Category Five (8 page)

The door to the room opened. Lauren looked up to see her boss, Deputy Director Calvin Reynolds. Tall and thin, Calvin always made an entrance. He was in his late fifties and had been with the DIA almost thirty years. Round wire-framed glasses were perched on his hawkish nose. Each strand of his thinning gray hair was carefully combed straight back. As he did almost every day, Calvin wore suspenders. Today they were red, and matched his perfectly knotted tie. Lauren prayed that this was her chance to escape the interrogation.

“If you're about finished here,” Reynolds announced, “I need Dr. McKenna.”

Lauren didn't wait for a reply. She stood and glared at the two men. “Yes. We're done.” She turned toward Calvin and mouthed a silent thank you.

Reynolds held the door open for her to pass, then addressed the investigators. “I've just received a message from the Navy. Dr. Kenneth Browning is missing. He was last seen about to board the USS
Thorn
. Now he's vanished. They suspect he was swept overboard as they steamed toward the eye of the hurricane. One dead, another missing. I'd like some answers, gentleman.”

Standing in the hall, Lauren could clearly hear the news of Kenneth's disappearance. He'd been her right hand man on the project and she'd last seen him this morning in Bermuda. Lauren
remembered the awkward hug he'd given her before they'd parted company. She could easily picture him waving goodbye. It was just before she and Victor had made their mad dash for the airport. Her knees felt weak and unsteady as she processed the fact that he, too, could be dead.

Calvin turned to Lauren and said quietly, “I'm sorry about Kenneth. But with so much happening right now, I don't have time to sugar-coat every new development. This entire project is going to hell…And me with it.”

Lauren was still in shock. Of all her people, Kenneth was by far the nicest and least deserving of an untimely death.

“But enough of my problems.” Calvin tried to force a smile. “They're getting ready to deploy
Jonah
. Let's get down there and see if something good has come out of all this.”

Lauren nodded and fell in step beside Calvin. She could feel the adrenaline begin to pump.
Jonah
was her brainchild: a state-of-the-art advancement in hurricane research.

“I hope the Navy can launch it without Kenneth,” Lauren worried out loud. “That was why he went out on the ship. After all of his design work on the flight envelope and propulsion systems, he really felt he was needed when they reached Helena's eye.”

“We've established a direct link with the destroyer USS
Thorn
. You're going to be in charge of the deployment from here. I don't need to remind you how much we need this experiment to work.”

“It'll work,” Lauren said, convincingly. “We're going to have an around the clock, real-time view of Helena and how she's behaving.”

They reached the metal door of the operations room and Calvin stopped. “Helena is now a category three storm. Do you still think she could go to a category five?”

Lauren looked directly into Calvin's eyes. “It's not a matter of if—but when.”

Calvin nodded and blew out a quiet breath. “Then let's get
Jonah
airborne. If what you say is true, we're going to need all the hard evidence we can acquire before we sound the alarm and evacuate all of our resources in Helena's path.”

Calvin swiped his ID card through the slot and entered his code. The sound of the lock echoed through the hall. Lauren entered into her arena: computers, satellites, and the realm of global weather patterns. She hurried to her section and sat down before an array of large, high-definition television screens. This was the most complex system of computers and communications equipment money could buy. Using her password, Lauren quickly linked up through the DMSP-3 satellite. The Defense Meteorology Support Program, or DMSP, was a series of military dedicated weather satellites. Her primary role within the DIA was to monitor the earth for weather patterns that might effect ongoing military operations. A few keystrokes later, and the main screen produced a clear image of the fantail of the USS
Thorn
. In the background she could see the partially inflated
Jonah
.

“This is Dr. McKenna. Who am I speaking to?”

“Dr. McKenna. This is Lt. Joseph Herrera. Can you hear me okay?”

“I read you five by five, Lt. Herrera.” Lauren was relieved the link was of such high quality. She could see every detail of the operation. “How did
Jonah
ride out the passage through the storm? Were there any problems?”

“No problems.” Herrera paused. “I gather you know about Dr. Browning?”

“Yes I know,” Lauren said quietly. She felt a growing sadness fighting to be heard. She pictured Kenneth, his crooked grin and sheepish smile. His little habit of clicking the mechanism on his pen when he was nervous or deep in thought. But most of all she remembered how passionate he was about the
Jonah
project. He was the one who had come up with the name, comparing the eye of a hurricane to the belly of a giant whale.

“Dr. McKenna…are you still there?”

“Yes. Let's get started.” Lauren cleared her throat. “First, I need to know the current weather at your location. Specifically, how much wind is going over the stern of the ship?”

“As you know, it's very calm here in the eye. We're making nine knots, which is the amount of wind over the fantail.”

“Perfect. Now I need you to double check that the support wires aren't tangled and that the lines will uncoil as we inflate the airship.”

“Already done.”

“Good. Now, the bottles of hydrogen are numbered as to which specific compartment inside the balloon's envelope we fill first. Do you have Kenneth's—Dr. Browning's checklist with you?”

