3
“Three minutes to last known pos-i-tion,” Hammond announced over the Dolphin’s intercom from his left-hand command seat. There was a distinct hiccup in his voice when they slammed through an air pocket. Sylvester would be handling the bulk of the flying from the right seat.
The tightness in Harvey’s neck wasn’t going away. It could be three minutes to action or two hours before they had to return for a refuel if they couldn’t find the lost Bayliner. Either way, they were in for a hard ride—the storm was still on the build and was slapping around the helo like a baby bird on its first flight.
“Permission to open doors?” Harvey called forward. It was never a good idea to surprise a pilot.
“Okay to open doors,” Hammond acknowledged.
Harvey snapped a monkey line from his vest to a D-rin
