Thermals Page 5

  *****

  “The rescue chopper will be in the air in a couple minutes,” Gwen said as she and Anselm rushed out of the station and towards the Eliica parked in its charging nook. “But it’s having trouble tracking him. There are too many flyers in the sky, there’s no way to know which one he is.”

  “Adrienne was here on her honeymoon…” Anselm said as he dropped into the Eliica’s passenger seat. “Interpol keeps a GPS lock on their agents…”

  “The badges, right? We do the same.” Gwen nodded, thumbing the start button, then sliding the electric vehicle into reverse.

  Anselm just got the seat restraints on as the vehicle surged back, slamming him forward into the belt. “Right, but most officers like to keep track of their spouses too, at least if they’re doing anything unusual.”

  “You think she might have him low-jacked?” Gwen smirked.

  “If he dropped his portable, it’s our only shot.” Anselm said grimly, fiddling with the computer built into the dash. “I should have remembered earlier. Can you call her from here?”

  “Don’t touch!” She slapped his hands away, then keyed in an order. “Contact Tower Arms Hotel.”

  The computer blinked, then a face appeared almost instantly. “Yes Inspector?”

  “I need to talk to one of your guests, Adrienne Somer.” Gwen snapped as she drove.

  “Right away.”

  The tear-streaked face of the Interpol Inspector appeared on the screen a moment later, “Inspector? Have you heard anything…?”

  “Not yet.” Gwen said sharply.

  “Adrienne,” Anselm cut in, “We need to know, did you have a GPS unit made up for Ron?”

  She nodded, “Of course…I don’t know if he took it though…I mean, I trust him…”

  “What’s the Serial?” Gwen asked instantly.

  Adrienne stammered as she got it out while Gwen punched it in. A moment later there was a chime as the computer denoted a satellite lock and showed a map on the screen. Gwen and Anselm frowned at it.

  “Where’s that?”

  “It’s out in the desert…or over it.” She grimaced, “About fifty miles out…”

  “He’s moving fast.” Anselm blinked. “Really fast.”

  “He’s in the Jetstream.” Gwen cursed, twisting the wheel over and putting the car to the floor.

  The acceleration shoved Anselm back into the seat as the electric car quickly climbed past three hundred and fifty kilometers per hour and headed for four hundred while the Inspector pointed it out into the desert.

  *****

  The wind was still buffeting him around, but Ron didn’t feel so bad anymore.

  A little tired, that was all.

  His arms were worn out, he was worn out.

  Wasn’t much point fighting the wind anyway, it wasn’t so bad. Soothing, rocking him to sleep. Part of Ron was screaming from deep down, yelling at him to keep fighting, but that wasn’t important enough to listen too now.

  He was tired.

  At least his arms and legs didn’t hurt anymore.

  He smiled slightly.

  It was too bad Adrienne wasn’t here.

  She’d love the view. It was truly spectacular.

  *****

  “Rescue Alpha One Niner, this is Inspector Dougal, Tower City PD. Come in.”

  Gwen kept her hands on the wheels as she drove, and eyes on the road, letting the hands free communications system worry about getting the signal out. The Eliica’s top end of just over four hundred kilometers an hour was the result of years of research into electric motors and Lithium Ion battery technology, but at that speed it was the batteries that kept them on the road and upright.

  Stacked low in the chassis of the electric car the batteries provided an incredibly low center of gravity and excellent stability, even at extremely high speeds. Which was important because Anselm was pretty certain that it wasn’t really intended to be doing this kind of speed over the kind of roads that existed through the desert.

  On the computer screen the map showed the GPS signal as it rushed out to the east, angling a little to the north, moving almost as fast as the Eliica and without the constraint of the roads. If it speeded up any more, or even if it just stayed up there for much longer, it would easily outpace them and leave them behind in the literal dust of the Australian desert.

  Anselm thought of the various ways you could die in the desert and tried desperately to remember what the range of an Eliica was on a full charge.

