Chapter 5 - The Edge of the Void
The rain of icy crystals stung my face as I kept my sidearm leveled directly at Victoria’s forehead. Between us lay thirty feet of slick, wind-scoured concrete. Behind her, the four-story drop plunged into the hospital’s jagged loading docks.
“You won't shoot, Victoria,” I called out, my voice cutting through the roar of the rotors with unnatural precision. “Dead hostages don't negotiate life insurance payouts. You kill her, and Julian leaves you on this roof to take the fall for first-degree murder.”
Mercer paused at the chopper door, his eyes darting nervously between Victoria and me. “She’s right, Vance! Drop the weapon! We have offshore clearance to Toronto! You can't touch us once we clear the airspace!”
“He’s using you, Victoria,” I continued, never blinking. “Look at the weight on the chopper skids. It’s an ultra-light fuel configuration for a single passenger. Mercer isn't taking both of you. He never was.”
Victoria’s eyes flickered for a fraction of a second toward Mercer. That tiny fracture of doubt was all I needed.
Clara felt the grip on her collar loosen by a millimeter. With the desperate courage of a child who had endured weeks of solitary torment, she drove her right elbow backward into Victoria’s ribs, right where the stepmother had forced her to wear the suffocating steel stays.
Victoria gasped, her shot discharging harmlessly into the stormy sky.
I moved. Two rapid steps, dropping my center of gravity, bringing my sight picture inline. I didn’t fire at Victoria; I fired two hollow-point rounds into the tail rotor pitch-control link of the Bell 429.
The ceramic linkages shattered with a deafening crack. High-pressure hydraulic fluid sprayed across the engine cowling, catching fire instantly in the turbine exhaust. The helicopter lurched violently sideways, its main blades chewing through the metal safety railings of the helipad.
Mercer screamed as the sudden tilt threw him backward across the ice, spilling his black briefcase. Bundles of hundred-dollar bills and fraudulent bearer bonds scattered into the blizzard like leaves.
Victoria recovered, raising the gun toward Clara’s back as the girl scrambled across the slush toward me.
“No!” Victoria roared.
I lunged forward, using my own body as a ballistic shield, wrapping Clara beneath my torso while leveling my weapon one-handed.
A single round took Victoria through her right shoulder. The impact spun her around, sending my stolen pistol clattering into the darkness below. She crashed against the icy perimeter ledge, clutching her shattered arm, screaming curses that were drowned by the wind.
The helicopter pilot cut the throttle as the turbine backfired into a shower of orange sparks.
The rooftop went deathly quiet, save for the wailing sirens of approaching police cruisers echoing through the valley below.
Clara was buried against my chest, her tiny fingers clutching the collar of my tactical jacket so tightly the knuckles turned blue.
“Daddy,” she whispered, her voice cracked from the cold. “I told you... I told you I got the proof.”
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“You did, baby,” I choked out, tears finally freezing against my cheeks as I held her against my heart. “You won. It’s over.”
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