Oslo Overtures (10 page)

“Morning.”

An icy hand gripped his heart at the sound of Anjelica’s voice. What was she doing here? How did she know?

Kyle smiled at her. “Anjelica…” He turned to Luke, questions burning in his eyes.

“Sorry,” Luke whispered. “How was I supposed to know you’d go and change the original plan—the one where she
was
coming with?”

“Ditto, Luke,” he mumbled.

Luke shrugged his shoulders, one leg hitched halfway inside. “I’d already slipped the note from you to her before you told me you didn’t want her here.”

It took all Kyle’s composure to speak in hushed tones. “The note from me? I didn’t— Maskil, what have you done?”

Anjelica cleared her throat.

Kyle swung around. He’d have to wing his way through this, try to avoid her finding out until he’d jumped. His mouth broke open into a grin, masking the frustration he felt.

She returned his smile. “I hope you don’t mind,” Anjelica shouted from the other side of the cabin, over the noise of the helicopter. “I didn’t want to be late, and it was chilly outside, so the pilot told me to hop on board.”

Head bent to clear the roof, Kyle moved through the cabin to where she sat. He dumped his gear on the seat in front of her then leaned over and gave her a reason to keep that pretty smile on her face all day. And his. Finally, he released her mouth. “Good morning.”

Smooching sounds emanated from the other side of the cabin.

Kyle shot a look at Luke who’d puckered his lips as he closed the chopper door.

Luke stopped his shenanigans.

Kyle turned his attention back to Anjelica. “Great day for flying, isn’t it?”

She smiled, “Uh-huh,” and pointed to his gear on the seat. “Should I have brought mine?”

Kyle shook his head and sat down beside her. He took her hand in his while Luke leaned over the pilot’s shoulder, giving him last minute instructions. She shouldn’t be able to hear Luke, but he couldn’t risk it. He had to distract her.

“I believe in being prepared.”
Forgive me for being deceptive.
“So, where would you like to go to this morning, my lovely? How about a sunrise view over the Oslofjord? I hear it’s stunning this time of the day.”

Anjelica rested her head on his shoulder. “Anywhere with you is perfect.”

As planned, they’d fly to Vollen first, then northeast, following the line to Dyna lighthouse, then back to Vollen. Perhaps by the time they reached Vollen again, Kyle would’ve thought of an excuse for suiting up and bailing out, leaving Anjelica to the mercy of Luke, and his life to the mercy of God. By the time he landed at Dyna lighthouse, he hoped she would’ve found it in her heart to forgive him for deceiving her.

~*~

If this was to be a romantic sunrise flight over Oslofjord, why was Luke along, playing third wheel? Were they planning a practice run for the “something spectacular” Erick spoke of? How she would love to ask them outright, but she couldn’t. She’d look like a clingy, worried, jealous girlfriend.

Kyle had made her no promises, and they’d only shared one date and a few kisses. Yet his note had said,
Love Kyle
.

“So, breakfast run for three? Cozy.” Perhaps they’d trip themselves up in conversation, the two connivers.

Kyle pointed at Luke. “He’s the one with money.”

“Yeah, right.” Luke stared out the window.

“That’s Vollen down there,” the pilot shouted from the cockpit.

Vollen? What could possibly be of interest in Vollen?

“Breakfast at Vollen… Doesn’t quite have the same romantic sound as
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
, does it?” Anjelica waited for Kyle’s response.

He laughed. “No. That’s why we’re not stopping there for breakfast.” He turned his attention to the window, mimicking Luke’s stare. For their actions, they could’ve been twins.

“So where
are
we having breakfast?” She turned Kyle’s face toward her. “We are having breakfast, aren’t we?”

“I’d hate to spoil the surprise. You’ll see soon enough.” He turned his face away again. “Would you look at that? Isn’t that a beautiful sight?”

Anjelica leaned her cheek against Kyle’s and looked out the window. The early morning sun cast a warm glow over the cold waters. What a stunning view. “Makes you want to dive into it.”

“The water?” Kyle pretended to shiver.