  “Inspector, this is Rescue Alpha One Niner. Do you have any more information on your lost Thermie?”

  “Roger Rescue, he is carrying a GPS transponder.”

  “Well that’s good news isn’t it? Do you have the number?”

  “Roger, stand by.” Gwen said, then proceeded to belt off the number. “Confirm receipt Rescue.”

  “Rescue confirms.” The man’s voice said, then came back with a whistle. “Hooo boy, he’s really moving. We might have to call ahead and try to get someone from Alice Springs up and looking for him.”

  “Be advised, I am on the ground and in pursuit. The thermie is a skilled para-glider, we’re hoping that he’ll be able to get down out of the stream.”

  “Watch your juice, Inspector. You don’t want to get caught out here anymore than he wanted to get caught up there.”

  “Roger Rescue. Tower City Police, Out."

  Gwen looked down at the displays in front of her, then over at Anselm. “Relax. We’ve got a five hundred mile range on this thing. We’re not getting stranded.”

  Anselm nodded tensely, his eyes on the sky.

  There was no way he’d see Ron Somer, ten kilometers up, but he couldn’t help but look anyway.

  *****

  Abdallah Amir looked up from his work, frowning as the commotion erupted around him.

  “What is going on?”

  Mr. Jacob walked over to him, “A thermie got caught in the Jetstream, Amir. Apparently he was not prepared for the journey.”

  “Damn fools.” Amir shook his head tiredly. “I suppose they have called for Rescue, of course?”

  “Yes Amir,” Jacob replied, “The military base to the north has dispatched one of their helicopters.”

  Abdallah sighed in annoyance. It was probably nothing, but he didn’t wish to deal with the Australian military just yet.

  Almost.

  But not just yet.

  “And everyone here is moving, why exactly?”

  “In case he survives and is returned, they must have the medical facilities ready.”

  “Ah.”

  Of course.

  Abdallah Amir shook his head in irritation, but said nothing else. There was an image to keep up, of course. He left the others to their work, and remained focused on his.

  *****

  “Gwen…” Anselm spoke softly, but his voice was tense. The incredible speed of the vehicle he was in was trying enough, but the fact that Inspector Dougal insisted on dodging snakes and other animals in the road was downright frightening.

  “What is it, Anselm?” She asked with a smirk.

  By God, she’s enjoying herself!

  Anselm shook the thought clear, formulating his words carefully. “You’ve called for a helicopter, right?”

  She nodded.

  “So should we be doing this?”

  “What do you mean?” She frowned.

  “I mean…the helicopter is going to get there first isn’t it?”

  “Oh!” She said in sudden understanding, “Maybe yes, maybe no.”

  He must have looked confused, so she went on.

  “About fifty fifty that he gets bounced out of the Jetstream in a few minutes,” She said seriously, “This happens every now and then. And the chopper is coming from a military base to the north, it won’t be here for a half hour at least.”

  “Oh.”

  “If we stay under him as long as we can,” She went on, “We’ve got a decent chance of spotting him if he bounces out of the
stream.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “It could carry him around the planet until it finally decides to spit him out somewhere.” She shrugged, “But that won’t happen. No one ever goes very far.”

  Anselm nodded, but a stray memory flickered to him. “What about that guy who made it to New Zealand or something?”

  Gwen laughed, “You mean Stef Bingsly. That idiot fought the stream to STAY in it. Unless this Ron guy is an idiot, he’s not doing that.”

  “Ok.” Anselm nodded, glad to understand the logic behind the insane rush.

  He was also pleased for another reason, or a couple of them actually.

  First he wanted to get to Ron Somer as a courtesy to Inspector Somer, and save the man’s life if it were possible, though Anselm wasn’t certain what he could hope to do to manage that. Second, though, was because he had a suspicion that someone had helped Ron Somer along on his accidental trip.

  It just didn’t feel right to him that the husband of an Interpol agent would have such an accident the day he arrived to investigate Abdallah Amir.

