Category Five (30 page)

“I was thinking,” Michael paused as he scanned the instruments. “This is just me talking. But from the outside, it seems as if you two got lost somehow. And for whatever reason, you can't find your way back to each other. I saw both of you on Saturday. From my experience, there can't be that much tension without feelings, and I'm willing to bet the feelings aren't all bad. Are they?”

Lauren wondered if they were really just Michael's words. How much did he really know? A million questions flew through her mind. Was Donovan separated? Did Michael know anything about the emotional exchange she'd had with Donovan this morning?

“I don't really think Donovan cares one way or another.” Lauren let her words hang, not sure what she wanted Michael to say in response.

“I've said enough.” Michael shifted in his seat. “You know, I've been sitting up here watching all of this.” He spread his hand toward the boiling wall of dark clouds that surrounded them.

“What about it?”

“We're just going around in a big circle, but each time we head north, the radar shows what looks like a weak spot in the eye.”

“Really?” Lauren's brow creased. She wondered what Michael was thinking or why he suddenly changed the subject.

“There's a part of me that says we try to get ourselves out of here on our own. I know Donovan told us to sit tight, but…I don't think I really want him to come back here and try to lead the way. It could be fatal for him too, and that's the last thing I want.”

Lauren pondered what Michael had said. She too had heard Donovan's defiant words. Did he really mean what he'd said about putting his own life at risk to help them? It only took her a moment to realize that's exactly what he would do. If something happened to both planes, in one terrible moment, Abigail would be an orphan.

“What are you thinking?” Michael leaned forward.

Lauren turned to face him, her eyes locked with his. “I'm thinking you're right. But I'm also thinking we have to wait. We still have some time to work with.”

Michael swallowed and ran his hand back through his hair. “How far do you think we have to be from the eye to survive the blast?”

“I was thinking about that, too,” Lauren replied. “Maybe a hundred miles?”

Michael did the math in his head. “At T-minus forty-five minutes, we're going to go for it. The hard part will be convincing Donovan to leave us alone.”

“I think I can convince him.”

“How? He's as stubborn as they come.”

“I'll tell him our daughter needs at least one living parent.”

Michael looked as if he'd just been slapped. “Your what?”

“Donovan has a little girl. Her name is Abigail.”

“How? When..?” Michael sputtered.

“Donovan and I had gone our separate ways when I discovered I was pregnant.” Lauren held Michael's eyes with her own. “Oh, Michael, she's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.”

“Why didn't you tell him?”

“I wanted to, but my decision to break up with him was based on a lot of factors. First and foremost was the fact that he's married. I was crushed, angry that he'd lied. You know him better than I do. There's a part of Donovan Nash that no one will ever get close to, a distance I could never penetrate. The last thing I wanted was an unwilling husband.”

“What do you mean, married? Donovan's never been married,” Michael said, flatly. “He loved you. He was devastated after you left. He might be guilty of maintaining some distance, but that's just him.”

“Michael. I'm not some flighty girl who dreamed it up. I saw the proof. I heard a message on his machine. I can still remember her name…it was Elizabeth. I saw them together, and when I confronted him, he said nothing—not one word to defend himself. He left me no choice. It's when I knew it was time to leave.”

Michael frowned and shook his head. “There's got to be another explanation. If you had seen him afterward, you'd believe me.”

“It doesn't matter anymore.” Lauren's words were clouded with doubt at Michael's insistence of Donovan's innocence.

Michael lowered his head. “I think it matters a great deal.”

“I don't know if I agree. But considering everything that has happened, Donovan should know he has a daughter. He grew up an orphan. I'm hoping the last thing he'd want is for his daughter to grow up that way also.”

“You know about his parents?”

“I know there was a boating accident. I just assumed it was when they died. He never explained much, but he used to wake up with horrible nightmares. Donovan survived, but he was adrift
for days after their boat had been sunk in a storm. Oh, God, it must have been awful. He was just a boy.”

“I never knew all the details,” Michael said, “Only that his parents died when he was young.”

