Encrypted: An Action-Packed Techno-Thriller Read online

  “Well, it might not matter now,” Quirk said, not sounding like his usual snarky self. “Looks like four jets and a chase helicopter.”

  To punctuate her assistant’s words, a missile went off to the left, rocking the helicopter.

  “I take it that this wasn’t just a family misunderstanding,” the pilot grumbled.

  She didn’t blame the guy. They hadn’t been exactly forthcoming about why they needed the helicopter when they booked it.

  It was Zach’s jaw that worked overtime, though. “We’ve got to talk.”

  “Sure,” Ronnie said frantically searching up his neck for evidence of the fiber. “Let me just pour a glass of wine.”

  * * *

  Zach grabbed Ronnie’s hand. He loved her sense of humor, but not with this weight on his conscience. “I’m serious.”

  Another explosion nearly shattered the window behind them as they lurched to the left.

  “Ha! Just try to lock on to us,” Quirk shouted, working on five different devices.

  Zach tugged Ronnie’s chin up to face him. “They don’t want to down the chopper. They want to force us to land.”

  As another explosion rocked them to the right, Ronnie frowned. “Dude, it doesn’t—”

  “They want you to decode for them, Ronnie, and…” Zach could hardly believe what he was about to say. “And I think you should.”

  “After what they did to you?” she hissed, pulling away from him.

  “Yes,” Zach rushed on. “This is about the world being stricken by—”

  “I get it,” Ronnie interrupted, but then her eyes softened. “You don’t think I get it? I am totally on board with helping to save the world—”

  “Um, with a little help?” Quirk interjected.

  Ronnie didn’t even glance in her assistant’s direction as she answered. “But not for them.”

  Zach could completely understand her reluctance. After the way Grant had treated him? The way he was treating them now? Then, add in the fact that Ronnie was on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list for cyber crimes. Still, he needed her to hear him out.

  “Ronnie, they need you alive so—”

  But she shook her head. “Zach, you know that I love your optimism, but they may leave me alive, but they’ll kill you.” Ronnie nodded toward Quirk and the pilot. “All of you.”

  “Yep,” the pilot said as he ground his cigar between his teeth, all the while flying them through a war zone.

  Despite the pilot’s expertise, another explosion hit so closely that the wall of the chopper flared red and the helicopter veered so far over, Zach was pretty damn sure that they were going to crash-land. Finally, the pilot righted the aircraft, but now they only cruised a few yards above the ground.

  “I think they’ve decided that even Ronnie is expendable,” Quirk informed them.

  And Zach couldn’t argue. Out of the front, now cracked, window, the two jets banked sharply, coming back for another pass. His own government was going to shoot down a civilian chopper. Grant was willing to kill the very woman who could help him.

  “Yeah, we’ve got a problem,” the pilot announced, clutching the joystick with both hands. “We’re leaking fuel. I need a plan ‘B,’ pronto.”

  What plan B? But then, Zach saw Quirk and Ronnie exchange a look.

  “What?” he asked. “You mean you really have a plan ‘B’?”

  * * *

  Um, yes they had a plan B, but if plan A had been poorly planned with questionable execution, then plan B, well, plan B was suicidal. Ronnie was so loath to broach it that Quirk was the one who had to speak up.

  “We do have El Blinko.”

  Zach looked at Quirk, then at her. “What’s that?”

  “An EM gun,” Quirk supplied.

  “We hope,” Ronnie countered. Even hope was a bit of a stretch.

  “That thing will take down my bird,” the pilot grumbled, grinding down on the cigar. However, Quirk was quite full of himself.

  “No, no, no,” her assistant said as he rummaged around in their gear. “That’s the super-cool thing. It is unidirectional.”

  “Sort of,” Ronnie added quickly as Zach frowned. “It’s a prototype.”

  Despite the pilot’s original qualms as the chopper rocked back and forth—nearly spiraling out of control—he seemed more open to the idea than Ronnie.

  “How proto is proto?”

  Ronnie rushed in before Quirk could add his spin to it. “Pretty proto.”