  He wanted to check Somer’s gear, and he wanted to be the first to do so.

  To do either, however, required that Somer drop from the sky sometime very, very soon.

  *****

  Ten kilometers up, fluttering along like a streamer in the wind, the unmoving body of Ronald Somer bounced and jostled in the wind as it was swept along at almost two hundred kilometers an hour. The winds ripped past him, trying to drag him faster, but the flopping of his body and the instability of the uncontrolled air foil above him just fluttered in response.

  The Jetstream snaked above the earth, sometimes dropping as low as ten to fifteen kilometers, or climbing as high as twenty five above the surface of the planet. It traveled at speeds up to and exceeding four hundred kilometers an hour as it snaked its way from the west to the east as it circumvented the earth.

  Weather systems were often ruled by the intervention of this stream of cold, fast moving air, bringing rains and winds as it interacted with warmer, slower moving pockets.

  Now, though, it ruled one man and ruled him utterly as it flung him contemptuously about until finally tiring of his lifeless form and spat him out like a used-up toy.

  *****

  “Whoa!”

  Gwen hit the brakes, bringing the Eliica to a bone jarring halt, “What!?”

  “He’s slowed down!” Anselm said, pointing to the map. “You were right, he’s dropped clear…”

  “Alright…that makes it easier.” She said, hitting the accelerator again, one eye on the map. “But where is he going to land?”

  Anselm couldn’t answer that.

  Too many variables popped into his mind. Wind, whether he was alive and conscious or not, the shape of his air foil.

  Far too many variables to count.

  “Not good.”

  “What?” Anselm looked up at Inspector Dougal, catching the stern look on her face. “What’s not good?”

  “He’s moving too slow.” She said, “Horizontally at least. I think his air-foil must be shredded.”

  “Lovely.” Anselm gritted, “Just lovely.”

  “It’ll make catching him easier,” She said after a moment, her voice darkly ironic.

  “Yeah, but it’s going to make his landing a real bitch.”

  Gwen Dougal just nodded as she tried to mentally plot the likely point where the man was going to come down.

  It would be in the desert, certainly. The odds against him coming down out on the road were, well, ludicrous. Unfortunately the Eliica, while a master of the road, was somewhat poorer in sand. She’d take the car out on one of the side roads if she had too, there were a lot of them and the local off-roaders kept them well packed, so she could probably do it.

  It would likely score the hell out of the bottom of the patrol car, however.

  Gwen sighed, a long and suffering sound. She loved the Eliica, but it was a police vehicle after all. It had its duty, and she had hers.

  *****

  Kamir grinned widely as he watched the commotion kick up around him, knowing full well what it was all about. The rescue vehicles were being manned, tough off roaders that served dual purposes as toys most of the time and occasionally were pressed into service by community-minded drivers when one of the Thermies got tossed by the Stream.

  Normally he’d be part of it, but Kamir didn’t feel like it today.

  Better that he not be there when the body came down, he might laugh when he saw it.

  That wouldn’t do at all.

  *****

  “There!” Anselm pointed to the sky, his finger crunching into the windscreen of the Eliica. “I see something.”

  Gwen nodded, gritting her teeth as a rock scored what she bet was a deep gouge in the underside of the electric car.

  A gas car this low would have been stopped already, caught up on something from beneath, or with half its exhaust scattered a quarter mile behind it. The Ellica had a solid and, previously, smooth bottom that skidded off the occasional object as long as at least a few of its eight tires had some traction.

  They weren’t getting any speed, by her standards anyway, and the Eliica might accelerate like a jet but it wasn’t built to be airborne as often as they were either. It plowed through a drift of blown sand and dust, covering the windscreen with the stuff, but she kept the pedal down and the powerful motors, combined with momentum, pushed them through.

  She resisted the urge to muddy the dust with the wipers and washers, and let the wind blow it off a few moments later, driving but peering through an opening in the dirt.

  “Where?” She growled, twisting her head from side to side.

  “Just ahead and to the right!”

