Stone Barrington 06-11

stand off.
    “Fly right up the middle of Broadway!” Billy Bob shouted, “and stay just above rooftop level!” He must have encountered some resistance from the pilot, because he began shouting again. “Do it, or I’ll blow your fucking head off!”
    Stone popped his head up for a split second, then ducked. Billy Bob had been standing, facing forward, while Peter sat on the floor, still handcuffed. The sliding door on the right was open.

    “Now you be still!” Billy Bob shouted, apparently at Peter. “I’m going to unlock the handcuff, and you don’t want to fall out, do you?”
    Stone flicked off the safety on his pistol and waited a reasonable time for the cuff to be unlocked, then he sat up and pointed his pistol forward. Peter was free, and Billy Bob was still facing the pilot, the assault rifle pointed at the man’s head. Stone climbed over the seat and swung the barrel of his pistol at the back of Billy Bob’s head, hard. A gunshot could be heard over the noise of the engine, and Stone thought his pistol had gone off, but, as Billy Bob collapsed at his feet, he saw that the back of the pilot’s head was gone. Billy Bob’s weapon had fired a round when he was struck.
    The helicopter began a slow, descending left turn, and Stone made a leap for the copilot’s seat. “Hang on, Peter!” he yelled, grabbing the boy’s hand and dragging him forward. Stone made the copilot’s seat and grabbed the stick, trying to get the chopper level, but then he saw the top of a building coming at him. He yanked back on the stick and cleared the building by a foot, then continued climbing, feeling the airspeed bleed off. They were going to stall any second.
    Stone pushed the pilot’s body out of the way and found the throttle, pushing it forward. The chopper climbed, and he breathed a sigh of relief, until he realized that Peter was no longer next to him. He looked over his shoulder and saw the boy tugging at the inert Billy Bob, one of whose legs was dangling out the open door.
    “Come back to me, Peter!” he shouted, and in that moment of looking back, he lost control of the helicopter. It banked sharply to the left, and Stone desperately tried to correct. The chopper had turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees before he could level it again and glance back. The good news was both Billy Bob and Peter had been thrown against the left side of the helicopter, away from the open door. “Come to me, Peter!” he shouted.
    “No,” the boy shouted back. “He’ll fall out, if I let him go.”
    “No, he won’t. Come to me!”

    Peter shook his head and clung to Billy Bob.
    Stone looked at the chopper’s instrument panel, trying to find something that looked like an autopilot. He found nothing but the usual flight instruments, like the ones on his own airplane. He was headed north again, toward Central Park. At least that was open space, he thought. He might have some chance of setting the thing down. He looked back at Peter.
    “Listen to me!” he shouted. “He’s all right, he won’t fall out. I want you to climb over the backseat and stay there while I land. Sit down and don’t move!”
    The boy looked at the rear seats, then at Billy Bob, then at Stone. He nodded.
    Stone tried to keep the chopper level while Peter inched his way aft. He glanced back to see the boy disappear behind the rear seats. “Thank God,” he said, then he turned his attention back to flying.
    It didn’t feel like an airplane, exactly, but it had a stick, rudder pedals and a throttle, like an airplane. He hoped to God he wasn’t going to need the collective handle, because he didn’t really know what would happen if he used it. They were crossing Fifty-seventh Street now, and the bare trees of Central Park beckoned.
    Then he heard Peter scream, “Stone!!!” He looked back to find Billy Bob on his knees, his head bleeding and his assault rifle pointed at Stone. What was worse, he could see that a grenade had been attached to the rifle.
    “Shoot me, and you die!” Stone shouted.
    “Do what I say, or we all die,” Billy Bob shouted back. “The boy, too!”

57
    STONE TRIED to think of something, but he could only concentrate on keeping the helicopter in the air.
    Billy Bob slipped on a headset and handed Stone one. “We’re going back to Times Square,” he said.
    Stone put on the headset. “I’ve never flown a helicopter before. I don’t know if I can make that kind of turn without dumping this