Necessary Evil by David Dun Read Free Book Online Page B

related to the Indian girls and their birth-mother jobs? And the disease agents? How?
    As he placed the metal box beneath a fir, Kier felt overcome by a sense of disquiet. He shuddered with anticipation as his mind turned to Jessie. When he had last seen her, she had been walking toward the cockpit. He would check on her from outside the pilot's window.
    In a few quick strides, he was at the airplane's front windshield, which was badly shattered, but not completely broken through. Even on the lee side of the plane, the same side they had entered at the tail, the snow had drifted halfway to the windows. But it was cottony soft. He sank in to his thighs.
    He leaned a large metal bracing structure from the wing against the fuselage and stood on it, still barely able to see inside. It surprised him to find three bodies, one of them facing aft. He pulled himself up another inch. His eyes caught movement—the dull glint of metal. The third body was a live man, gun trained on Jessie through the jagged hole in the cockpit door.
    Sliding back down the side of the plane, Kier ran, his great steps eating up the distance. As he passed through the rear entry into the cabin, he choked back the scream that threatened to escape his lips. He became a shadow, sliding up the aisle. He could see Jessie now, her hand reaching for the door, the assailant's bloodied face rising.
     
     
    Jessie saw the ugly circle formed by the barrel of a large-bore handgun pointing through the hole in the cockpit door.
    "Oh no," she breathed like a spent balloon.
    Just then Kier's huge hand grabbed her thigh, pulling her body to the side of the cabin. A muted pop followed, and she knew that the silenced shot had narrowly missed her.
    As she started to retreat, she brought her gun up and pulled the trigger. It felt like slow motion, but the sound of her shots almost ran together, the roar filling the tight space as the gun jumped in her hand. Kier kept pulling her aft. In a panic, they squeezed through the bodies until they both jumped outside.
    Once in the snow, she looked at Kier. Both of them were wet with perspiration despite the cold. "Thanks," she said shakily.
    She popped the clip out of her pistol, willing herself to gather her thoughts as Kier peered back into the cabin, no doubt trying to catch a glimpse through the hole that had framed the shooter's face. Thirteen shots. Slowly she slid the clip back in place. Think. Think. I've got a live shooter in the cockpit. Any more shots, the plane could explode. Talk him out. He's bleeding, it's cold. Time is on my side.
    "This is the FBI," she called into the fuselage.
    Nothing. Not a groan, curse, or plea for help.
    "Talk to me," she shouted.
    Then she had an idea. When she looked at Kier, he was motioning to the front of the plane, mirroring her thoughts. It would be better to check the cockpit from the outside.
    At the cockpit, she had him lift her to the windshield's edge. For an instant, she contemplated the feel of his large hands on her, even as the frigid wind iced her wet body.
    Swiping the snow from her eyes, she peeked through the side window. Straining, she saw the gunman's torso. The shooter's gun hand jerked into view. She pulled away from the window, and Kier let her drop as the shooter's bullet split the windshield where her face had been.
    "This is the FBI. The plane is surrounded," she called out.
    "Oh, thank God," a voice called back above the wind. "I thought you were Tillman's guys."
    ''Let me get on top of the plane and drop in through the broken windshield," Kier told Jessie quietly. "You go inside and cover him."
    "You're a civilian," she snapped. "More important, you'll be a wide-open target."
    "Have him put his hands through the hole in the cockpit door. Shoot if he moves. I have a better chance than you would."
    She knew he was right. Reluctantly, she nodded and moved along the fuselage.
    "First throw out your gun," she called from the rear hatch.
    "How do I know you're a