  Quirk crossed his arms. “It worked in Zurich.”

  “It took out a city block in Zurich.” Ronnie answered as the chopper rocked nearly horizontal, forcing her to grip the seat, and then get slammed back against the bulkhead as the pilot righted the craft. Therefore, she did not argue as Quirk kept right on putting the EM gun together as they argued.

  “One,” Quirk emphasized, with a single finger up in the air. “Just one block.” Ronnie tried to introduce some reality to the situation, but Quirk talked right over her. “I’m telling you, I’ve made some modifications. It’s got a way tighter range.”

  This time, when the helicopter bucked, everyone was thrown to the floor. Not that she didn’t mind Zach’s legs wrapped around her, but she would prefer it not to be because he was busy trying to keep a large crate from falling on both of them.

  “It’ll work,” Quirk insisted as he rose.

  “Or?” Zach asked, holding out a hand to help Ronnie to her feet.

  “We go down,” the pilot finished in his surly manner.

  Ronnie’s assistant tried to point out the window, except that the chopper bucked and nearly knocked him on his butt. “Like we aren’t already.”

  Quirk must have realized that he had just insulted the pilot, for he quickly followed up with, “Not that you aren’t the best pilot, but come on! Who can stand up to five-on-one action? It is now or never.”

  With explosions sounding all around and them leaking fuel, what choice did any of them have? The pilot gave a curt nod.

  “Goody!” Quirk exclaimed as he put the finishing touches on the device. “I’ve been utilizing the spark-gap model of electromagnetic—”

  “Okay,” Ronnie stated, “even I don’t care. Just get it out.”

  Quirk pouted just a bit, and then pulled out his prize. Unfortunately, he had modeled it after the classic Flash Gordon ray gun—something that didn’t escape the pilot.

  “I changed my mind,” he grunted.

  But there was no turning back. “We’ve got to try,” Ronnie said as she held her hand out for the gun, but Quirk pulled it to his chest.

  “It’s my design.”

  “Since when have you shot a real gun?”

  Wounded but practical, Quirk went to turn the weapon over to her, but Zach intercepted it.

  “And since when have you shot at real people?” he asked.

  “Yeah, but—” Before she could fully respond, Zach unlatched the helicopter door, aimed at the planes and fired. The gun revved, making a wicked science fiction whooshing beep sound, and then shot out glitter along with a light show.

  “What the—?” Zach asked himself, in shock.

  Ronnie tried to brace Zach’s hand, but before she could, the gun actually fired. As in fired big time. As in the recoil threw Zach against the bulkhead—nearly knocking him unconscious.

  “Sorry. I should have explained that the gun packs the punch of the equivalent of 250,000 joules of energy.”

  Zach shook his head, trying to clear his vision. “That would have been good to know.”

  The chopper swooped and dodged as missiles headed their way.

  “Not only didn’t your damn gun work—”

  “It worked!” Quirk insisted. “Just wait!”

  But the missiles kept coming.

  “I’m waiting…” the pilot said, not sounding at all patient.

  “They must have maximum shielding,” Quirk concluded, turning a knob on the gun. “This thing is going to eleven.”

  Ronnie took u
p the gun, since, you know, Zach was still tilted at a weird angle. She braced herself against the door and fired at the approaching missiles.

  Just feet from hitting their side, the missiles sputtered, losing speed and altitude, then dropped from the sky, crashing to the earth. Ronnie didn’t wait. She took aim with the holographic sight and fired at the planes.

  The gun revved, and at least she was partially prepared for the kick. Her shoulder, however, might never be the same again. At least she wasn’t on her butt. The lead plane’s wings tilted precariously as its partner’s nose suddenly dipped down. The two nearly collided with one another on their way down. The canopies popped off one jet as the pilot ejected.

  His plane crashed in a fiery pyre while the other righted itself, streaking out of range.

  “One down. Four to go!” she yelled over the wind as Zach gave her a weak smile while pressing the wound on the back of his head.

