Category Five (27 page)

“I'll find out about the Navy. I should be at Eco-Watch in less than twenty minutes.”

“I'll talk to you then.”

“Donovan,” William paused as he formed the words. “Do whatever it takes to save them.”

“I will.” Donovan hung up…then looked across the aisle at Erin. “Looks like you'll get two exclusives in one week. One about me, the other about this. Lucky girl.”

“When it rains it pours.” Erin brushed her hair away from her eyes. “Now can you tell me exactly what we're going to do—when we get where we're going?”

“The first thing is to get up close and personal with the other airplane. We need to see exactly how much damage they have to
the airframe. Frank used to be an engineer with the company that builds these airplanes. He'll be able to give us his expert opinion as to how much punishment they can take.”

“You mean to fly back out the way they came?”

Donovan nodded, “Hopefully, we'll be able to lead the way, test the water so to speak. If we can find a soft spot in the hurricane, we might be to able ease them out of the storm.”

“And if that won't work, your friend is checking with the Navy?”

“Worst scenario is they have to ditch,” Donovan answered, grimly. “They'll have to ride out the storm in the water, at least until we can get some rescue elements in there to pick them up.”

“But either way you think you can save them?”

“Nothing is a given,” Donovan said, bluntly.

“What are you saying? That we could all die trying to save the other plane?”

“It's a possibility.” Donovan leveled his gaze at her. “You volunteered, remember?”

Erin eyed him cautiously. A look of resignation came over her face as she nodded.

“You of all people should understand the lengths I'm willing to go to save the people I care about.” Donovan leaned across to get her undivided attention, to hear the intensity in his voice. “After all I've lost in my life. My parents…Meredith. Do you think I'd be able to fly off and leave Michael and the others to die?”

“That's not what I was saying,” Erin stuttered.

“I hope when you write your story you'll talk about what a slow death survivors can go through. The empty nights when you plead with the heavens to take you too, followed by waves of guilt and despair. Dying is the easy part—it's surviving that's the real trick.”

Erin shrunk in the face of Donovan's barrage.

“Everyone dear to me is on the other airplane. It's a matter of
loyalty…and love. Put that in your story. Those people are worth more to me than all the money in the universe.”

“Donovan!” Frank yelled from the cockpit. “We have Michael on the radio!”

“You love her, don't you?” Erin said before he'd taken two steps.

Donovan kept walking. Erin wouldn't understand, even if he tried to explain. It was about more than Lauren. It was about Michael, Randy, and the others who'd entrusted Eco-Watch with their safety. In ten years they'd not had a single fatality. Donovan wasn't about to start now.

“We've got him on the VHF.” Frank turned as Donovan came barreling into the cockpit.

“Good work,” Donovan said, then strapped in and reached for his headset. He saw from the FMS that they had a tremendous tailwind. They were only thirteen minutes from the eye.

“Michael,” Donovan transmitted the instant he was settled. “It's Donovan. How you doing?”

“I'm not sure yet. Lauren is still in the back. I'm told Randy is hurt, though I don't know how badly. This airplane is pretty screwed up. The controls are a little stiff and I keep feeling a vibration in the elevator. Other than that, I'm having a pretty good day.”

“How much fuel do you have left? Frank wants to know if there's anything wrong with the airplane besides the controls.” Donovan had a million questions, but he needed to understand the essentials first.

“Frank's with you?” Michael asked, cautiously. “I know I'm screwed if you got him up in an airplane.”

“Frank says he only comes on the important flights,” Donovan replied, dryly. “Now, how much fuel do you have left?”

“On one engine, I'm showing I have four hours and eleven minutes until dry tanks. But I haven't had a chance to check for
any fuel leaks. As for the rest of the plane, I still have all my instruments up front and everything reads fine. Lauren did tell me we had a bunch of holes in the fuselage, hence the loss of pressurization. Ask Frank if this thing is still under warranty.”

“Don't worry about it. We'll buy another one.” Donovan was encouraged by Michael's usual flippant mood.

