Vespers Rising (The 39 Clues #11)(54)

“All right, all right,” the operator said. “You’ll have to find them and pay when we get there, then.”

They sidled over and tried to lose themselves among the dozen skiers who were going up for a last run.

“Did you see that?” Dan muttered. “The dude punched concrete.”

“I hope Fiske is okay.”

“Look — there’s Casper.” They could just see him below on the slope as he took out a cell phone. “We beat you, sucker!” Dan whispered.

“For now,” Amy said. “Who is he calling? The Vespers must know about Grace’s chalet. We were sure no one was following us back in Zurich.”

“At least we have time to figure out what to do next,” Dan said. “He can’t beat us up the mountain.”

The cable car soared smoothly up the mountain, gaining height as it went. Soon they were hundreds of feet above the snow. The skiers laughed and chatted in several languages. A man pointed out a ski run to his wife.

Amy closed her eyes. “I didn’t expect it to be so … high.”

Dan looked out over the breathtaking vista. They were past the tree line now, and he could make out skiers on the trails, tiny dots that zigged and zagged.

He was glad that he and Amy were still wearing their parkas. It was cold up here, and the wind rattled the car.

“We left Fiske and that poor woman down there. Do you think she’s dead?” Amy whispered, her face pale.

“No,” Dan said. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure. He took another discreet puff on his inhaler. His heartbeat was slowing down, but he was having trouble focusing.

At first this had seemed so cool, to be back on the run, outwitting the bad guys. But the Vespers — he didn’t know these guys at all, and that scared him. He could still hear the sickening thunk of Fiske’s head hitting the wall. Casper had treated Fiske like an insect, something in his way to be squashed under his shoe. The look in his eyes … it was as though Fiske were something less than human.

He wasn’t ready to get plunged back into this. He wasn’t ready at all.

But he couldn’t tell his sister that. She’d worry even more than she was worrying now.

Amy pressed closer to the glass. She pointed down the mountain. “Take a look at that helicopter.”

A copter was heading across the sky, casting a shadow on the pristine white snow.

It powered closer, its propeller whirring. They could see the pilot now, and a man sitting in the seat next to him.

“They’re arguing,” Amy said.

“Look. That copter is getting awfully close,” one of the women in the car said nervously to her companion.

Someone else said something in French. The cable car operator looked out and frowned. He spoke into his headset.

Suddenly, the passenger in the helicopter lunged forward. They saw the pilot jerk violently backward.

“He has a gun!” someone yelled.

The passenger began to push the pilot out of the seat. The helicopter tilted crazily.

An American man yelled, “Call the authorities!”

“He shot the pilot!” his wife screamed.

The pilot, they saw, was fighting for his life. Helplessly, they watched as the passenger clubbed the pilot with the butt of the gun. He hung on to his seat while the passenger pushed him toward the open door. Someone next to Dan hammered on the glass of the cable car and cried out something in German.

Then they all screamed with one voice as the passenger reared back and kicked the pilot halfway out the open door. The pilot gripped the side of the helicopter, but with one brutal thrust the passenger pushed him off. They screamed in horror as the pilot’s body fell, gaining velocity as he went down, until he was lost to sight.

Someone sobbed. The cable car was a babble of voices in different languages, calling out in anguish.

Dan swallowed quickly. He felt sick. Sweat broke out on his forehead. Amy looked at him, her eyes wide with horror.

“I’ve called the police,” the operator shouted. He repeated the phrase in German and Italian.

Amy had turned back to the window. “It’s not over,” she whispered.

The passenger was now piloting the helicopter. It was heading straight for the cable car. Instinctively, everyone moved away from it, and the car lurched crazily to one side. Several people screamed.

“Stay calm!” the operator yelled. “Keep the car stable! The police are on their way!”

Dan cast a quick look up the mountain. They were far away from the top, and the drop must be hundreds of feet down. Now he could see the passenger’s face. He felt the shock of recognition. It was the bank president’s assistant, the one in the silver glasses. “It’s Bruno!” he told Amy. “The guy from the bank who dissed us. He’s a Vesper.”

Amy was pale and glassy-eyed. “He’s going to cut the cables.”

Dan looked at her in alarm, then at the helicopter. It was higher than the cable car now and tilted to one side. The whirring blades were getting closer and closer. So close he could see the intent expression on the Vesper’s face, the way his gaze stayed on the cables above.

“He can’t —” Dan started, then swallowed. If the guy was trying to scare them, he was coming awfully close.

Screams erupted throughout the cabin. Instinctively, everyone moved back, and the car rocked again. Dan hung on to Amy as the helicopter loomed in their vision, Bruno’s black-gloved hands steady on the controls.