  For the first time in a while, their helicopter actually flew in a straight line. It was a weird sensation. As the other two planes made their runs, Ronnie took aim. She fired, but the pilots must have caught on to the weapon, as they both backed away, trying to outrace the invisible enemy. One succeeded. The other began circling and circling to the right. The EM burst must have knocked out their left rudder controls.

  Ronnie would take it. “Two down. Three to go.”

  Without missing a beat, she aimed at the plane streaking by, and fired. The thing dropped a good hundred feet in the air before rolling beyond the horizon.

  “We’ve only got one plane and the chase chopper to worry about,” Ronnie informed Zach. He did his best to look optimistic.

  “Yeah, about that,” Quirk began. She turned to face her assistant. She did not want to know what was about to come out of his mouth. “You only have one more shot.”

  “What?” she looked down at the EM gun, wishing she had taken more interest in Quirk’s side project.

  “Remember?” Quirk asked, and then launched into an imitation of her that even Ronnie had to give him credit for. “Why pay for more than five shots? When are we ever going to need more than five EM pulses?”

  Damn it! She should have known that once she got mixed up with Zach, they would, at some point, clearly need six EM shots. But alas, she was too busy manufacturing an iPod to communicate with the FBI agent chasing her to think of it.

  Ronnie turned to the pilot. “Up to you.”

  “If you can get the plane, I can take the chopper.”

  You know, she could see why Quirk was drooling.

  “I could take the stick,” Ronnie suggested to the pilot.

  “You can fly a helicopter?” Zach asked as he rose gingerly from the floor.

  Quirk snorted. “Sure. If Comanche Chopper Extreme counts.”

  As the plane made its way around to make another run at them, Ronnie helped Zach to a seat.

  “Hey, I’m number five in the world.”

  The pilot grinned. “I’m number one.”

  Okay. This is going to be fun.

  She aimed and fired the ray gun directly in the path of the oncoming plane. The burst must have caught the navigation system. The plane zigged to the left, and then zagged to the right, and then upward. Ronnie lost sight of the plane as it climbed past their view.

  “All right,” Ronnie stated as the chase helicopter tilted forward, advancing on their injured chopper. “Let’s see what Mr. Comanche-Number-One can do.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Somewhere over Mexico

  10:40 a.m., MST

  Ah, that pilot and his joystick. Quirk was so very glad that Ronnie was finally beginning to understand his new man. Just the way he gritted that cigar between his teeth sent shivers up Quirk’s back. Either that, or the constant vibration of the strained metal had settled into his joints.

  The pilot looked at Ronnie, then nodded toward the gun turret. “Even number one could use some help,” he said.

  Quirk raised an eyebrow. Ronnie? On a machine gun? Sure, the woman slayed at video games, but live ammo? However, poor super-Special Agent Hunter still looked nauseated and perhaps a bit dizzy.

  “Keep them busy,” Quirk said to Ronnie, who was strapping into the gun seat. He looked down at the ray gun. “I might be able to get another wallop out of this baby.”

  Quirk sat down next to the FBI agent as the helicopter tilted at a forty-five degree angle. Their thighs brushed one another. Normally, Quirk would have made a great witty comment, but Zach looked ready to hurl. And while Quirk loved witty repartee, he loved cleaning off his shoes less.

  “How about a forward, circle, right?” Ronnie asked the pilot.

  Quirk had absolutely no idea what his boss meant. He usually kept earbuds in when she played, preferring some Lady Gaga or Lady Antebellum to the screeching sounds of war. Of course, the irony of actually now being in the screeching sounds of war did not escape Quirk. Maybe next time, he would pay slightly better attention to Ronnie’s hobbies.

  The pilot, not surprised in the least, seemed to know exactly what Ronnie was talking about. He reversed course and dropped enough altitude for Quirk’s booty to come off the seat. Ronnie took advantage of the situation, shooting at the chase helicopter’s belly. But the other pilot must have also been a high-ranking member of the Comanche club, because he slid out of range.

  Zach’s hands gripped the seat beside Quirk. The guy was green. Literally green. Quirk would normally take the time to comfort such a fine-looking man, but, you know, they were in the middle of a firefight.

