running across the flat grass towards the biplane, which was parked facing the long dark stretch of field ahead. When they arrived, Kruger ran to the side cabin door; he pulled it open and peered inside as Archer kept his eyes on the entrance to the field, making sure Rourke and Drexler weren’t on their way back.
‘Detective,’ Kruger whispered, beckoning him over.
Archer ran to the plane and stuck his head inside. He saw a large tank at the back, six canisters stacked in front of it in a neat cluster.
‘They must contain the virus,’ Kruger said. ‘That must be what they had Frankie working on at the lab.’
He stepped back so Maddy could look inside.
'Jesus,' she said quietly. ‘There’s gallons of it.’
'It’s OK,’ Archer said. ‘When they come back, I'll drop them and we'll secure the plane.'
‘Not here,’ Kruger said. ‘They’ll see us the moment they get back. The headlights will light us up like we’re on stage.’
Archer realised he was right.
'Get inside. The moment he checks his cargo, he gets a Sig Sauer in the face.'
Rourke and Drexler had just dumped the van at the scrap yard. Jogging back, they turned into the field and were running towards the plane when they heard the faint sound of engines in the distance. Rourke turned and saw ten or so headlights approaching, coming down the track. Drexler went to grab her pistol, but Rourke caught her hand.
‘Relax,’ he said. ‘It’s good.’
The lights grew brighter as a gang of bikers pulled into the airfield and drove straight towards them, the engines on the bikes growling in unison. Rourke and Drexler shielded their eyes from the glare and the ten bikers came to a halt in front of them both. They killed their engines, then what had to be the leader kicked down the stand, stepped off his bike and walked towards them.
'Who the hell are they?' Maddy whispered, watching from a window inside the plane.
Archer and Kruger looked out beside her.
'What do we do?' Kruger asked.
Archer pulled his cell phone but there was no signal. He had one pistol with seventeen rounds. Sneaking another glance through the window, he saw the bikers were armed with sub-machine guns, pistols and sawn-off shotguns. He saw the group talking, but couldn’t hear what was being said. He started thinking fast, desperately searching for a solution.
If he confronted Rourke, Drexler and the bikers it would be twelve on one. Their gunfire would shred him, Maddy and Dr Kruger to pieces.
They were trapped.
'So are we good?' Rourke asked.
The leader of the outlaw gang nodded. ‘I’ve arranged protection at your refuelling points. You won’t have any problems.’
‘ATF and the police will be searching for us. Can you handle that?'
The man nodded, jabbing a thumb at his men. 'We all live off the grid. Won't be hard to kill some pigs then disappear.'
'You'll get your money by the end of next week.'
The two men shook hands.
Then Rourke and Drexler turned, heading for the plane.
The rear cabin was a muddy brown colour, a series of seats towards the front and a large tank for pesticide or water at the back. Archer, Maddy and Kruger were huddled behind it, hidden from view. Peering round the edge of the tank, Archer watched Rourke and Drexler climb into the cabin, pulling the door shut. For a horrible moment, he thought they were going to move down in their direction, but they went the other way and settled into the cockpit.
They both strapped on their seatbelts and started clicking buttons to fire up the engine and rotors, running checks at the same time.
The crop duster sputtered as the engine started to burst into life.
Rourke and Drexler were ready to fly.
With three passengers they didn’t know about in the back.
FORTY NINE
Five minutes later the plane was in the air and climbing. Behind the tank, Archer watched Rourke and Drexler in the cockpit. He glanced to his left. Beside him, Maddy looked scared whilst Dr Kruger was looking at him for silent guidance. Archer gave them both a thumbs up. He felt his stomach tilt again as they gained altitude.
He would have to put a gun on the pair. Take their weapons and force them to land the plane. It wasn’t the best plan but he couldn’t think of a better alternative. He took a deep breath and reassured himself. The radio was working. They had plenty of fuel and Rourke’s Roller PD file had said that he owned a farm. He knew what he was