival.

The Cobra swung wide to face the seaplane. It hovered in front of it, each weapon in its arsenal trained on the fuselage.

‘Set us down alongside,’ Payne said.

‘Negative,’ the pilot replied. ‘I can’t touch down, sir. Not on Mexican soil.’

The pilot was doing his best, given the circumstances. Flying into foreign airspace was one thing, but landing there was something else. He was willing to fly them in, but he worried that putting his Yankee on the sand constituted an invasion.

Payne understood the distinction. ‘Drop us in the water. We’ll come up from the rear. Put us directly behind him, the blind spot where he can’t see us coming.’ He opened the cargo door and grabbed the M60 machine gun from the gunner’s hands.

The rotor wash from the hovering Yankee caused a tornado of foam and spray. In the center of it, Payne and Jones jumped into the waist-deep water. Once they were clear of the skids, the pilot pulled the helicopter back to a tactical position above the seaplane.

Payne was surprised to see the pilot of the seaplane in the doorway as they crept into position. His arms were raised in surrender and he was shouting something, but his cries could not be heard above the rotors of the helicopters. Jones pulled the pilot to the ground as Payne cautiously peeked inside.

The plane was old and rickety. There were no seats, only loops of rope bolted to the interior wall for people to hold on to. Payne had seen this type of aircraft before. It was known as a coyote plane. The pilot would pack it full of illegal immigrants – each of whom had paid a hefty sum for the privilege – and smuggle them across the border into the United States. Sometimes the planes made it to land, but more often than not they touched down far off the coast and the passengers would swim ashore.

That was if they were lucky.

Payne had heard horror stories of pilots who, rather than risk being intercepted by the United States Coast Guard or other authorities, would simply fly miles out to sea and force their cargo into the water. Sometimes they wouldn’t even land the plane.

Today, however, there was no one on board.

‘Where are the passengers?’ Payne demanded.

‘
No entiendo
,’ the pilot insisted. ‘
Qué está pasando?
’

Jones was the more language-oriented of the two. He did his best to translate. ‘He doesn’t understand what you’re asking. He’s not sure what’s happening.’

‘Ask him about the two men from the beach. Where did they get off the plane?’

Jones translated the question and the pilot’s response. ‘He says they never got on the plane. He left them on the beach.’

‘What? Why would he do that?’

A moment later, Payne had his answer.

‘He says that was the plan. That’s what he was instructed to do. Wait for the man to come back down the rope, and when he gave him the signal from the beach, he was to take off and fly back to Rosarito. He only made it this far before the engine gave out.’

Payne was stunned. They had been tricked.

Masseri and Sahlberg had stayed behind on shore.

It was a risky plan, letting the plane leave as decoy.

But it had worked.

Masseri smiled. He had watched the plane take off from the relative safety of a cave at the edge of the rock wall. He had heard the arrival of the military helicopters, and he had laughed as they sped out across the sea, giving chase. Only after they had flown out of view did he deploy the small Zodiac he had hidden in the caves at the base of the cliff. The inflatable boat and its engine were prepped in under five minutes.

After loading his unconscious cargo, Masseri sped off into the darkness.

Now that he had secured his target, he could finally breathe a sigh of relief. He knew his mission was still not complete. He understood his ruse with the seaplane would only guarantee a head start, but for the first time in a long time he was comfortable with the situation. He was once again in control. He could dictate the next step. As long as he safely delivered his quarry, he was free to do as he pleased.

Masseri stared at Sahlberg and wondered why he was so important. The plan had been to keep him sedated with a steady stream of narcotics, but now Masseri wasn’t so sure.

It would be a long trip to where they were going.

He might enjoy the conversation.

And some answers.

Payne and Jones loaded the Mexican pilot into the helicopter while the gunner looked on with shocked disapproval.

‘Relax,’ Jones said, ‘he’s my gardener.’

It didn’t have the calming effect that he had hoped for. The gunner nodded, but the glance he shot the Yankee pilot wasn’t one of reassurance. It was more like,
first a foreign incursion, now they’re taking prisoners!

As Jones secured the seaplane pilot, Payne grabbed the Yankee pilot by the shoulder. ‘Take us back to the estate.’

The Yankee pilot nodded and tapped his headset, indicating that Payne should put his on as well. ‘It’s the colonel. He needs to speak with you.’

Payne grabbed his headset, flipped it over his head, and adjusted the microphone. ‘Colonel Smith … I understand, sir, and we’re en route now. You’ll have your birds back within the hour … Yes, sir, heavy by one extra … Yes, sir,
my
responsibility, not yours … Sir, I need another favor. Our target is still missing. I need radar imagery of the original pickup location, starting ten minutes before our departure … It was a misdirect, sir. The target sent us after a decoy. The target and his cargo were extracted through other means, and I need to know how … Thank you, sir … Yes, sir, never again, sir.’

He pulled the headset from his ears and groaned.

‘What was that all about?’ Jones asked.

‘I think we’re starting to wear out our welcome,’ Payne said.

‘
We?
What the hell did
I
do?’

Payne ignored the question. ‘Call Randy. See if he can get us pictures of the abduction.’

