Approaching the north end of the lake, Harry could see a sandbar that had two discrete lines which appeared to be helicopter skid marks. He checked his course heading and pushed on. As his comfort level with flying increased, Harry was able to examine the instruments closer. He turned on everything and was happy when a rectangular instrument lit up and revealed a moving map GPS. At least he knew where he was now, in the far northeast corner of Minnesota. Harry changed the scale and the GPS displayed Thunder Bay straight ahead. Now if he had a radio he could have notified someone of the escape route. Why wasn't he more careful when he started the engine? It made sense: this rugged border was impossible to patrol and provided access to a Canadian airport with jet capability. Easily avoided radar and transcontinental range via the polar route made it a logical escape plan.
A glint of sunlight caught Harry's attention. The sun was already getting fairly low to the southwest and had reflected off something not too far ahead. Harry focused his attention and again saw a brief glint as the sun reflected off a helicopter ahead of him. He urged the airplane on and subconsciously added a little extra throttle. The increased noise and vibration made Harry focus on the instruments, which showed the engine manifold pressure again in the danger zone. Reluctantly Harry backed off the throttle. He knew academically if the engine blew or something else broke on the airplane the game would be over and his wife would be gone. Having his target in sight though increased his adrenaline rush. "Concentrate on the mission" - a mantra from his training came back - and Harry assumed his former military persona. If he was going to succeed, it needed to be about the mission, not about him.
Suddenly the engine began to cough and sputter. Harry glanced at the instruments: power and temperatures were both at the red line, but everything else was okay, except for a low fuel flashing light. Then he looked at the fuel gages. All three said empty, with the left tank a little less empty. Harry franticly searched for the fuel selector valve. When he turned it to the left tank, the engine smoothed out. Something else to worry about.
Concentrating on his flying, Harry experimented by letting the nose of the plane drop a little. He could pick up some speed in exchange for his altitude; coming in from on high at the six o'clock position was better. This would save the speed gain for later. The glint from the helicopter was more regular now; he was definitely gaining. Glancing at the GPS Harry realized they would be crossing the Canadian border about the time he caught up with the helicopter. A slew of international repercussions briefly tugged at Harry’s thoughts, but the immediate challenge was far more important. Dividing his thoughts and attention between the challenge of flying and the possible techniques for bringing the helicopter down gently enough so his wife would not be harmed, Harry flew on in pursuit.
The pilot seemed quite competent. If Harry could take out just the tail rotor, the pilot would be forced to cut all power and the helicopter would auto rotate to a landing. If the pilot was good enough he wouldn't even break anything. If the pilot wasn't so good the helicopter would probably be trashed although everyone should survive. How to take out the tail rotor was the real question. Maybe Harry should have taken time to find some more ammunition for his AK-47. Now he would have to use the airplane itself as his weapon. It seemed logical to sacrifice part of the floats to destroy the tail rotor; if he could just edge up to the helicopter from behind, the tips of the plane’s floats, which extended just forward of his own propeller, would reach the tail rotor without the main rotor interfering.
Harry considered just following the helicopter to the airport and trying to get the authorities to prevent their jet from departing. Glancing at the fuel gage though, this option was obviously not going to work. If the radio would just work… Harry began pulling fuses trying to find the blown one so he could replace it. His flying suffered greatly though, again veering off course. So after several attempts he gave up and concentrated on the flying. He was close enough to see a definite outline of the helicopter now, only a half-mile behind at the most.
Harry began to estimate his trajectory. Hopefully everyone was looking forward and his approach would be completely unobserved. Even the damaged helicopter probably had more maneuverability than he did with his limited flying skills in an airplane. Leaving the power setting high, Harry began pushing the nose of the airplane over to attack the helicopter. He gradually reduced power to match the speed of the helicopter. When he had closed to within refueling distance, Harry began nosing the airplane forward trying to prevent any oscillation. Rotor wash from the helicopter’s main rotor began bouncing the Beaver around, or maybe it was his anxiety causing him to over-control.
Harry concentrated on relaxing his grip on the yoke, trying to dance with the airplane as it bounced around in the turbulent airflow. The tip of his right float was now within a couple of feet of the tail rotor. The closer he got, the worse turbulence grew. The spinning disk of the main rotor was right in front of him just below eye level. He wasn’t cold anymore. Sweat formed on his brow as he concentrated on his delicate dance. The float was within inches of the tail rotor, and the main rotor was just a few feet in front of him.
The helicopter pilot sensed something was wrong. There was a different feel to the main rotor and he pushed forward on the cyclic trying to determine what was wrong. The helicopter dived away from Harry with the floats coming within inches of the main rotor. The feel of the helicopter controls returned to normal as soon as the helicopter's main rotor was again free of Harry's interference. The helicopter pilot shrugged his shoulders and continued on towards the airport.
Harry ignored his frustration and again set up for his attack, coming in slightly high. The airplane suddenly coughed and Harry's attention was drawn back to the instruments. All three fuel gauge needles were now pointing to the left of empty; it was now or never.
Harry pushed the throttle full in. Power would surge but then die back as air got sucked into the carburetor. His dance was even harder now because he had to deal with both bouncing from the helicopter rotor and his surging engine. Harry's approach wasn't nearly as delicate this time. He kept his speed up and essentially rammed the tip of the right float into the tail rotor. The response of the helicopter was immediate as it yawed to the right. Harry banked sharply to the left to avoid further contact and a catastrophic midair collision.
The helicopter pilot was good. He immediately cut power and the helicopter began to auto rotate. Everyone aboard had felt the impact of Harry's attack and Dr. Ahmad saw the airplane turn away from them. He commanded, "Shoot the airplane!"
The pilot was far too busy trying to land his craft to pay any attention. Dr. Ahmad's bodyguard was on the wrong side and could see nothing to shoot at. They had been following a shoreline along one of the many lakes in this area, and the pilot tried to head the helicopter toward the shoreline hoping to find an opening. They were only a few hundred feet from the water when a marshy area appeared. The pilot worked the cyclic feverishly trying to control the craft and land it in the marshy area. Descending at a couple of g's, they slammed into the marsh. It was a pretty good jolt which was partially absorbed by the grassy ground and the now splayed out helicopter skids. They had no sooner landed when Dr. Ahmad ordered everyone to take cover. They exited the helicopter, the guard headed towards the nearest trees with Angie carried along rather roughly.