  “X, square, left, left,” the pilot bellowed.

  Quirk couldn’t take the time, though, to watch the aftermath of his actions. Quirk had an EM-burst ray gun to fix. The energy stores were virtually nonexistent. As close as that other chopper was, Quirk wouldn’t need much juice to create a burst to take out their equipment.

  As their helicopter swerved and dipped and lunged, Quirk calibrated the gun. The power level inched up from red to orange. If he could scrape up enough to get into the yellow zone…

  Glancing out the door, Quirk realized that they would not have the luxury for even yellow as the other chopper barreled toward them.

  “Don’t worry!” Quirk shouted, jumping up and pointing the gun out the door.

  * * *

  “No!” Ronnie cried out.

  Zach ignored his churning stomach and launched for Quirk. But her assistant aimed and fired. Unfortunately, this was exactly the same moment that their pilot turned the chopper hard…into the pulse.

  Even though he couldn’t see the beam, Zach felt its effects immediately on their craft. While never a steady ride, the chopper now streaked through the sky completely unhelmed. Zach could feel his stomach crawling into his throat.

  And the other chopper was no better. It lay over on it side, careening toward them.

  “Damn it!” the pilot cursed as he struggled with the controls, hitting each and every button—none of which responded.

  “But we were losing!” Quirk demanded, as the other chopper crossed in front of them, missing a collision by inches.

  “Losing?” the pilot demanded as he wrestled with the joystick.

  Ronnie climbed out of the gun seat, yanking on equipment. “We weren’t losing. We were baiting him for a triangle, circle, right, square maneuver.”

  Zach was clueless, and Quirk looked even less informed.

  She huffed as she lifted a large case out from under the seat. “We were going to take out his rear blade!”

  “Oh, crap,” Quirk said, and then knelt by the case.

  “What are you doing?” Zach asked as the two hackers worked frantically.

  “Our equipment was completely shielded, so we are going to interface with the chopper’s—”

  “We don’t have time for this crap!” the pilot growled.

  To punctuate his words, the chase chopper plowed into a hillside, flaring brightly—even in full sunlight. Smoke billowed from the crash site. Zach stared into the fire. Was Gran
t burning right now? And did he care?

  It turned out, with pain lancing his side, that Zach distinctly did not.

  Quirk dragged cabling to the pilot’s seat. “Oh, darling, you haven’t seen how fast I can work. Now spread ’em.”

  Had Quirk said that to him, Zach thought, there would have been no spreading. Either the pilot really was as into Quirk as Quirk thought, or the man knew what Quirk needed, for he did readjust for the skinny assistant to get between his legs to the control panel.

  Zach grabbed hold of a metal handle as the chopper lost more and more and more altitude. And that ridge up ahead was getting closer and closer and closer.

  “Now!” Quirk yelled.

  The pilot grabbed the joystick with both hands and pulled upward. At first, the chopper didn’t respond, but as the sparsely vegetated hillside flew at them, the vehicle lurched upward as the rotors suddenly kicked into gear. They skimmed over the ridge close enough to yank out some weeds, but they skimmed over nonetheless.

  But once over the hill, the chopper again sputtered. Good thing that they were heading toward a valley, because the blades stopped thump, thump, thumping overhead.

  “What’s wrong?” Ronnie demanded.

  “Nothing!” Quirk insisted. “I’m patched in.”

  The pilot shoved the two toward the back of the chopper. “It’s not the electronics.”

  “Then what—?”

  “We’re out of gas,” the pilot said spitting out that chewed-up wad of cigar.

  “Oh, crap,” Ronnie said, whirling around. “Everyone get strapped in!”

  Zach was already ahead of her, pulling the straps over his head and latching them at his waist. Ronnie bounced off the bulkhead and slid in sideways to her seat. Her eyes spoke the fifteen million apologies that seemed on the tip of her tongue. He wanted to comfort her and reassure her that none of it was her fault, but he didn’t have time.

  Instead, he smiled. A warm smile. A real smile. If they were going to die, it would be together.