Chapter One
"Make sure you know what you've got your hand on. The left hand works the collective control, the collective changes the pitch, or angles on all the blades exactly the same amount. And the right hand adjusts the cyclic stick. When I'm hovering, the cyclic moves the copter forward, backward, and sideways."
"Do you see that there?" Christy pointed out the plastic canopy of the Hiller H-23 Raven.
Eve took them down lower, to where they got a look at a man in a flat top straw hat leading a donkey.
"Desert rat, he better steer clear of the proving grounds, they've got bombing runs scheduled," said Eve.
"Not A-bombs are they?"
"Lord knows. Top secret stuff however. I shouldn't have mentioned them."
"Why, will you be shot?"
"Sure if I was still in the service. We'll head back."
Eve flew the three nautical miles back to McCutcheon field, lined up with the helipad and lowered the collective to begin the descent.
"Watch the main rotor when you step out."
"I'm not tall enough to hit the blade," said Christy.
"Don't get in the habit, it's always going to be up there when you step in or out."
They stowed away the copter and walked across the private airfield. There were several people milling about, and two were watching Eve and Christy.
"The taller one in the olive drab flight suit is our pilot of course, name is Eve Regis," said a female voice.
"And the short blonde with the tight rump is Christy Grace. You see I do listen to you," said a male voice.
"Are we sure the guys helping can do this?" she said.
"They will help with the heavy lifting until we arrange for them to go bye bye," he said.
"Then we better get a head start on those two lambs," said the female.
The owner of the airfield did not believe in women pilots, or see any reason why women should be around. So there was no women's restroom at the field administration-control tower. Eve and Christy used a janitor's closet to change clothes. Eve took off her flight suit, left on her panty girdle and strapless brassiere, and put on some "Bronco Betty" blue denim overalls and a wool Gabardine frontier shirt. She pulled on black calfskin boots with fancy green silk stitched black kid tops. The one and a half -inch heels shot her close to five feet nine in height.
Christy took off her denim pants, left on her blue denim shirt over her wide bra and briefs. She unfolded and pulled on a black leather jacket and black leather pants. She yanked on a pair of black kid leather boots.
"When you going to start wearing leathers when you ride?"
"After my first wreck," said Eve.
"You'd look good in leather."
"Your bike looks great," said Eve.
They crossed the parking lot to where they were parked. Eve lived four miles from the field, Christy a little further in Montclair.
"Have you seen the new Harleys?"
"The 74FL Hydra-Glide? Sure have, I doubt if I get one soon," said Eve
Christy got on her bike. "The new Panhead engine they have to replace the Knucklehead is not supposed to leak as much oil. They've got large rocker covers to cover up the valvegear. And the rocker covers are lined with felt to reduce noise."
"There are no quiet Harleys."
"Just as noisy as your flying rig, now my bike." Christy got in her saddlebag and pulled out a black leather cap. She rolled her blonde ponytail under it and pulled the cap snug, then put on a pair of black leather gloves. She kick started her bike and over the thump of the engine said, "I'll see you when?"
"Not tonight, I'll give you a call tomorrow."
She watched Christy ride off on her Indian Chief Roadmaster. It may not be the top of the line motorbike now, but it is stylish, she thought.
She let Christy ride out of sight. The young blond headed nurse liked to race, and Eve didn't want to mess with that now. It was heading toward sunset and she needed to get back to her place. She fired up her Harley-Davidson WLD Sport Solo and took out of the parking lot.
***
Christy had opened up her bike and was zipping along U.S 10 coming up on the turn for Montclair when she saw the black smoke. Then she saw the Ford panel truck, its rear sticking out near the centerline, the front angled off the road. There was a guy sitting in the road holding his head in his hands.
She downshifted, throttled down, left her bike on the kickstand and walked toward the guy. The smoke seemed to come from the other side of the truck, she couldn't see where the truck it self was burning. The guy had a cut on his head.
She kneeled by him. "May I see your head, I'm a nurse."
He moved his hands and looked up at her. He was skinny, with a bony face. The cut was on the right side of his forehead, like he'd been struck.
"Feller run me off the road, I hit my head on the dash,"
"Might need stitching, really can't be sure until we wipe off some of the blood. Need to stop by the clinic," said Christy.
He gripped her right arm firmly. "No need, I can clean up at the warehouse, just come along and you won't get banged up like me," he said.
He yelped when Christy raked her fingernails across the cut on his forehead. He released her, then took aim to punch her in the stomach. He was surprised to see she had pulled a knife out of a jacket pocket. He backed off.
Christy was surprised at his attack. She knew enough to keep the knife tight near her waist, ready to thrust. She backed toward her bike. The rear of the panel truck opened and a short, broad built man, and a tall, dark-haired heavy built woman climbed out and looked her way.
