Category Five (32 page)

“What else?” Buck probed. “I doubt he called to tell you something we'll know in short order.”

“There's a suspected spy on the
Galileo
. His name is Carl Simmons. You can't miss him. He's a big man, probably close to
300 pounds, so be careful. General Porter wanted you to know about him.” The C-17 swung onto the runway. The four big Pratt and Whitney turbofans began to spool up. As Commander Hays released the brakes, Donovan felt the push from a combined 166,000 pounds of thrust. He watched as the
Atlantic Star
sat unmoving in the cavernous belly of the C-17 as the airplane pitched up and clawed its way into the sky.

“Where's everyone else?” Donovan couldn't see Graff or Taylor.

“They're probably up top with the flight crew.” Buck pointed behind them. “Your assistant is quite a little fireball. Damn good looking if I say so myself.”

“My what?”

“Ms. Walker.” Buck smiled.

“She's on the plane?” Donovan shook his head in disgust. He'd had every intention of leaving her stranded in the middle of the Naval base.

“Yeah. She's up with Graff. I've never been on a mission with so many civilians. Especially a looker like her.”

“You can have her. She's nothing but a pain in the ass.”

Buck grinned, then changed the subject. “I've been thinking about the best way to get your people in the sub once everyone's in the water.”

“I'm listening.” Donovan was miffed at Erin's presence on the C-17.

“We have the Gulfstream ditch at the far northwestern quadrant of the eye.” Buck used his hands to illustrate. “Once we know there are survivors, we'll drop the submarine in the middle of the eye. By the time they drift to where we are, I should be ready to retrieve them.”

“I saw some of your equipment. Were those line guns?”

Buck nodded. “Once I free the sub of the chute and harness, I'm going to fire a pattern on both sides of the sub. The explosive
charges will shoot a rescue line out to 300 feet. I've got three of them. As the survivors drift past, they should intersect one or more of the lines.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Donovan was grateful for Buck's matter-of-fact approach. The SEAL left no doubt he could accomplish what he'd just outlined.

“Do you think your people will be in rafts, or in the water?”

“I'm guessing rafts.” Donovan pictured the two inflatable life rafts on board the Gulfstream. “That would make it easier, wouldn't it?”

“Affirmative. Spotting a raft in sixty-foot seas is easier than trying to find a person's head.”

Donovan nodded, then squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of sixty-foot waves.

Buck cocked his head. “You don't like the water?”

Donovan shook his head before he could stop himself. Admitting to his fear was the last thing he'd wanted to do.

“That's a bitch,” Buck said sympathetically. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah,” Donovan said wistfully. “Something happened.”

“Good thing I'm here then,” Buck continued. “My diver's mask is outfitted with a two-way radio. I'll be able to communicate with you in the plane. Depending on how much time we have to work with, I'd like it if you could relay to me their exact positions in relation to the sub. It'll help me retrieve them quicker.”

“You ever do anything like this before?” Donovan asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“There's nothing a Navy SEAL can't do, sir.” Buck unbuckled his seat belt. “The air is pretty smooth. I'm going to go get my equipment ready. I'm sure Sergeant Taylor is going to need my help to rig the sub.”

Donovan released his straps as well. “I'm going to the cockpit. I need to brief Commander Hays on what to expect once we get to the eye.”

As Donovan turned to go, Taylor, Graff, and Erin were coming down from the cockpit. Donovan stopped as they approached.

“Commander Hays says we've got a hell of a tailwind. We'll be there in less than an hour.”

Donovan nodded at Taylor's update, then looked directly at Erin. She averted her eyes. Donovan gently gripped her upper arm as she tried to move past him.

“Let go of me!” she snapped, but her defiance vanished under Donovan's withering glare.

“You've got a lot of nerve to come on this flight,” Donovan's tone was quiet, yet forceful. “If I'd wanted you here I'd have invited you.”

