Midnight Runner Part 33

"To h.e.l.l with you."

"All right, I'll do it."

Dillon switched from the automatic pilot to manual control, banked to port, and started toward the coastline, two or three miles away.

Unlike most planes, the Black Eagle sported an ignition key. She reached for it now and switched it off, then pulled out the key. The engines stuttered to a halt. She pushed open the quarter-light in the window beside her and tossed the ignition key out.

"There you are, Dillon. We'll go to h.e.l.l together."

"That was very stupid. But it's surprising how far you can glide in one of these things."

She looked out at the mist as they descended to the distant sh.o.r.e. "We'll never make it. We're going into the water, and even if you could land this thing on water, a light aircraft like this will only float for a minute and a half."

"Very true, but there's a life raft back there-and I do happen to know how to land on water. Do you?"

"d.a.m.n you, Dillon!"

They were down to six hundred feet, and he said, "Let me tell you. Keep your landing gear up, full flaps. Light winds and small waves, land into the wind; if it's a heavy wind and big waves, land parallel to the crests."

And then they were close, there were small waves, and he landed into the wind. They bounced across the waves and settled.

"Come on," he ordered, and scrambled out of his seat, made it to the door, and opened it. He moved to the luggage compartment, got the life raft, and tossed it out. It started to inflate automatically.

He turned to call her again and saw her leaning out of the c.o.c.kpit and picking up Rupert Dauncey's Walther, which had slid along the side because of the incline of the plane.

"I told you I'd see you in h.e.l.l," she cried.

As Dillon ducked, she fired wildly. The round plucked at his right sleeve, and he flung himself out of the door into water of mind-numbing coldness and struck out, grabbing for the raft's line. He hung on and turned. The Eagle had tilted more now, the tail up, the port wing under the water.

She was still there in the c.o.c.kpit, screaming at him, one hand gripping the open quarter-light, and then the tail lifted high and the Eagle simply slipped beneath the surface.

He made it to the life raft and hauled himself inside. There were two paddles and a couple of survival boxes he didn't bother to open. He slid the paddles through the oarlocks, no other emotion left in him except a stubborn need to survive.

He started to row toward the sh.o.r.e, distant in the mist and rain. It was a long way off, but not as far as Kate Rashid had gone.

t.i.tLES BY JACK HIGGINS.

Midnight RunnerThe Graveyard ShiftEdge of DangerDay of ReckoningThe Keys of h.e.l.lThe White House ConnectionIn the Hour Before MidnightEast of DesolationThe President's DaughterPay the DevilFlight of EaglesYear of the TigerDrink with the DevilNight Judgement at SinosAngel of DeathShebaOn Dangerous GroundThunder PointEye of the Storm (also published as Midnight Man)The Eagle Has FlownCold HarbourMemories of a Dance-Hall RomeoA Season in h.e.l.lNight of the FoxConfessionalExocetTouch the DevilLuciano's LuckSoloDay of JudgmentStorm WarningThe Last Place G.o.d MadeA Prayer for the DyingThe Eagle Has LandedThe Run to MorningDillingerTo Catch a KingThe Valhalla ExchangeThe Khufra RunA Game for HeroesThe Wrath of G.o.d