"A knife, hadn't figured on that," said the short guy.
The first man, the one with the cut face, pulled a snub-nosed revolver. "Drop it sweetheart."
"You first," said Christy. Her eyes widened at the sight of the gun, but things were moving too quick for her to freeze with fear.
"Shooting her is no good. You handle it Tina ."
The woman climbed in and out of the back of the Ford. At first Christy thought she was uncoiling a lariat, then saw it was a whip.
"What do you want, what are you doing?" yelled Christy. She kept her knife close.
It was a long whip and the leather poppers at the end of it did their trick as she let it rip. She did it twice more. There was a slithering sound as she pulled the whip back across the pavement, like a snake in reverse gear. Meanwhile the guy with the gun kept Christy covered.
"Drop the knife there darling, we mean you no harm. We want you to take a ride with us," said the man who had come from the back of the panel truck.
"I prefer to ride my bike."
Tina snapped the whip to where it coiled around Christy's wrist, the shorter man leaped onto his hands and did two cartwheels until he was even with Christy, the man with the gun ran forward and the three of them struggled while Tina held Christy's knife hand with the whip.
"Get off of me," said Christy.
"Should I hit her?"
"Put your gun away." The shorter man got Christy's arm with the knife in a judo armlock, bending until she dropped the blade. He held her that way while Tina came up and unwrapped the whip from her wrist.
"Aruggh." Christy yelped at the pain of the armlock. "All right I give up. I don't have much money on me."
"It's just you we want. Tina get the rope, Frosty you pull her other arm behind her."
"Get her on her knees," said Tina as she walked back to the Ford.
Christy's leather cap fell off as they forced her down. The man giving the orders kicked her knife out of reach, then they crossed her wrists behind her and waited. Tina came back with several lengths of cord, plus some rags hanging from her Levi pockets, and part of a broom handle with string tied at either end.
"Back off Frosty." He did, giving Tina room to operate. She fitted a loop of cord over Christy's wrists, made another, then did some frapping work on that. She knotted it tight.
" Let go Olin." He did and Christy jerked hard on the binding. It didn't help.
"I'll lasso her waist and tie it off, we'll toss her in back," said Tina. She tied three loops around Christy's torso and fixed the knots.
"HELP!" came from Christy's mouth. "Get your pa-elgurff umph," was the next message she got out.
The bit of broom handle was pressed on her mouth and holding the wood by the ends Tina yanked back. Christy opened up to avoid having teeth chipped, and the wood worked back to her molars. Her tongue flicked over and under the solid gag.
"Egah! Uretep mugah efeergee,"
"Go ahead and bite on it sweetie, it will calm you down," said Tina.
She knotted the string under Christy's ponytail and they hauled the blonde to her feet and she stumbled her way to the rear of the panel truck.
"You going to ride in back with her?" asked the short man who had flipped cartwheeling toward Christy.
"Nuts to that, it's too hot back there. Hold her ankles crossed while I tie them," said Tina.
He sat Christy on the edge of the truck body, and bent to get her feet. She kicked him in the right shoulder, he grabbed her boots and pulled one, then the other off and tossed them over her head further into the back of the truck. Olin grabbed her swinging ankles while Tina lashed them together. Then Tina climbed past Christy, gripped her under the arms and with Olin's shoving, pulled her back into the truck. Christy tried to fight her off, but Tina flipped her on her stomach, then sat on her bucking frame.
"Give me these white socks here." She pointed Christy's toes to the ceiling. " You better knock off the struggle. We do need you alive, for a while, but don't make a big deal or there might be an accident."
She put more rope around Christy's ankles, then dismounted and pulled the blonde's ankles and legs and bent them double. Christy snarled past the wooden bit gag, then yelped with pain as Tina pressed down on her.
"Knock it off. Hold still, I just have to slip this around here. I'll give you a break and not put it around your neck. Let me tie this. Now you're set."
She smacked the leather over Christy's rear end, and climbed out of the back of the panel truck. Christy wiggled, yanked on the binding, and it bit her. She coughed around the wood in her mouth, looked out the rear of the truck. The trio of kidnappers gave her a brief look, then shut her in the darkness. Frosty kicked away the hubcap filled with oil and rags that had given off the smoke that Christy had spotted. Olin picked up her leather cap and put it on.
"That bike's too nice to leave, reckon I'll ride it back to the warehouse," he said.
"You sure you can handle it? We don't need you turning into road kill," said Tina.
He looked up at her. "Just get in there with Frosty, don't worry about me. I can ride all kinds of things. Even you."
Tina snorted and made a face. She climbed in the cab of the truck and Frosty drove off. Christy flipped over on her left side and was stuck there in the hog-tie. Under her leather outfit, she began to sweat.