Liz watched the FBI agent grip the leather restraints in her gloved fists. She was pretty good at feigning confidence, making it sound like this ride was no big deal, even asking questions about the fishing cooler in sound bites as though she was used to the abrupt shouting conversations of a helicopter. Despite all that, she hadn’t fooled Liz at all. For whatever reason, the woman had panicked back there on the beach the minute she realized she’d need to climb into the copter.
So far O’Dell appeared to be doing okay. But just as Wilson turned the helicopter around after hovering over the spot where they had found the cooler yesterday, a call came in. A boat had capsized. A recreational-fishing cabin cruiser. At least one person was in the water. Initial radio contact reported injuries. Contact since had been lost.
“Sorry, Agent O’Dell,” Wilson shouted over his helmet mike. “We won’t have time to drop you off.”
That’s when Liz first noticed O’Dell’s white-knuckled grip. Now she wondered if the FBI agent would last. Liz couldn’t ask whether she had taken the capsules she’d slipped to her. Though they were definitely not a miracle cure, she hoped O’Dell had trusted her. Otherwise she’d be feeling sick very soon. In the short time since they left the beach the winds had picked up over the Gulf. Away from shore, the seas were kicking high. And now, so was Liz’s adrenaline.
They found the boat quickly. Liz kept her helmet on, staying connected to their ICS while they figured this one out.
The cabin cruiser had tilted but hadn’t rolled yet. The waves were battering it and had already broken apart some of the cockpit and the rail. One person bobbed in the water, not more than a head in a life jacket with an arm hanging on to a torn piece of the cockpit that dangled, barely attached to the boat. A dog, what looked to Liz like a black Labrador, paced the deck, watching his owner while trying to keep his balance.
“Radio’s completely out?” Kesnick asked.
“Doesn’t matter. He can’t reach it,” Ellis said.
“Looks like only one rescue,” Wilson said.
“We can’t drop the basket in the water,” Kesnick told them. “Current will pull them under the boat.”
“Then where the hell are you dropping it?” Wilson asked.
Liz glanced at O’Dell, who was watching her prepare. Was O’Dell wondering why the men didn’t ask what she thought?
Silently Liz was planning her own strategy. Stay away from that railing. Don’t put any extra weight on the tip-side or it’ll roll. The boat was moving with the current, and as soon as Wilson dropped into hover the rotor wash would set the boat rocking. Initial radio contact reported injuries. If they dropped the basket onto the tilted boat, Liz would have to find a way to roll him out of the water debris, back onto the boat, and into the rescue basket.
“Direct deployment’s gonna be tricky,” Kesnick was saying. “Don’t push it or strain yourself. Let me do the dropping.”
Liz realized he was talking to her. She looked up at him.
“Let me do the heavy lifting, Bailey. We may need to quick strop him just to get him into the basket. Get it under his arms and let me hoist him while you guide him into the basket. Okay? I don’t wanna lose you both under that damned boat. You got that?”
She nodded. Gave him a thumbs-up. Let out a long breath. She started to remove her helmet when she heard Wilson.
“We’ve got one rescue, Bailey. Unless you find someone else in the water, that basket is only coming up once. We’re not sending it down again for that dog. You understand, Bailey? This isn’t New Orleans after Katrina. That dog is not coming up. It’ll have to wait for the cutter.”
She yanked off the helmet without a response. As Liz tucked her hair into her surf hood and strapped on her Seda helmet, she purposely avoided O’Dell’s eyes.
She readjusted her harness and rechecked her restraints. Her adrenaline was pumping and she needed to calm it down a notch, just enough to let it work for her, not against her. They could talk all they wanted, analyze and discuss to the last detail, but once she was out on that cable it was Liz who’d be balancing on the edge of that tilted cruiser. It’d be up to Liz to maneuver the survivor before a lift could even be made. And it’d be Liz’s ass if it didn’t work.
She scooted into position at the door. Kesnick waited for her glance then held her eyes a beat longer than usual. “Let me help you on this.” Maybe he had read her mind.
She nodded and he tapped her chest. She gave him a thumbs-up and crawled out. She slid down just a few feet to stop and wait for the hoist cable to tighten, but instead the wind caught it. The cable looped and bucked then jerked Liz like she was hanging on to the end of a whip. The rotor wash twisted her, pushing her in one direction then the other. Another jerk wrenched her spine. That’s when she started to spin. It was like getting sucked up into a wind tunnel.
All Liz could see was a blur as she hung tight to the cable. She closed her eyes and dug her heels down around the cable, managing to keep her feet crossed at the ankles. She tucked her chin into her chest so the cable didn’t wind around her neck. She made her body as rigid as possible.
She did everything she was taught to do. But the spin only accelerated.
CHAPTER 17