Death at King Arthur's Court (24 page)

As the balloon began to drift past the crane, Lyon opened the full ripping panel for partial deflation. The balloon immediately dipped to an angle of descent that would carry it back to the yard at Nutmeg Hill.

This abrupt shift placed him in Rina's blind spot directly over the roof of the crane cab. Until he passed beyond the crane it would be impossible for her to get another shot at him. In the two heartbeats it took to pass over the crane, Lyon saw Bea still standing in the garden looking toward them. He knew Rina was probably stuffing more cartridges into the rifle's magazine.

The killer could shoot Bea at a time of her choosing. In another instant he would pass over the crane cab's roof on his downward trajectory. He would be only a few feet away and descending in a direct line away from Rina. Her aim would not have to lead him, and his wild body gyrations would not appreciably increase the complexity of the shot. She would probably be able to pump three bullets into him before he reached the ground.

With him dead or dying in the harness, Rina could leisurely target Bea as she stood in the center of the garden far removed from any ground cover. His wife would never survive a dash to the protection of the house.

Lyon's right foot scraped along the top edge of the crane cab. He brought his left foot back as the balloon drifted past the crane. As soon as he was clear he kicked out with all his strength. His instep caught under the forward stock of Rina's rifle and flipped it out of her hands. The weapon spun end over end as it looped over the rim of the promontory and fell toward the river.

The balloon's final descent was swift. Lyon hit the ground hard. He was able to stay on his feet by running with the partially deflated balloon as it bounced unevenly across the yard.

Bea grabbed him around the waist as he passed through the garden. She was pulled along with him as they plowed down a row of staked beefeater tomato plants. Lyon grabbed the mooring stanchion as they passed by the barn and they were able to tether the balloon.

Lyon simultaneously hit the harness quick release and pivoted to run at full speed back toward the construction site.

He glanced up at the tower crane. From his location directly underneath the jib, he could see that Rina was not on the superstructure, but she could be inside the cab. He began to climb the struts of the crane's climbing frame. He knew that as long as he was on the crane he was in a very vulnerable position. Although her rifle was gone, it was possible that Rina had a handgun.

He stopped to rest at the third story. There was still no sign of Rina, but she might be waiting until he reached the tower and approached the cab before she shot him in the face at point-blank range.

Stopping was a mistake. It allowed time for mental pictures to focus on frightening possibilities. He might reach the top only to stare into the barrel of her pistol. He would see the flash of the exploding shell for a microsecond, but would never hear its retort as the projectile pierced his brain and he fell from the crane. The image of his own death was vivid and real.

The others did not deserve to die. The last victim's sin was a badgering request for a memorial to valiant men.

Lyon closed his eyes tightly for a moment and then forced them open. He looked up and continued his climb.

He assumed that Bea would see what was happening and call 911 for help. He somehow felt that it was imperative to reach Rina before anything else happened.

He called to her as he neared the end of the climb. ‘Rina! It's Lyon. I'm coming up.' No answer. So much for a dialogue.

He stopped again. Rina's ominous silence meant precautions were in order. He looked up and thought he might be able to work his way along the underside of the jib beneath the cab. If he reached a point behind the cab, he could swing up on the rear part of the jib at the counterweight. That position would place him out of sight and to the rear of the cab door. A strategic position might grant him at least a small element of surprise.

A climb of three more feet and he was able to reach up to a cross-strut underneath the jib. He let go of the climbing frame and hung from the jib. He swung his body forward and shifted one hand then the other to the next strut. He repeated the movement until he was behind the cab. He pulled up on the outside of the jib and swung his feet up over the edge to the side of the counterweight. Once secure, he was able to lever up the rest of his body.

If she came out of the cab to face him, she could still fire at close range. He moved quickly forward.

‘Rina, you there?' he called as he yanked open the cab door and lunged for her.

It was empty.

