at the same moment that Krause pulled out his gun. It had been tucked in the interior pocket of his windbreaker, which had prevented the pilot from seeing it until it was too late.
While Krause raised his Beretta and pulled the trigger, Jones dropped to his knee and fired a single shot from his Sig Sauer. The two bullets, fired at roughly the same time, passed each other in flight. Krause’s shot hit the pilot in the centre of his neck. It tore through his windpipe and spinal cord before it imbedded itself in the side of the chopper. The pilot dropped instantly, skidding down the chopper door, leaving a trail of blood. Krause hit the ground a spilt-second later with a bullet hole through the bridge of his nose.
Although both shots were highly effective, there was a major difference between the two weapons that had fired them. Krause’s gun had a silencer that muffled the sound of his blast, whereas Jones’s gun did not. The unmistakable sound of gun fire rippled across the parking lot and was heard by dozens of tourists. A moment earlier, they had been walking to the ski stadium. Now they were running for cover.
Huber heard the shot from his position outside the cableway. He had just loaded Kaiser into the back of a snowcat, a fully-tracked vehicle that was designed to groom ski trails and haul out injured skiers. It didn’t move very fast, but it could climb a mountain of ice. Another two minutes and the cargo would have been loaded next to him, and he could have been on his way. Unfortunately, the gun blast on the other side of the parking lot had spooked his work force before they could finish the job. The French surgeon ran first, which was understandable since the ambush at the intersection was still fresh in his mind, and was soon followed by the Japanese, who actually took a moment to bow in apology before they sprinted into the station.
Once they were gone, Huber was on the sidewalk alone
Just him and the four crates.
46
In close combat, elite soldiers are taught to check on the enemy before tending to their own. The rationale is simple: threats need to be eliminated as soon as possible to prevent further casualties. With that in mind, Jones kicked the weapon out of Krause’s hand and checked his pulse before he rushed back to the pilot’s side. As he had suspected, both men were dead.
Jones cursed loudly, upset that he hadn’t detected a problem sooner. Then again, there was only so much he could do against a faceless opponent with unknown motives. Spotting soldiers with rifles was one thing, but men with silencers was quite another. Suddenly the game had changed. From this point forward, everyone would be treated as a threat.
‘What happened?’ Huber asked over the radio.
Jones spotted Huber near the cableway station, then replied, ‘Some bastard in a windbreaker just killed your pilot.’
‘The pilot’s dead? What do we do now?’
‘Don’t worry, I can fly this thing. But we need to leave asap.’ Jones scanned the area for police. Because of his gunshot, the clock was ticking. ‘What’s your status?’
‘Our patient’s loaded, but the cargo isn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘You scared away my volunteers.’
Jones pointed to the enclosed cabin of the snowcat. He could see someone cowering in the front seat. ‘Not everyone. What about your driver?’
‘What driver?’ The answer came to him a moment later. Jones was talking about the guy who had retrieved the snowcat from the ski stadium. ‘Oh shit! I forgot about him. I’m sure he’ll be happy to help - especially if I ask nicely.’
‘Nicely, meanly, whatever it takes. You’ve got two minutes to load that thing.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Huber said.
‘In the meantime, I’ll clean this mess and start the bird. Call me if there’s trouble.’
Even though space was limited, Jones picked up the dead pilot and dumped him inside the chopper. As it was, two of Kaiser’s men (Schneider and Collins) had been left on the mountain because there hadn’t been time to deal with their bodies. They were two major leads for the police to follow. There was no way he was going to leave a third.
Next he searched the pockets of the gunman but found nothing of value. After grabbing the Beretta, Jones dashed to where the guy had parked and snapped a photo of his license plate. If he’d had more time, he would have searched the car for the gunman’s wallet or registration, but he