The mission, he thought and looked away to see the maintenance pilot climb out of the copter and bend his head close to Karen's, the two of them doing pilot talk. The blades were whooping by overhead very slowly, on idle, the engine purring so deeply that he couldn't hear what they were saying. Hurry up, Wilder thought, looking at the sky. The light was going fast and Lucy needed the shot. Several takes of the shot unless he didn't use the cable. He headed for the helicopter. Wilder climbed into the right front seat, the better to hear Karen and the test pilot, but Bryce came up and leaned in.

"Hey, man. Thanks once more."

Wilder nodded, trying to overhear the conversation beside him. Then the maintenance pilot walked away and he gave up and concentrated on the stunt and what Lucy needed.

"I mean it, man," Bryce said.

"No problem. It's my job." The smart thing would be to do the stunt without the cable.

"That's twice you saved my butt," Bryce said. "I know it's your job, but that was really…"

Wilder looked up and thought he saw tears forming in Bryce's eyes.

Even taking into consideration that Bryce was an actor, it was disconcerting. "Hey, you're my wingman."

"Oh, man," Bryce said, really tearing up. "J.T., you're just-"

"Gotta get to work," Wilder said fast, and Bryce nodded and backed off, frowning like a man and giving him a thumbs-up.

"You bet," he said. "Roger that."

Oh, Christ, Wilder thought, and then Nash came up, blocking Bryce, and Wilder stiffened. Nash thrust the MP-5 stunt gun at him harder than necessary. "I checked it, but you can double-check if you want."

"I trust you," Wilder said, and Nash nodded, fury in his eyes, and walked off.

As soon as Nash's back was turned, Wilder checked the gun. It was all right, the cable would be okay this time, and if they were going to move as slowly as they'd moved before, go in as low…

He could do it without the cable, easy. Lucy had three cameras doing coverage. If he didn't use the cable, they could probably get it all in one shot. He looked at the sky again. They'd have to do it in one shot if they wanted the light. Plus, he wanted to spend as little time as possible in the air when there was potentially a person with a big gun somewhere around.

Doc climbed into the back, his face grim, carrying a kit bag. He pulled out the cable, a new rope, and a body harness.

Wilder shook his head. "Forget it."

Doc blinked in confusion. "Forget what?"

"No harness. No wire. We're doing this thing in one shot. I'll shoot from the skid and do the jump."

Doc's jaw dropped. "B-but Lucy-"

Wilder didn't give him a chance. "The cable didn't do Bryce much good. We don't have enough daylight to do this a couple of times. And I need a fucking beer. So, one shot. Roger that?"

Doc snapped his mouth shut. "Lucy's going to be pissed."

"Lucy is already pissed," Wilder said, liking the way "Lucy" sounded when he said it. "She'll get over it. And she'll get the shot she needs. Anything else?"

Doc looked at him for a moment and then reached into his pocket. He pulled out a large bronze coin, slightly bigger than a silver dollar. "Coin check."

Wilder nodded, knowing that was Doc's way of telling him that he had his back. He decided to leave his in his pocket. "Fuck you. I don't have mine. I owe you a drink."

"And me." Karen was in the pilot's seat. "Anyone in hand-grenade-burst radius, right?"

"And you," Wilder said. He hoped they were thirsty enough that they'd keep him alive so he could buy them the drinks. "What did the mechanic say about the bird?" Wilder asked as Doc put the coin back in his pocket.

Karen put her hands on the controls. "He said he had no clue why the skid broke, but it won't break again."

Not a smart-ass answer, but not the whole truth, either, he was pretty sure. With a slight shudder, the helicopter lifted. Wilder felt a tap on the shoulder. Doc was holding a headset, mouthing the word Lucy.

Fuck. He put the headset on.

"Everything all right?" Lucy asked.

"Roger."

"Skid okay?"

"It's still attached, right? You have a better view than me."

"Funny guy. How about the cable?"

"It's fine."

"The rope?"

"Good."

"The harness?"

"Lucy, everything's fine." He looked back at the kit bag on the floor next to Doc's feet where he assumed all the equipment was in top-notch condition. "It's all fine." She was still quiet, so he said, "Lucy?"

"Be careful," she said, and he wasn't sure what had happened but he knew she was rattled. When she spoke again, she was herself. "Listen, Rambo, if you splat on the road, our insurance premiums double."

That would serve Finnegan right, Wilder thought. "Look, I've done this a million times. Sometimes with people shooting real bullets at me. Now stop bothering me and direct the damn movie."

He didn't wait for her response, just took off the headset and tossed it over his shoulder to Doc.

The chopper was at a hover. The convertible was ahead and below, Althea in the front seat with Rick. Everything started moving, in slow motion just like before, and Wilder fought back a laugh. They think this is dangerous? Ivy coming in on a hot landing zone with green tracers punching through the night looking like they were headed right between your eyeballs, and the pilot pushing the bird to the max, full speed because he did not want to be in the area one second longer than he had to, and knowing you were going to jump right into the middle of some heavy, honest-to-God real shit while the door gunners were blazing away in the other direction, their red tracers screaming by the green ones.

Doc nodded to him, and Wilder stepped out onto the skid, finding it without looking down because it was where the goddamn skid was supposed to be. He tested it, keeping half his weight in the bird, then stood outside, one hand on the door frame, the other holding the MP-5. He flexed his legs and did a slight hop on the skid, earning a quick glance from Karen, who felt the chopper move. Wilder smiled at her. He figured she probably wanted to give him the finger but a helicopter pilot always had to keep two hands on the controls.

Down in the car, Rick turned and pointed a pistol at the chopper and for a moment Wilder felt a surge of adrenaline. Then Rick fired several times, blanks, and Wilder relaxed. He swung the MP-5 up and fired his own burst, knowing if the damn thing were loaded with real bullets, he'd just put a stitch of rounds in the bad guy from lower chest up through his head, but of course in the movie the good guy missed. Stupid good guy.

The villain fired a couple of more times and missed. Stupid bad guy

Wilder leisurely returned the fire, figuring it must look good on film, but feeling really dumb since the car and helicopter were moving at about five miles an hour. Stupid everybody.

Karen brought them even closer. Wilder dropped the MP-5 to dangle on its sling as they closed in on the car, ever so slowly. When it was twelve feet below him, he gauged the distance to the back of the car.

Stupid me, he thought and threw himself out into the air.

Lucy sat behind the monitors, her eyes glued on Wilder standing on the skid. He called me Lucy.

It was no big deal. Except he looked really good on that skid. Nobody would believe he was Bryce, his body was different, stronger, relaxed. He's not afraid, she thought. Must jump out of helicopters all the time. His girlfriend must not sleep at night. Maybe he didn't have a girlfriend. Not that it mattered. She shook her head and thought, Concentrate, you dummy, and Daisy yelled over the rotor noise, "What's wrong?"

"Macho dumb-ass," she yelled back, keeping her eyes on Wilder.