“Enough of this talk.” Lauren sniffed and straightened in her seat. “I've already told you far too much.”

“I'm glad you did.”

“There's one other thing.” Lauren looked wistfully out the window of the airplane. “Abigail is with my mother. They were supposed to travel to Chicago, but it got all fouled up. The last I heard they were stranded in Newark. If this hurricane comes ashore, they'll be directly in Helena's path.”

“We'll let Donovan know. Through Eco-Watch, or even William, they'll be safe,” Michael said, quickly. “Trust me. They'll move heaven and earth to make sure they're away from the coast.”

“I hope so.” Lauren brushed away a tear that had formed.

Michael studied the instruments. He punched several buttons on the FMS. “How long do we have?”

“It's just a guess at this point,” Lauren said as she looked at her watch. “Three hours.”

E
co-Watch 02. This is Navy Norfolk. You're in sight and cleared to land on runway two-seven. Wind is 340 degrees at fifteen knots. Exit the runway to the left. There's a vehicle standing by to lead you to the ramp.”

“We copy,” Nicolas transmitted. “Cleared to land.”

Donovan could see the sprawling Naval facility straight ahead. He'd flown the Gulfstream as fast as he'd dared. They were minutes from touchdown.

“Ask them if the Air Force plane has arrived yet.” Donovan's eyes swept the ramp.

“Uh. Navy tower. This is Eco-Watch 02. Has the Air Force plane made it here yet?”

“That's affirmative. They landed five minutes ago. You'll be directed to their position once you're on the ground.”

Donovan set the
da Vinci
down hard. He braked heavily and deployed the thrust-reversers. With little fanfare, the jet quickly came to a stop. Off to his left, he saw a Navy vehicle waiting for them, its yellow lights ablaze.

Donovan smoothly guided the Gulfstream off the runway and fell in behind the Jeep. As they rounded a corner of the taxiway, Donovan spotted the Air Force plane. The Boeing C-17 Globemaster III sat next to a large hangar. Under its huge tail, the rear cargo doors were open. As he swung the
da Vinci
around to park it clear of the C-17, he thought the giant cargo plane was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. Four powerful engines hung from its high-wing design. Behind the C-17 sat a wheeled mechanical loader. The entire airplane was abuzz with activity.

“That's one big airplane,” Nicolas remarked.

“Let's hope it's big enough.” Donovan shut down both engines and set the brake. Without hesitation, he unbuckled his harness and headed for the door. Frank was already up out of the jump seat and lowering the steps to the ground. He and Frank exchanged determined looks as the air-stair descended the last few feet. He and Nicolas were going to stay with the Gulfstream and handle any communication from Eco-Watch or the White House. Donovan had instructed them to keep Erin on the plane and off the phone. As soon as the stairs touched the ground Donovan was off and running.

“Captain Nash?” An airman wearing an olive drab flight suit jogged from the C-17 to meet him. “I'm Sergeant Taylor. We just got here; they told us you'd explain everything once you arrived.”

Donovan reached out and eagerly shook the man's hand. “You're the loadmaster, I take it?” Sergeant Taylor looked to be in
his early to mid-thirties. With piercing dark eyes and a rigid posture, Donovan got the immediate impression that this man took his job seriously. They fell in side by side and hurried toward the C-17.

“Yes, sir. You tell me what we're hauling, and I'm the one who makes it happen,” Taylor said curtly. “We were headed to our base in Charleston when the order went out to divert here. Word has it, it came from the very top.”

“Where's the rest of your crew?” Donovan looked around; he only wanted to explain everything once. He couldn't get over the feeling that the C-17 kept growing the closer he got. The aircraft was immense and it looked to Donovan that you could play basketball in the cargo hold. Off to his right, a fuel truck pulled up and several men began to reel out the hoses.

“They're still inside the aircraft. Right now I need to know, how heavy is this cargo? How far we going? We need to figure out how much gas to pump.” Taylor pointed at the fuel truck.

Donovan pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Taylor. On it were the pertinent weights and dimensions. “Here's the breakdown…will it fit?” Peggy had pulled a file and transmitted everything to him as they'd sped toward Norfolk.

