It was a long way to the heliport, and especially long when you had only one working leg and a cane on the wrong side. The elevators weren’t working and probably never would again. Hobbling along, Jonnie had just begun to appreciate what a great job had been done cleaning up this place when he heard running feet behind him and a sharply barked order in Russian. Two men appeared, one on either side of him, who gripped each others’ arms in a chair lift, boosted him into it, and were running with him down the stairs to the heliport.
Somebody must have alerted the standby pilot there, for he was standing beside a mine passenger plane with the passenger door open.
“No!” yelled Jonnie and pointed with his good arm at the pilot side. What did they think he was, a busted-up invalid?
Of course,
