The Schumann Frequency by Christopher Ride

Author:Christopher Ride
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Random House Australia
Published: 2009-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

22

Mexican Coastline, near Merida

Bell 430 JetRanger

27 November 2012

Local Time 11:56 am

Mission of Isaiah – Day Three

A BLACK HELICOPTER thundered towards the Mexican coastline. In the distance, dark storm clouds moved steadily across the sky. The chopper crossed the white sandy beach at blistering speed and headed inland just above the treetops.

Commander Visblat slouched across the rear cabin, headset on, his face badly bruised. The helicopter was not designed to carry a man of his considerable height, and his legs were jammed awkwardly under the seat facing him. He tore the adhesive bandage from his forehead, revealing a wet, fleshy wound. Bandages on his face made him look weak, he decided. The cast on his arm was bad enough.

Visblat’s eyes remained fixed on the thick forests that swept below the window. The sound of the turbine hummed in the cabin. He ran through scenarios in his mind. If things went well, Wilson Dowling would be in his custody at any moment. The large man began to fidget, doing his best to suppress the urge to gloat. His heart rate increased with expectation. Soon he would have the opportunity to show how clever he had been.

Visblat checked at his watch. ‘You said we were only twenty minutes away!’ he erupted. ‘That was half an hour ago!’

The navigator adjusted his headset, glanced at the pilot, then addressed Visblat. ‘We’re approaching Chichén Itzá now. There was a sequence of electrical storms we couldn’t pass through.’

They were an American crew that Visblat had commissioned from San Antonio. Both pilots were on edge; they had violated Mexican airspace without authority and everything was off the record, including the pay arrangements.

‘I told you to fly straight there!’ Visblat barked into his microphone. ‘No deviations. I’m in a hurry.’ The sound crackled in both pilots’ ears.

‘We had no choice,’ the navigator said. ‘The storm was too severe.’

Without pressing the intercom, Visblat swore out loud in the cabin. He grabbed his mobile telephone as if he was going to throw it, then restrained himself and placed it gently on the seat. Just think of the prize, he told himself. Mr Dowling would soon be in his charge.

‘Chichén Itzá is coming into view,’ the navigator said.

Visblat sat up and surveyed the ancient city. The walls of the Pyramid of Castillo were covered with black scorch marks, hundreds of them, and the plaza was concealed under a shimmering layer of water. A badly damaged aircraft, a Saab 340, sat at the edge of the clearing. Visblat’s piercing blue eyes scanned the ruins looking for Diaz and his men. Eventually, he looked towards the Caracol. There were figures standing on the plateau. He smiled to himself. This was his moment of victory. As the helicopter descended towards the ruins, however, his smile faded.

The pilot spoke into his microphone: ‘Look at this place!’ The mysterious black scars on the pyramid seemed inexplicable.

Visblat pointed towards the ground. ‘Set us down. Over there.’

‘We can’t land in the water,’ the pilot said.

‘If you want your money,’ Visblat replied, ‘you’ll land this aircraft.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.