“Look,” Erin's tone softened. “This is the story of the decade. I had to be here. This is what I've dreamed about since my first day as a journalist. Plus, I can help. Sergeant Taylor said he could use me to help get the submarine ready. Mr. Graff agreed.”

“I thought you had reservations about my single-minded rescue mission. That I'm only doing this for Lauren?”

Erin lowered her eyes. “I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I was wrong. I've learned a great deal about you in the last few hours. You've got to understand that for the last six months I've had a picture of you in my mind. I had you pegged as a traitor, a manipulator, someone who would sell classified data for money. I'm still trying to readjust my point of reference. I'm truly sorry.”

Donovan let go of Erin's arm. He saw the honesty in her eyes, and for the first time since he met her, he felt as if she were telling him the truth.

“Go then,” Donovan said. “I hope your story does justice to everything these men are trying to do.”

“Trust me. It will.” Erin took several paces then stopped. “I still don't quite know what to make of you.”

Donovan turned and climbed the steps up to the flight deck. Erin's attitude shift bothered him. Earlier, she'd ignored his
words. Now she seemed eager to embrace them. Was she telling him what he wanted to hear, or did she have another agenda? He buried his misgivings at her being on board the second he entered the cockpit. Out of the front of the plane, he could see the familiar white clouds that marked Helena.

Donovan leaned down between the two pilots. His practiced eye swept the panel of the modern jet. He could see they were about to level at 45,000 feet, their speed building.

“Captain Nash,” Hays said, leaning back. “How we doing on time?”

“We still have a workable window,” Donovan replied. “I didn't know a C-17 could get to 45,000 feet.”

“It can today,” Hays replied, dryly.

“I'm told the eye is starting to contract.” Donovan knew that Hays was doing whatever it took to get the job done. “Last report gave it a diameter of only eight miles.”

Hays lovingly patted the glare shield. “She's big, but she's pretty damn maneuverable.”

“The Gulfstream will be listening on VHF, 129.72. The sooner I can talk to them the better. Their call sign is Eco-Watch 01.”

Hays nodded as Jacobs dialed in the frequency. “Done. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Fly fast.”

I
s it my imagination,” Michael craned his neck to look out the window, “or is the eye shrinking?”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Lauren looked at the same cylinder of thunderstorms that towered above them. “This hurricane has rewritten the books. There's no telling what she's capable of doing. But I think you're right.”

“How's our time?” Michael asked, well aware of each passing second.

“We've got an hour and fifteen minutes before the B-1 bomber gets here.” Lauren looked at her watch. “Or, thirty minutes before we try to pick our way out of the storm on our own.”

“Seems like a long time,” Michael said, wearily.

Lauren could see the strain on Michael's face. His usually vibrant eyes had dulled from the pressure. His sarcasm had vanished long ago.

“I have this bad feeling,” Michael offered. “That something's gone wrong for Donovan. I would have thought he'd have been back by now.”

“Maybe it's a good thing he's not.” Lauren regretted her words the second she said them. “I mean that in a good way. We won't have to convince him to leave us alone.”

“I know.” Michael tried to smile. “But you have some things to tell him. Things he needs to hear.”

“How do you think he'll react?” Lauren lowered her head.

“Underneath it all, he'll be thrilled. He's always loved children. You should see him when we're out on trips. He's the first one to stop what he's doing, and give some child a tour of the airplane. You can see in his eyes how much he loves them.”

Lauren bit her lip at the image Michael had painted. “You really think so? I've bounced back and forth, from imagining the best to the worst.”

“Eco-Watch 01. This is Reach 410. How do you read?”

“Who's that?” Lauren looked at Michael, as the strange voice sounded over the speaker.

“I don't know. It's the call sign the Air Force uses for cargo flights.” Michael quickly went for the microphone. “Reach 410. This is Eco-watch 01. We read you.”

“Good to hear your voice, Captain. Stand by.”

“What are they doing here?” A surge of hope swept through her tired body.

“Michael. It's Donovan. How you doing buddy? You haven't given up on me have you?”

“Where are you?”

