NUMA Files - 05 - Lost City by Clive Cussler

Author:Clive Cussler
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Thriller
Published: 2010-06-10T04:00:00+00:00

“I'll be fine once I put my teeth back in my head.”

“Glad to hear that. You'll need your dentures when we have dinner.”

“Truly a man with a one-track mind. Do you have any idea where we're going?”

“We're headed in roughly the same direction we came in. Keep a sharp eye out for lights. I'll try to land on a road near a town and hope there isn't too much traffic this time of night. Sit back and enjoy the ride.”

Austin turned his attention to the task of getting them down safely. Despite his cavalier attitude, he had no illusions about the difficulties that lay ahead. He was flying essentially blind, over unknown territory, in an antique aircraft he had no business operating, despite his extensive county fair experience. At the same time, he was enjoying the simple reliability built into the old aircraft. This was true seat-of-, the-pants piloting. No cockpit bubble separated him from the cool wind. He was practically sitting on top of the engine and the noise was earsplitting. He had renewed respect for the men who'd flown these relics in combat.

He would have liked to wring a few more knots from the plane, which seemed to grind its way through the night sky. He was heartened when, after several minutes of flying, he began to see pinpoints of light in the distance. The plane was approaching the perimeter of Fauchard's vast holdings. His complacency was shattered by Skye's voice, shouting in his earphones.

At the same time he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced to the left. The helicopter that had hunted for them in the maze had materialized about thirty feet away as if by magic. The cockpit lights were on, and he could see one of the Chateau Fauchard guards sitting in the passenger's seat. He had an automatic weapon on his lap, but he made no attempt to shoot the plane down, although it would have been an easy target.

A moment later, the now-familiar voice of Emil Fauchard crackled over the plane's radio.

“Good evening, Mr. Austin. How nice to see you again.” “What a pleasant surprise, Emil. I don't see you in the helicopter.” “That's because I'm in the chateau's security control center. I can see you quite clearly on the helicopter's camera.”

Austin glanced at the camera pod slung under the helicopter's belly and gave it a friendly wave.

“I thought you would still be in the dungeon with the rest of the rats.”

Emil ignored the insult. “How do you like my Fokker Aviatik, Austin?”

“I'd have preferred an F-16 loaded with air-to-air missiles, but this will do for now. Nice of you to let me use it.”

“Not at all. We Fauchards are most generous when it comes to our guests. Now, I must ask you to turn around or you will be shot down.”

The man in the helicopter stirred and aimed what looked like an AK-47 through the cockpit opening.

“You've obviously been tracking us. Why didn't you shoot us down when you had the chance?”

“I would prefer to keep my plane intact.

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