Any Means Necessary (a Luke Stone Thriller-Book #1)

Chapter Thirty

3:15 p.m.

In the Sky - The Borough of Queens, New York

The helicopter had come in over Staten Island, across the Verrazano-Narrows, and into Brooklyn. Now they were moving east along the ocean beaches, flying low and fast. Soon they would hook left and move north along the Van Wyck Expressway.

Luke and Ed were hunched in the small cargo hold. Back in New Jersey, they had both dropped another Dexedrine. The effects were starting to kick in.

It had been a long and brutal day. Luke had been awake far too long. He had been choked, shot at, tackled, stepped on, punched, kicked, and oh yes, almost blown to bits. He had been suspended from his job and accused of murder. But as the Dexie hit him, he began to feel a surge of guarded optimism. Hell, they had saved the President of the United States today. That had to count for something.

The helicopter was tiny. He could reach out and touch both the pilots. He poked his head between them. It was Jacob and Rachel, the same pilots from this morning.

"You kids ready to fly this thing?" he shouted.

Behind him, Ed was sitting near the open cargo door, loading thirty-round box magazines for an M4 assault rifle. He had a little stack of them going.

"Isn't that what we're doing right now?" Rachel said.

Luke liked Rachel. She had dark auburn hair. She was brawny like the old Rosie the Riveter posters. Of course, she was. She was a mixed martial arts fighter, after all. Big arms, big legs, she must be hell inside a steel cage.

"Ed could do what you're doing," Luke said. "But I'm going to need him on that M4. I mean, are you ready to fly this thing like they taught you in the United States Army? We might have to go in a little hard here."

"We're ready, Luke," Jacob said. Jacob was nearly the opposite of Rachel. He was thin and reedy. He looked nothing like your typical elite soldier. Special ops could be as hung up on looks as anybody else. Probably no one would have accepted him, not Delta, not SOAR, not the Rangers, or the SEALS. The only thing he had going for him, besides his profound sense of calm, was that he was probably one of the ten best helicopter pilots alive on Earth.

Rachel nodded. "You know we're ready."

"Good. There's a convoy of SUVs on its way to KennedyAirport. It's not going to get there. That's because we're going to stop it."

"What kind of support do we have?" Jacob said.

"Swann is operating some small drones that are spotting for us. He'll probably have a couple of our cars as well. Other than that, you've got me, and you've got that big man with that big gun back there."

"What are you going to do?"

Luke smiled. "I'm the head cheerleader. Keep the intercom wide open and listen for my screams."

"Hey, Luke," Rachel shouted. "When I was leaving SOAR, my C.O. asked me what I was going to do with the rest of my life. You know what I said? I told him I was gonna go work for the SRT. You know why? Because Luke Stone was there. All these years of flying choppers, and I never got the chance to die in one. I'm hoping Luke can fix that for me."

"You're my kind of girl," Luke said.

"By the way," Jacob said. "This is an area full of civilians."

Luke nodded. "And that's why we're going to get this done without firing a shot."

A moment later, Luke's satellite phone started beeping. He answered, and held the phone tight to his ear.