Taylor studied the figures. “Yeah, it'll fit. Odd sizes are our specialty—what is it?”

“Let's find the aircraft commander. I can brief everyone at the same time.”

Donovan put his hand on Taylor's shoulder. “We need to get this thing back in the air ten minutes ago.”

“It's how I always work.” Taylor waved the paper in the air. “Now, tell me—where's my cargo?”

“It's coming. You can't miss it. It's being ferried here by helicopter.” Donovan followed as Taylor led him up the main steps into the C-17. They went around a bulkhead, then climbed fifteen
feet up a narrow ladder to the lofty flight deck. From this perspective, Donovan looked down, amazed again at how big the C-17 was inside. It would easily hold the cargo that was on its way. Donovan went forward to the cockpit, which, like everything else on the C-17, was three times larger than the Gulfstream's.

“Skipper,” Taylor called out. “This is Captain Nash.”

“Nash. I'm Lieutenant Commander Hays; this is Lieutenant Jacobs. What in the hell is going on?”

Donovan nodded at the two men; they were still seated at their positions. From the guarded expression on Hays' face, Donovan feared this mission might be a tough sell.

“I'll give you the short version. What you're about to hear is top secret, so you'll repeat it to no one.” Donovan knew he had everyone's attention. “I have a crippled Gulfstream out there. It's trapped in the eye of the hurricane. In less than three hours, a B-1 bomber is going to nuke Helena. Our job is to get there and save my people before that happens.”

Hays remained silent. He looked at Donovan, then around the cockpit at the rest of his crew.

“I've already given Sgt. Taylor the dimensions of the cargo we're going to drop,” Donovan continued. “He assures me it'll fit.”

“He always says that,” Hays said without a trace of humor. He looked Donovan squarely in the eye. “What is this cargo?”

“It's a submarine. A small research sub from one of Eco-Watch's ships. It's being brought here by helicopter.”

“A submarine?” Taylor once again looked at the sheet that Donovan had given him, and put his other hand to his forehead. “You're kidding. I've never heard of anyone doing that—ever.”

“Just tell me you're the man to do it,” Donovan said, quietly. “Those people don't have any other option.”

“Skipper…?” Taylor let the words hang.

“Can you do it, Sergeant?” Hays asked. “Is what Captain Nash has in mind possible?”

Taylor looked up at the ceiling as he did his mental calculations. “This thing not only needs to soft land in the ocean, but I gather you want to be able to maneuver as soon as you're in the water.”

“That's the plan.” Donovan nodded.

“That's going to make rigging the pallet a little tricky. Do you have any idea how many chutes it's going to take? This ‘little' submarine of yours weighs almost 25,000 pounds. It's going to take a rig of eight, G-11 chutes. They're 100 feet in diameter, which in itself is a complicated task. Once you touch down, there's going to be a jungle of lines in the water. That's in addition to the webbing I'll have to rig to the pallet.”

“If that's what we need, then ask the Navy.” Donovan gestured to the small army of men on the ground. “They've been ordered to cooperate, so anything you want is yours.”

“Just so you know what you're up against.” Taylor was still eyeing Commander Hays. “How much longer until the sub gets here?”

“About three minutes.” Donovan pointed out the forward windshield. In the distance, he could see a Sikorsky CH-53 helicopter as it headed toward them. Suspended underneath was a white cylindrical object, the
Atlantic Star
. The submersible had been purchased by Eco-watch maritime almost a year earlier. Its mother ship was moored in Norfolk Harbor undergoing refit. Donovan was looking at the one thing that could save Lauren and the rest of the people on the
Galileo
.

“Good lord almighty,” Taylor cried out as he bolted from the flight deck.

Commander Hays turned from the sight of the helicopter and looked up at Donovan. “Okay. Why not? Let's make this happen. How far is it to the eye?”

“One hour. I just came from there.” Donovan was flooded with a new surge of adrenaline as Hays began to issue rapid-fire
orders to his copilot. He wanted to get out of their way, and quietly stepped toward the cockpit door.