“Where are you guys?”

“We're at 45,000 feet, about ten minutes out. We'll be coming in over the top of the storm. Once we get to the eye, we'll come down and take a look.”

“We'll be here,” Michael replied.

“How much oxygen do you have left?” Donovan was mentally working on a plan. “If you climbed back up as high as you could go…how long could you stay there?”

“I've already given that some thought. Lauren and I used the masks for quite a while before we could start down. I'm showing about half of our supply left. That would get us a little ways. I have no idea about the status of the bottles in the cabin. Lauren will have to check that for me. But we do have the two portable bottles, which might give us another fifteen, twenty minutes.”

“Okay. It's just a thought.” Donovan felt his idea dissolve. With such a depleted system, they would be hard-pressed to stay up as long as it would take to get over the worst of the weather.

“Can I ask how far away the nearest ship might be?” Michael ventured.

“I'm working on that,” Donovan replied. “With the storm it's not like there's much to pick from.”

“Anything would be better than trying to make this airplane float. I'm not sure, but I think it'd make a lousy boat. Plus, we don't have any oars.”

For the first time, Donovan could feel the stress in Michael's voice. He looked at both Nicolas and Frank. From their expressions they'd heard it also.

“If we knew more about the holes in the pressure vessel,” Frank was thinking out loud, “we might be able to plug them up enough to hold pressure in the cabin.”

“Good thought.” Donovan turned to the former engineer, “How high could a stripped Gulfstream climb?”

“You mean if they threw out all the equipment, everything that wasn't welded down? Interesting…Let me think about that for a minute.”

“I can feel the wheels turning from here,” Michael transmitted. “Care to fill me in?”

“Frank's working on a few things. We'll know more when we can look at your airplane.”

“I can see the eye.” Nicolas pointed just off the nose. “Jesus, it's not very big.”

Donovan looked up and saw the indention in the sea of clouds. Nicolas was right; it was far smaller than others he'd seen.

“Michael. We see the eye. We're about to start down. Are you still at 10,000 feet?”

“Yeah. I'll stay here. I'm making left turns to stay in the clear air. The airplane turns better in that direction. You'll see me. We're the only airplane in the pattern.”

“Hang in there, buddy. We're almost there.” Donovan grabbed a handful of throttles and began to ease the
da Vinci
from its high altitude perch. Nicolas adjusted the tilt on their weather radar. Below them, wound tightly around the eye, were the rings of violent weather. The Gulfstream shuddered as they closed the distance with the thin wisps of vapor that marked the upper reaches of Helena. As if hurling over a huge crater, the sky beneath them opened up. Donovan clicked off the autopilot and banked the Gulfstream hard to the left, while pulling the speed brake handle. On the sleek wings, panels were forced out into the slipstream. Responding to Donovan's sure hand, the
da Vinci
began to spiral downward into what looked for all the world like a huge hole.

“My God!” Nicolas remarked nervously as they screamed down from the heavens. “I've never seen anything like this.”

“This is what you guys do for a living?” Frank replied, his hands gripped the edge of his seat. The toothpick had gone motionless as he peered out the windshield.

“This is a once in a lifetime deal, I can assure you.” Donovan gently increased their bank angle to keep them in the eye. “I want all eyes peeled for Michael's airplane. I'm going to level off at 12,000 feet until we find him. The last thing we need is to have a mid-air collision.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Nicolas raised his seat to get a better glimpse out the front of the plane. “I just can't get over how narrow this shaft is. It's like flying down a gopher hole.”

“I see them!” Frank pointed from between the two pilots. “Down low at ten o'clock.”

Donovan squinted and moved his head back and forth until he spotted the white speck. He carefully adjusted their descent angle to be able to come down behind the
Galileo
.

“We've got you in sight.” Donovan radioed to Michael. “What's your speed?”

“I'm back to 200 knots. What do you need?”

“That's fine.” Donovan raised the nose to start bleeding off the excess speed. The throttles were back at idle. They were still 10,000 feet above Michael.