Lyon stumbled into the cab and plunked down in its operator's seat. He began to tremble from exertion as the rush of adrenalin quickly receded with the removal of immediate danger. His breath came in short gasps as he fought to regain physical and mental control.

The crane was moving!

The lumbering metal behemoth slowly inched across the ground toward the edge of the promontory.

It would reach the rim of the cliff above the river in two dozen yards. Once the huge weight of the crane neared the promontory's lip it would tilt forward until the whole machine toppled into the river.

It was now apparent to Lyon that while he fought to land the balloon, Rina had left the top cab and gone down the ladder on the opposite side of the climbing frame. When she reached ground level she had hidden inside the crane's truck cab. Once she knew he had climbed too high for retreat, she had started the short drive to the cliff.

Lyon stood on the jib at the cab's door. It was too high to jump. Once the crane went over the cliff he doubted that anyone could survive the fall. He stepped further out on the narrow platform and clutched one of the cantilever cables. The crane was now only a few yards from the edge of the cliff. Far beneath him he saw Rina's head protrude from the lower cab door. She looked up at him with what he knew was a grimace of hate.

Rina used both hands to grasp the top edge of the cab in preparation for swinging the rest of her body out. The machine's forward momentum was slow enough to give her ample time to leave the driver's cab and make the easy jump to the ground. She had probably wedged the accelerator open to keep the monster machine on its path to destruction.

When the crane's leading edge reached the cliff, Rina still hadn't emerged any further from the cab. She looked up at him again. Her look of hate had turned to one of utter terror.

She screamed. It was a primeval cry of anguish and death.

As he watched her writhe, Lyon realized that she was unable to leave the cab. For some unknown reason her lower body was trapped in the slowly moving vehicle. They would make the fatal plunge together.

The forward tracks of the crane's heavy body topped the cliff edge. The large vehicle seemed to hesitate a moment before it slowly tilted. When its center of gravity shifted, it began to fall.

Sixteen

‘Wentworth!'

Bea hung in the cloudhopper harness a few feet to the side of the falling crane.

Lyon flung himself at her as the crane plunged toward the river. His hands closed over her right ankle like the awkward catch of a mediocre trapeze artist.

Bea was sufficiently aware of the cloudhopper's aerodynamics to know that the sudden addition of Lyon's weight would upset their equilibrium. A pronounced dip could entangle them in the crane's superstructure and force them to follow the falling machine down the cliff to destruction in the river. She immediately compensated for this by starting a long propane burn the instant he jumped.

Lyon's weight had caused the cloudhopper to sink a few feet before the added buoyancy of the burn took effect. They hovered motionless for a moment before the balloon began to slowly rise.

The fading Doppler sound of Rina's final scream followed their rise as the balloon's flight path made a parabolic sweep over the cliff above the river.

Lyon wrapped both arms around Bea's feet.

‘This is not my idea of fun,' she said.

‘Next week wicker gondolas only,' Lyon said as he shifted his grip. They faced in opposite directions. Bea's ability to see forward and control of the propane burner left her in command of the craft. ‘Put us down as soon as we're over land,' he said.

‘I think we have another problem. I'm seeing big round things.'

‘Black specks before your eyes? You're going to lose consciousness?'

‘I mean red and yellow beach balls,' she replied. ‘I see a string of them in front of us.'

Lyon knew instantly that his wife was not having vision problems. The beach-ball objects were wire warnings that signaled high-tension lines to low-flying aircraft. The wire that crossed at this point originated at the atomic power plant near Haddam Neck and carried thousands of volts to the massive pylons that supplied power to the Hartford grid.

‘A burn!' Lyon yelled. ‘Give the propane a shot to get over the power line!' High-tension wires were the most feared obstacle for a hot-air balloonist. The huge craft's vertical-only control made them vulnerable to wire entanglements. Such collisions caused most of the sport's fatalities. ‘For God's sake, give it a long burn!' he yelled.