The gunner no longer wanted any part of this adventure. He had no idea who Randy was and wasn’t sure if the abduction they were referring to involved the Mexican pilot they had just grabbed south of the border. If so, the last thing he wanted was to be caught on film.

‘Should I be worried, sir?’ he asked Payne.

‘About what?’

‘All this, sir.’

Payne stared at him. ‘That depends. Did you
see
anything, marine?’

‘No, sir. Not a thing, sir.’

‘Then you’ll be fine,’ Payne assured him.

Meanwhile, Jones used his cell phone to call Raskin. It was tough to hear inside the chopper, but they couldn’t risk talking to him over the chopper’s radio.

‘Research,’ Raskin answered.

Jones skipped the pleasantries. ‘I’m currently in the belly of a Yankee, heading toward shore. You remember the old man from the incline?’

‘Of course.’

‘He’s been taken.’

Raskin started tracing the call. ‘From where?’

‘We came to Cali to meet with some colleagues of his, and someone snatched him from the property.’

‘While you were there?’

‘Yes.’

‘How’s Jon taking it?’

Jones looked at his friend. The veins in Payne’s neck pulsed in anger and frustration. ‘How do you think? He’s pissed.’

‘What can I do?’ Raskin asked.

Jones gave him the same coordinates that had been given to Colonel Smith at Camp Pendleton at the start of the rescue mission. ‘Use your birds to zoom in on that position. You should see an expansive waterfront property with a rooftop patio and a long, narrow lawn.’

Raskin zoomed in until he found the property. ‘I’ve got it.’

‘Good. We need to know what kind of activity has transpired on the beach below and off the coast over the last hour. I mean satellite coverage, marine traffic, Coast Guard reports, everything.’

‘Looking for anything in particular?’

‘Two men. Our man and the man who took him. Last seen on the beach.’

‘Got it.’

‘You’re going to see a plane and two helos leaving the site. You can disregard them. We used the choppers to track the plane, but the old man wasn’t on board. It was a decoy.’

‘Please tell me you didn’t steal the helos.’

‘Never,’ Jones said with a laugh. ‘Well, not this time. Pendleton loaned them to us. Trust me, it’s all semi-legit.’

‘I’ll call you when I have something.’

Jones hung up and updated Payne. ‘He’s on it.’

‘Good.’ Payne pointed at the seaplane pilot. ‘In the meantime, find out who hired him.’

Jones relayed the question and then the response. ‘He says he never got a name. The target is about six feet tall, dark complexion, medium build. His instructions were to deliver him to the shore, then wait for his return. When the man signaled, he was to fly back to Rosarito, just as he said before. He said it was easy money.’

Payne cursed. ‘It sounds like the same guy I saw outside the incline. He must have followed us out here.’

‘How?’ Jones wondered.

‘Who knows? Maybe he’s got a contact inside the group. Or maybe he tracked our jet.’ Payne balled his hand into a fist and pounded the side of the chopper. It was a flash of emotion that Jones rarely saw. ‘As of now, it doesn’t matter.’

Payne put his headset back on. ‘How long till we get back?’

‘Almost there, sir,’ the pilot answered.

‘Don’t take us to the house. Drop us on the beach below.’

‘Yes, sir.’ He jerked a thumb back at the Mexican. ‘What about him, sir?’

‘Take him to the stockade. I’m sure immigration would like to have a word with him.’

The pilot nodded his understanding and pointed to the ground up ahead, indicating that they were nearly there. A minute later, Payne and Jones were exiting the Yankee. They had borrowed a couple of flashlights to search the narrow strip of beach, but they found nothing useful.

As the fruitlessness of their efforts began to sink in, Payne’s phone started to ring. He glanced at his caller ID and saw a blocked number. He naturally assumed it was Raskin, calling with an update. ‘What do you have for me, Randy?’

‘This isn’t Randy,’ the voice explained. ‘But I do have something for you.’

‘Who is this?’ Payne demanded as he signaled Jones to trace the call.

Jones dialed Raskin’s number and cut him off before he could offer his customary greeting. ‘Randy, trace Jon’s phone right now. I don’t need a name, just give me the location.’

In his basement office on the other side of the country, Raskin pounded away on one of his keyboards in a frantic attempt to locate the caller.

‘My name is not important,’ Masseri said. ‘What is important is that I have your friend, and I’m willing to give him back to you in one piece.’

Payne cut to the chase. ‘Name your price.’

‘I’m afraid it’s not that simple.’

‘Everyone has a number,’ Payne insisted.

‘If I wanted money, I could simply deliver Dr Sahlberg to those who hired me. I assure you the sum they are willing to pay is more than enough for me to live comfortably for quite some time. No, money is not the issue.’

‘Then what do you want?’

‘I want your expertise,’ Masseri said cryptically. ‘I will return Dr Sahlberg in exchange for services rendered.’

‘What services? What do you want me to do?’

‘Not like this. Not over the phone. Let’s discuss your opportunity in person. Be at the center of the Charles Bridge in Prague. We can discuss the finer points then.’ Masseri laughed and gave him a specific time. ‘Obviously, any attempt to alter this arrangement will be met with certain unpleasant consequences.
Na shledanou
, Jonathon.’

With that, he disconnected the call.

‘Tell me you got that,’ Payne said to Jones.