“No, the morning sky.” She wrapped her arm around his shoulder. It felt good to be close to him again. “If I rise on the wings of the dawn...” she whispered in his ear.

“…if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast,” Kyle finished, still staring into the sky. His voice held a tremor.

Anjelica wondered at his correct use of the passage, certain he didn’t speak of her this time. Something was amiss, but she dared not press the issue. She’d have to take a deep breath and enjoy the ride. Soon enough the truth would out.

~*~

“Dyna Fyr right below.”

Kyle started at the pilot’s announcement. He checked his watch. Only five minutes had passed since they’d flown over Vollen. Concentrating on his flight path, it felt much longer. In little more than ten minutes, this would all be over, and they could go for breakfast and celebrate, although food was the last thing his knotted stomach desired.

The helicopter banked and turned. Kyle stood as best he could in the low-roofed cabin. He slid his wingsuit over his clothing, strapped on his altimeter, and checked his helmet camera mount before pulling the hard shell over his head.

Anjelica didn’t say a word while he suited up.

Neither did he.

For once, Luke was silent, too.

Only when the glasses covered his eyes did Kyle dare look her way.

“Going somewhere?” she asked.

The helicopter banked, and Luke opened the door.

Kyle smiled. “It’s too great a morning to miss a chance.” Would she believe this was an impromptu flight? He moved toward the door. His heart shook as much as the black fabric surrounding his body. He put on a brave smile, continuing the farce. “I’ll see you back at the hotel.” Not quite the truth, but he’d see her there eventually. “Luke’s buying breakfast.”

With that, he jumped.
Lord, please get me through this in one piece.

Wind filled Kyle’s suit and he began to fly the line, his sights set where the spot of land would be visible within a few minutes. The helicopter tracked his path a safe distance to his side—man and metal beast keeping the same pace. Each time he glanced to the right, he’d catch a glimpse of Luke, rooted at the open door. Even though he knew his buddy had his back, he couldn’t shake the angst that something was about to go wrong.

Four minutes into the flight, time to deploy. In the distance, Kyle saw his drop zone. The tiny spot of land housing nothing but a small deck for him to touch down on, spelled the difference between getting wet and staying dry.

Thankfully, the flagpole was mounted on the other side of the small building. He only hoped Luke had arranged a clear deck in anticipation of his arrival.

With his parachute spread out above him like a raincloud, Kyle floated to earth, not one bit of dry land beneath him. For the first time in the flight, the helicopter left his side and sped ahead.

As he drifted closer to the ocean, he could make out the Dyna lighthouse. The flagpole stood tall, proudly flying the red Norwegian flag with its blue and white cross. On the other side of the lighthouse, the helicopter hovered, away from his drop zone, creating a swirl in the calm waters like those strange crop circles allegedly created by aliens.

What in the world? Luke, you moron.

Tables and chairs stood in neat little rows on the lighthouse deck. There was no flat open place to land. If he’d known that Luke hadn’t arranged to have the deck cleared, he would’ve deployed later and headed for the mainland up ahead. Now there was no avoiding this water hazard. He was about to get wet.

~*~

Watching Kyle from her vantage point in the helicopter was like watching a classic movie on cinemascope. He looked beautiful in flight, majestic as a black eagle, flying free—and like the eagle, able to remain aloft with minimal effort as he swooped through the air, riding the currents back down to earth.

Lost in the grace of his flight, Anjelica didn’t notice at first they weren’t headed in the direction of the hotel. But when she did, the pieces began to fit. He was flying across the fjord to Dyna Fyr.

Too far. Too much water.

Fear dug its icy fingers into her heart. She glared at Luke, rooted at the open door. If he’d worn a parachute, she’d have shoved him right out of the chopper.

“What have you done?” she screamed. She wanted to shout it over and over, but exercised restraint and waited for his answer.

“Whoa, Angel. Calm down.” He stared out the chopper again. “He’ll be fine. Just look at him go. There’s nothing to worry about. This is what he does for a living, and he’s one of the best.”

Still, why deliberately tempt fate?

Through the window, Anjelica watched as Kyle deployed his parachute. “Don’t tell me you intend for him to land where I think he’s going to land?”
This would be spectacular all right.