‘I am!' Bea yelled back. She was aware of their danger now that they were close enough for her to see the electrical wire supporting the colorful round markers. She yanked the burner lanyard again and again. The only response was a small sputter. ‘There's no more propane,' she said.

‘Pull the ripping panel! We may drop below it.'

It didn't take an expert balloonist to see that their present trajectory would not carry them under the power line. The ripping panel did not spill hot air quickly enough for the high balloon bag to clear the wire. ‘We're going to hit it,' she said matter-of-factly.

Lyon looked down. If he made the long fall into the river from this point, his chances of survival were minimal. Since Bea had to pull up on the parachute harness in order to release enough tension to allow the quick release to operate, she would not be able to drop free fast enough. She had no survival odds. ‘I'm staying,' he said.

‘No,' she replied. ‘Jump!'

‘I like the view,' he said as he tightened his grip on her feet in anticipation of what he knew was going to happen next.

Bea attempted to kick him free. When his grip prevented that, she tried to scissor her legs in order to break his hold. ‘Please, go. Lyon, please.'

‘Nope.' He turned as far as he could to look over his shoulder at the approaching wires. Her estimate was correct. Although their descent had begun, the balloon envelope would hit the wire before they had dropped far enough. Once contact was made, they would be electrocuted. ‘I love you!'

‘Me too!' she yelled back as her harness struck the wires.

The balloon envelope draped forward and began to deflate.

Lyon involuntarily grimaced in anticipation of the paralyzing shock that would momentarily course through their bodies.

‘Doesn't electricity travel at the speed of light or something?' Bea asked.

‘Something like that,' Lyon answered. He noticed that they had struck the wires near the southerly side of the river bank beyond the last of the beach-ball markers. From their point of impact the wire sloped toward the lower pylons on the far shore. As the balloon deflated, the bag began to slide slowly down the wire.

‘What's happening?' Bea asked in a voice partially afraid to articulate the question for fear of invoking a worse calamity.

‘For some reason the power's off,' Lyon said. ‘We're sliding along the wire's slope. If we keep going, we can make the drop.'

The balloon envelope continued to creep down the wire. Lyon added the swing of his body to help speed its momentum. Although his hands were clamped tightly together around Bea's feet, their leaden feeling indicated that he would soon lose his grip. He only had seconds before the last of his strength ebbed and he fell.

They were still high above the river, perhaps too high. ‘When I let go, pull up on the harness and snap the quick release.'

‘You've got to be kidding! We'll drown.'

He didn't have time to reply. The last of the strength left his arms and he lost his grip. He dropped away from her. He attempted to keep his body straight during the fall in order to hit the water in an upright position.

He struck the river in a standing position and rapidly sank below the surface. The long descent seemed interminable and his awkward arm motions were useless. His strength was gone and his arms felt like lead weights. His descent stopped as he gently touched a soft bottom. Lyon scissored his feet frantically through silt before he began to slowly rise. Could he hold his breath long enough to reach the surface? He tried an awkward swimming motion, but the slow jerky movements didn't help his ascent. The fall and fatigue had disoriented him. He had no comprehension of how long he had sunk or how deep under the water he was. He only knew that he wanted to breathe so desperately that in seconds he would involuntarily gasp for air.

A corner of his remaining conscious thought knew that if they were near the shore at the time of the drop, the river might not be too deep at this point.

He unexpectedly broke the surface. His head tilted up to gasp huge gulps of air before he flopped backwards and nearly sank again. He continued gasping for air, but found that he could remain on the surface by treading water.

Bea was upside down high above his head as she struggled with the harness of the deflated balloon. She had pulled her body up and was frantically punching the quick release. It finally worked! She dropped away from the remnants of the balloon and plummeted toward the river. She fell in a horizontal position with both arms and feet flailing.

As she hit the river, a wide plume of water sprayed up on either side as she sank below the surface.

He tried to swim toward the spot where she had disappeared under the water, but the tremors in his arms made his movements a pathetic dog paddle.