Free Callsign: Bishop - Book 1 (An Erik Somers - Chess Team Novella) by Jeremy Robinson, David McAfee

zigzag pattern, ducking into a roll every now and then to throw off the shooter’s aim.
    But the shots never came.
    When he reached the bike, he risked a look back at the helicopter. The shooters seemed to be concentrating on CJ. He climbed on the bike and pulled out his pistol. Most people couldn’t ride and shoot at the same time, because the throttle is on the right. But he’d been trained by Delta and could shoot just as well with both hands.
    He revved the engine and took off toward the chopper as they spun away from him in pursuit of CJ, who was dodging the helicopter the same way kids have a standoff on either side of a kitchen table—by running around and around. But eventually someone figures out that they can go under the table. Or in this case, over the table. CJ didn’t have long.
    Bishop fired several rounds, but they ricocheted harmlessly off the helicopter’s fuselage. 9mm rounds were designed to punch through flesh, not thick metal. He’d have to get up close and personal. Luckily, the sound of the chopper drowned out the sound of his ride and shots. They might have seen him run, but they had no idea he was coming back.
    Moving as fast as he could, Bishop steered the Big Wheel around in an arc, moving closer, but keeping behind the chopper’ tail. As the helicopter rounded the concrete cylinder, it came lower to the ground, hovering just twenty feet up. It was a dangerous place for them to be, but the rotor backwash was kicking up so much dust, CJ would be blinded.
    They were moving in for the kill.
    So was Bishop.
    He cut his angle of approach, aiming for the helicopter as it spun, and the large rock below it. He would reach the chopper just as the pilot turned its side to him. What he was about to attempt wasn’t his style. It was more Queen’s M.O., but he’d seen her in action enough to wing it. As the bike sped up, the chopper spun around and descended a few more feet.
    Just right , Bishop thought. Too high and he’d miss. Too low and he’d get sliced to bits by the rotor blades. After a quick adjustment to his course, Bishop got his feet up beneath him, and crouched, keeping the throttle wide open.
    Then, the Big Wheel crashed.
    The large rock was just the tip of something even bigger, buried beneath the desert. It stopped the vehicle in its tracks, launching the back end up. Bishop pushed off the seat at the same time catapulting into the air. The man with the rifle didn’t see him coming until the last minute, but he flinched away in time to dodge Bishop’s first shot.
    He never got to take a second. His arc through the air brought him below the helicopter. But not too low. Bishop collided with the helicopter’s skids and wrapped his arms around it. The helicopter pitched to the side, because the pilot was not prepared for the sudden weight change. Bishop’s body ached, but he fought to hold on. The helicopter nearly crashed, but the pilot managed to right the craft. When he did, Bishop pulled himself up to the open door. He couldn’t see well because his eyes were watering from the helicopter wash, but he had to try.
    Holding onto the skids with just his legs, Bishop unloaded his clip into the cockpit. When the gun clicked empty, he let go. The ground greeted him harshly, knocking the air from his lungs, but the fall had been short—just eight feet. While he caught his breath, he quickly reloaded the Sig and took aim at the helicopter again. He didn’t fire. He just waited.
    But the helicopter didn’t swing around.
     
    ***
     
    Devan screamed, but Massai barely heard it over the sound of rotors. He risked a look over at the pilot and saw a large red stain on Devan’s left shoulder, the one closest to the window. The stain bloomed outward in an ever-expanding flow, and Massai knew they could not keep this up.
    “Swing around!” Ahmad said.
    “It’s too late,” Massai replied. “Devan is hit.”
    Devan slumped into the seat, his right hand clutching the stick while his left