Part 23
"How far is Southampton?" I asked, already moving back toward the front doors.
"Forty minutes by car if we push the engine to its absolute limit," Marcus replied, running alongside me.
"But even if we get there, the yacht will already be in international waters."
"We won't catch them by car," I said, stopping on the top step of the mansion and looking up at the sky.
"But Alistair Sterling has a private helipad on the north lawn of this estate. I saw it on our way in."
"Does the helicopter have fuel?"
Marcus checked his tablet, tapping into the estate's local automated systems.
"Yes. A Eurocopter EC135. It's prepped and ready for Alistair's medical evacuations."
"Can you fly it?" I asked, looking him dead in the eye.
Marcus gave a small, dangerous smile. "I spent four years in the Special Air Service before your father hired me, Victoria. I can fly anything."
"Then let's go hunting," I said.
We ran across the manicured lawns, ignoring the automated security alarms that were beginning to blare across the property.
The sleek black helicopter sat on the pad, its rotors still, looking like a dormant predatory insect.
We jumped inside. Marcus flipped a sequence of switches on the overhead panel, and the turbines roared to life with a deafening whine.
The blades began to spin, creating a violent downdraft that whipped the surrounding trees into a frenzy.
I buckled myself into the co-pilot seat, pulling on a headset as the ground fell away beneath us.
The English countryside became a blur of green and grey as Marcus tilted the nose down, pushing the helicopter to its maximum speed.
"We have the advantage of speed, but they have the advantage of cover," Marcus warned over the radio.
"The English Channel is crowded with cargo ships. Finding one specific yacht in the fog will be difficult."
"He's running toward international waters because he thinks the law protects him there," I said, staring out into the grey horizon.
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"He forgets that I'm not bringing the law."
"I'm bringing a mother's vengeance."