  “Damn!”

  “What?”

  “There’s no road over there!” She growled, cursing a blue streak. “Not even a dirt track like this one.”

  “He’s coming down fast.”

  She snarled and twisted the wheel, sending the specially designed road car off-road and into the bush. The ride got even worse from there, the constant harsh grinding from under them practically bringing tears to Inspector Dougal’s eyes as she fought the wheel of the horribly expensive car and tried to keep an eye out for the falling man.

  Finally she spotted him ahead and she had to agree with Anselm. He was coming down fast.

  Too fast.

  The Eliica protested, screeching it’s horror at the treatment it was receiving as she bounced it over a rock in their road, scoring the undercarriage again, but she ignored it and put the pedal to the floor.

  They came to a skidding stop a couple minutes later, just as the body dropped from the sky, the ragged and ripped air-foil fluttering behind it like a child’s streamer.

  Both officers winced as the body struck the ground feet first and just crumpled into the dust of the desert, the multicolored wreck of memory plastic raining down around it for several seconds later.

  Both threw open the doors of the Eliica and jumped out, rushing forward to the fallen figure as it lay unmoving on the ground ahead of them.

  Chapter 3

  “Rescue Alpha One Niner, this is Tower City PD Unit. Come back, over.”

  Anselm walked forward as Gwen called into her portable, contacting the rescue helicopter. He kept part of his mind tuned into the conversation, but first he had some distasteful business to deal with.

  The body was covered in the multicolored memory plastic that had made up the air-foil Ronald Somer had flown on, and Anselm had to pull the tattered fabric out of the way as he gingerly stepped in.

  Somer’s legs were folded up under him, obviously broken in the fall, and tucked almost invisibly under the slump of his body as it lay on its side, one arm flat under it while the other splayed out as if pointing to something.

  Anselm grimaced as he dropped to one knee near the body and gently tugged the plastic oxygen mask off and pushed his fingers down to the throat.

&nb
sp; He froze then, feeling something under his fingers.

  At first he thought he’d imagined it, then he felt it again.

  “God!” He yelled over his shoulder, “He’s alive!”

  Gwen’s voice picked up an urgency that hadn’t been there before, informing the chopper pilot of the change in status.

  Anselm checked the man more closely, running his hands along the man’s neck and spine first. There didn’t seem to be any obvious breaks, but it was impossible to be sure. From the way he’d hit the ground, Anselm figured that Ronald had to have been unconscious at the time of impact. A mercy that had probably preserved the man’s life.

  “Have you got a kit in the car?” He called over his shoulder.

  “Coming!” Gwen called from where she had already run back to where they had plowed the Eliica into the dirt.

  Moments later she was at his side, unfolding the compact emergency kit that had been stored in the back of the vehicle. They strapped the plastic board to his back and neck first, gently lifting it into place and wrapping the Velcro straps around him, and only then did they turn Ronald Somer over onto his back.

  “How is he?” She asked as Anselm examined Somer’s face.

  “Don’t look at his eyes.” Anselm said grimly, blocking her view.

  “What?” She demanded, pushing past him until she caught sight of the man’s face and froze. “Oh my god!”

  Somer’s goggles had been battered aside, probably during the entry into the stream leaving visible ice where crystals had formed around his eyes and hadn’t thawed yet, freezing the fluid with millions of glittering ice crystals. She covered her mouth as she looked away, breathing deeply as she focused instead on his lower extremities.

  “Legs are busted in a dozen places.” Gwendolyn muttered as she cut away the slick material of his pants.

  “Upper body seems mostly intact. His legs took the worst of it, but he’s not breathing well yet…Color is a little blue.”

  “Oxygen in the kit.”

  “Right.” Anselm grabbed the small bottle of oxygen along with its plastic mask and fitted it over Ron’s mouth and nose as he twisted the bottle open.

  Anselm shook his head as he looked for broken ribs, “I can’t believe he survived that fall…he was over ten kilometers up!”