“Hang on,” Donovan muttered as he threw the jet into a tighter turn. He continued to bring the nose up while maintaining a healthy distance from the vertical walls of the storm. He lost sight of Michael as he cranked the Gulfstream around. His eyes were riveted on the instruments in front of him. They were plummeting through 13,000 feet. Donovan held his breath as he continued the turn. If he'd planned this correctly, they'd level out right behind Michael.

“There they are!” Nicolas called out. “Off to the left. We're closing fast.”

Donovan gave the
Galileo
a quick glance. They were closer than he'd planned. He raised the nose and slammed the airbrakes shut. “Give me ten degrees of flaps!” Donovan felt the controls respond to the drag. “Now give me twenty degrees.”

Nicolas instantly followed Donovan's commands. “They're at twenty. Speed is going through 210 knots.”

Donovan added a touch of power as Michael's airplane grew large in their windscreen. “Perfect. Now bring the flaps back up to ten degrees.”

“Done,” Nicolas replied. “Look at what's left of their right engine.”

Donovan adjusted the speed to match Michael's. He moved in until they were only twenty feet from the other plane. Every nerve fiber in his body was wired into what the
Galileo
was doing. Formation flying didn't allow for even the slightest mistake. He let his eyes wander first to the right engine. Half the cowling was gone, shredded when the turbine section exploded. White-hot titanium fragments had been flung out of the core in what must have been a huge blast. At least half the engine was missing. A collection of wires and tubes was fluttering in the slipstream.

“Look at the horizontal stabilizer.” Frank leaned forward between them. “It looks like Swiss cheese.”

Donovan studied where the shrapnel had peppered the airframe on the right side. It looked like the aluminum had been ripped with machine gun fire. His heart sank as he studied the damage. It was a testament to the sturdy Gulfstream that Michael could even control the wounded airplane.

“What do you think?” Donovan looked over at Frank.

“I think it's a pretty tough airplane,” Frank responded, as if he were a million miles away. “Nicolas, hand me my binoculars.”

“Michael, you can't see us, but we're here,” Donovan transmitted.

“It's about time. What do you see?”

“You were right. There's not much left of your engine. Most of it's gone. There's some damage to the tail, as you suspected. Lord only knows how many turbine wheels burst when the engine went. Frank is still giving it the once over.”

Donovan looked over as Frank lowered his binoculars. The engineer shook his head solemnly.

“What does that mean?” Donovan needed to hear the words.

“The horizontal stabilizer is damaged the worst. I'm not sure how it even stayed on the plane. From what I'm looking at, it could break away at any moment.”

“So back out through the storm isn't an option?” Donovan's hopes deflated as he asked the question.

“No way,” Frank offered, quietly. “They wouldn't last five minutes.”

“Damn it!” Donovan used his right hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “How high could they climb fully stripped?”

“Not high enough, I'm afraid. On one engine, there just isn't enough thrust to get them over the weather we just saw.”

Donovan looked at the
Galileo
as it seemed to float just in front of them. He swallowed hard as he thought of all on board. Donovan glanced into the expectant eyes of both Nicolas and Frank. They were waiting for him to say or do something.

“Michael,” Donovan finally keyed the microphone. “We need to talk.”

L
auren had cleaned Randy's wound and bound it as best she could. At least she'd gotten the bleeding to stop. His breathing and heartbeat were both strong and steady. She and Brent had packed some blankets and pillows around him to try to make him comfortable.

“What in the hell happened?” Carl moaned as he tried to free his hands from the tie-wraps that bound him to the console.

“I don't think he's hurt all that bad.” Lauren put her hand on Randy's forehead, brushing her fingers lightly on a bump that had formed there. She'd flown with him a dozen times. He seemed like a resilient young man.

“Where are we?” Carl leaned down and looked out the window. “Are we headed home?”

“Guess again,” Brent remarked, smartly. “Thanks to you, we're in Helena's eye.”