“I'm in an Air Force C-17. We'll be there in twenty minutes. Things are going to happen fast once we arrive.” Donovan paused. “Is Lauren still with you?”

“I'm here.” Lauren had slipped on her headset at the first sound of Donovan's voice.

“Okay. Lauren, I'm told they're planning to explode the bomb at 25,000 feet, but they want your opinion. Seems there's some disagreement about this.”

“I've been thinking about that too. Tell them it needs to be much lower…more like 5,000 feet. Helena's energy needs to be forced up into the stratosphere, not compressed against the ocean.”

“I'll tell them.” Donovan replied.

“So they're not going to call this off?” Michael asked.

“No. But here's what's going to happen. Michael, you're going to get into position to ditch the Gulfstream as soon as we arrive. Frank talked to his people and the only addition to the emergency procedures manual is to open at least one of the over-wing exits before you touch down. It will ensure an exit.”

“Wait a second!” Michael sat up straight. “We're not going to fly out of this storm? You want us to ditch? How is that going to save us?”

“Because seconds after you're in the water, we're going to drop a submarine out of the back of this plane. You'll be out of the storm, buddy, a thousand feet below the surface.”

“Holy mother of God!” Michael replied, awestruck. “You've got to be kidding.”

“Nope. I've got one of our subs, the
Atlantic Star
. She's all buckled up ready to go. All you need to do is ditch, then get out of the plane into the rafts. We'll do the rest.”

“Are you sure this is the only way?” Michael gave Lauren a concerned look. “You make ditching this airplane sound easy. Have you noticed the waves down there lately?”

“It'll work. Trust me on this one, Michael. Frank says it's very predictable. The airplane will hit twice, then spin ninety degrees as you come to a stop. You'll have plenty of time to get out into the rafts.”

Michael rubbed his tired eyes as he processed the information, then looked down at the rolling ocean below.

“If anyone can do this, it's you.” Donovan urged. “There's not another pilot alive I'd rather have in the left seat doing this.”

“It's that alive thing that's got me worried.” Michael took a slow measured breath. “Okay. If this is what we need to do…let's do it.”

“When we get there we'll go over everything one more time.”

“I copy,” Michael replied. “I'm going to descend and get an up-close look at the waves. I need to figure out the best way to set us down.”

“Lauren, is Randy able to swim? Do you think he'll be able to get out of the plane on his own?”

“He's awake. He'll need some help, though.”

“Okay, Michael will explain everything that needs to happen. But hurry. We don't have much of a window. And like I said, once we arrive, this is all going to happen very fast.”

“I need you to relay a message to Calvin Reynolds.” Lauren thought of what Brent had suggested earlier. “Carl confessed to trying to steal information from the DIA. He also said his family is at risk. Calvin will know what to do.”

“I'll tell him.”

“Donovan…Lauren has something to say to you.” Michael gave her a sideways glance as he transmitted.

“No!” Lauren shook her head. “Not now.”

“What is it?” Donovan asked.

“Nothing. We've got a lot of work to do,” Lauren said sternly.

Michael leaned closer. “This is the time Lauren. He needs to know. There's no guarantee this is going to work. I'm serious. Despite Donovan's pep talk, we might not survive the ditching.”

“Lauren?” Donovan questioned.

“Go on.” Michael urged.

Lauren nodded; butterflies fluttered in her abdomen. She took a breath and sighed heavily.

“This is never how I pictured saying this,” Lauren said, her voice wavering on the edge of tears. “I hope you can forgive me.”

“I'm listening,” Donovan urged.

“If something happens…” Lauren choked as she tried to talk.
“If something happens to me, you have to promise you'll take care of our daughter. She's with my mother…Her name is Abigail.”

Lauren broke the connection and sobbed into her hands. She felt Michael reach out and put his hand on her shoulder. The only sounds in the cockpit came from the hum of the
Galileo
. The silence from the radio was deafening.

Michael was about to key the microphone when Donovan's voice came across the miles.