Following Carla’s instructions, Dan flew high over the island so she could see what was happening on the ground. At that height, she did not expect to see anyone moving about.
She spotted the rescue helicopter which had landed mid island on one of the grassy patches, and two boats had moored at different points on the west side. She concluded that everyone was on Dom Island, so Max and the girl were probably still at large, if they were here at all.
It was obvious to her that Max would avoid the rescuers. He knew he was a fugitive, even if they did not. Maybe he would force the rescue helicopter pilot to fly him away, or steal one of the boats and make a run for it. Both those options were bad choices though, in her mind.
The rescuers would report the helicopter stolen and with limited fuel, where else could he go, but Majuro Atoll? They would track and arrest him when he landed.
Much the same would happen if he stole a boat. She also speculated Max could disable the rescue helicopter, steal both boats and sink one out to sea. He could then double back, approaching the island from the far side and hide it. She had already seen from the air, there were plenty of large rock overhangs under which to hide, or small caves at sea level, to slip the boat into. He and the damn girl could wait it out, living off supplies the rescuers would have brought with them. As she saw it, the beauty of that plan was, with no boats found, they would most likely end the search.
Max and the girl had already successfully acquired money and IDs in the UK, so there was no reason why they could not do the same again.
Dan interrupted her thoughts.
“I see a good spot to land, just there.” He pointed to a grassy area towards the north of the island.
“I don’t mean to be argumentative, but I want to land as near south west as possible. The plane wreckage is in that direction, so I think that is where they would have landed. I will stand a better chance of picking up any trail from there.”
Dan made his approach and set down gently, at exactly 10.00am, as calculated.
Carla checked the grass. It was about 300mm high and not likely to be a fire risk from the exhaust, she thought, remembering caution number 15 in the pilot’s manual.
The main rotor stopped and Dan applied the brake. Carla jumped to the ground and unlike solid rock it had a sort of resonance to it. She remembered stamping hard on the ground at Solfatara, a shallow volcanic crater at Pozzuoli, near Naples. That had produced a similar sensation, due to the magma chamber under the caldera or crust, forming a hollow chamber. It explained the absence of jungle, as there was insufficient moisture in the thin crust to grow more than scorched strands of grass.
“Dan, can you refuel straight away? I will take a transceiver with me and call if I find the person I am looking for. Then get the helicopter running for immediate take-off, because I will be only a few minutes away and in a hurry.” Carla decided she might need an alternative escape plan, if US1 was delayed.
“OK Miss Day, I will be ready.”
As Carla reached the cover of the jungle, Dan unloaded the last fuel container and the hand pump. He was grabbed and a massive hand muffled his cry of surprise. A powerful arm held him in a vice like grip.