“Why not? A lighthouse landing has never been done. And there’s a small deck for him to touch down on.” Luke’s eyes widened, and he swore. He rushed to the cockpit, his speech frantic.

Suddenly, the helicopter surged forward, leaving Kyle behind.

“What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

Luke turned to her, all color drained from his face. “We need to get there before him to pick him up. He’s going to have to do a water landing. The deck hasn’t been cleared.”

11

It was difficult to judge the depth of the water. Best not to land too close to the lighthouse where the water might be too shallow. Kyle turned his chute and headed for deeper water.

His arm wings already unzipped, he pulled his legs up to loosen the leg wings. He tugged at the zippers. Jammed. Both sides. How could this be happening—a new complication to an already complicated landing?

Had he done something wrong in suiting up inside the chopper? He’d been distracted with Anjelica there. Now he was paying the price for his lack of focus. Even if he managed to emerge from this unscathed, his gear wouldn’t.

He’d have to cut the leg wing. It would be impossible to swim with it intact. He had to work fast. There was much to do to prepare for this landing, little time in which to do it, and zero time for panic. Kyle breathed slow and deep as he retrieved his hook knife. He pulled his legs up again and sliced the fabric. His legs parted instantly.

Still holding tightly onto the hook knife, he followed procedure and disconnected the chest strap so he could get out of the harness the moment he hit the water.

Next, he disconnected the reserve static line—he’d have to cut away his main chute after splash down or risk becoming entangled in the ropes and fabric, which would fast lead to a watery grave with him entombed like a mummy.

Lastly, he loosened the leg straps—not too much, he still needed to reach the toggles. Once in the water, he’d unfasten them to clear the harness.

If only he had flotation devices, but he’d not planned a flight over water when he’d packed for Norway. Besides, the airlines would never have allowed him to bring the CO
2
cartridges on board.

There was nothing to do but separate from his gear.

With everything in place for impact, Kyle steered into the wind. If all went well, he could swim toward the lighthouse. If…

It was impossible to determine the depth of the water. He would have to prepare for a parachute landing fall. Pressing his feet and knees together, knees slightly bent, Kyle flared the canopy completely with both hands together close to his chest, minimizing the risk of wrist and hand injuries. He brought his chin to his chest to protect his neck.

As his feet hit the water, he cut away the main canopy and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with life-giving air. The water was cold and everything in him screamed to gasp. But he held his breath, not allowing the icy surrounds to rob him of what little oxygen he possessed. He released his grip on the hook knife. It would sink to the ocean floor and be lost forever, as would most of his gear.

Hampered by the dark water and his glasses, still held in place by his helmet, Kyle fumbled until he found and unfastened the leg straps. He threw back his arms and slid forward out of the harness, all in the slow motion that water demanded. Then he dove deep, clearing the canopy floating above him like a whale.

Breaking through the surface of the water, Kyle rolled onto his back, preventing his suit from forcing his face into the water. He breathed deep. Remaining calm would be the pivotal point to clearing his suit and surviving.

He ripped the glasses from his face and let them fall. They, too, were about to become buried treasure. He hit emergency release on the camera. It fell free of its mount. He held on tight to the small camera in its waterproof box, not prepared to let it go. Not only did it bear testimony to this amazing flight, it still held all the footage of Anjelica, which he’d not yet downloaded to his laptop.

Loosening the strap beneath his chin, Kyle pulled the helmet from his head. He brought it to his mouth and kissed it before releasing his hold. They’d flown together so many miles, across so many countries, it felt as if he was losing a friend. Better than losing his life. Survival triumphed over sentiment.

Struggling not to consume the salty water, and failing, Kyle spluttered. It had been hard to remove his gear without treading water. Staying afloat in such adverse conditions was tiring, but he needed to keep his legs motionless or risk the wingsuit being dragged downward and sinking. He had to free himself soon or drown.

He breathed again, slowing his heart rate, and spat as the water around him started to churn. Struggling to keep afloat, he looked up at the black chopper and swallowed another mouthful of water. And another.