“Yes.”

“I'm going to do one last integrity check from here. Stand by.”

Lauren took her eyes from the screen. The eye wall of the hurricane was clearly visible behind the ship. The vertical mass of churning clouds triggered another burst of adrenaline. This is what Lauren lived for; trying to understand these storms seemed to be in her blood. She quickly activated
Jonah's
onboard computer and let it run a self-diagnostic test. The small highspeed computer was at the heart of everything
Jonah
could do. Once the airship was inflated, it would quickly ascend within the eye of Helena.

Lauren was proud of what she'd been able to construct. Inside the unmanned airship sat a miniaturized Doppler radar array. Current Doppler radar units were huge and ungainly. The most portable of them could only be situated on the beds of large trucks, or mounted inside a dome on a four-engine transport plane. Lauren had been able to take tiny components from the radar systems used in guided missiles and adapt them for her lightweight airborne radar.
Jonah
could be maneuvered inside the eye via satellite commands, and for seven days, give them an actual radar signature of the eye wall. All of the data was relayed
back through the DMSP satellites to this room. Singularly, or in conjunction with research flights run by NOAA, the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration, her system would usher in a new era of real-time storm data.

“Okay Lt. Herrera. We're good at this end. Let's get
Jonah
in the air.”

“Yes ma'am.”

Thrilled, as if watching a new life being born, Lauren sat and watched as the silver envelope began to inflate. It rose into the air, steadied by the control lines. The airship was powered by two electric ducted-fan propellers. A generator inside provided the power for the radar and the engines. Weight had been critical, so Lauren had used highly flammable hydrogen as the gas to float
Jonah
. As the stored fuel was depleted, the balloon would become lighter. Then they could simply switch over and use the hydrogen as the fuel source for the generator. It solved many of her problems. Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon,
Jonah
filled and rose majestically above the ship.

Lauren typed commands to the propulsion system and watched as each of the propellers jumped to life.

“I'll make one complete sweep of the radar before we cut it loose,” she said to Herrera. She powered up the array and waited for a computer display to her left to show her the Doppler radar image. On cue, a red band began to form on the black screen. Excited beyond belief, Lauren watched as
Jonah
began to transmit data. She studied the return and her smile turned into a frown. She quickly adjusted the parameters. The images switched from red to purple. In less than a minute, the screen showed an angry magenta ring around the ship. It was as if she'd been able to x-ray the engine of the storm. Helena was growing more powerful.

“Lt. Herrera. Release the balloon!” Lauren watched as the cables broke away and
Jonah
sailed skyward behind the ship. The internal Global Positioning System would take over and keep
Jonah
centered perfectly in the eye.

“It's away!” Herrera reported.

“Thank you so much.” Lauren felt a mixture of relief and urgency. “Lt. Herrera. I'd suggest you inform the captain his best way out of the eye is to turn to the southwest. The hurricane is building rapidly. I'm going to try to send this data to the bridge. It might prove be to useful.”

Lauren looked over at Brent Whitaker, the DIA communications specialist sitting next to her. He reminded her of an actor on one of her mother's television programs. Brent had a dark complexion and full head of tousled black hair. The only thing that spoiled his movie star looks was a slight potbelly and a scraggly goatee. Lauren knew he'd recently transferred from another project to assist with
Jonah
. She'd been impressed with his work, and how quickly he'd melded into their small group. Brent nodded that he could facilitate the transfer.

“Thanks, Dr. McKenna. Glad we could help,” Herrera said quickly; then the transmission was severed.

Lauren stood from the console and marveled at the pictures being sent back from
Jonah
. Her thoughts went out to the men aboard the destroyer. She hoped they could safely navigate their way back out of the storm.

“Let's go to my office,” Calvin whispered so only Lauren could hear. “We need to talk.”

Lauren was reluctant to leave, but she knew from the tone of Calvin's voice what he wanted to say must be important. All of the information from
Jonah
would be recorded by a round-the-clock team of meteorologists. Her job had been to design it and get it operational. Others would mind the store while she finished up her Bermuda report, then somehow find time to rest. In her brief conversation with her mother, she'd heard Abigail in the background. Despite her triumph with
Jonah
, she could feel her fatigue beginning to drag her down. All she wanted was to go home and be with her daughter.

Calvin Reynolds breezed past his assistant. “Unless God or the president calls, I don't want to be disturbed.”

“Yes sir,” the assistant replied, as if it were a typical request.

Calvin went into his spacious office and gestured for Lauren to take a seat across from his desk. Then he closed the door behind them.

Lauren took a seat, eyeing the more comfortable wing back chairs behind her. It was where she and Calvin usually conducted their meetings. Apparently his intention was to be more formal. She waited patiently as he quickly sifted through his message slips. He glanced at one sheet of paper on his desk, then lay it aside.

“First, I'd like to say how impressed I am with
Jonah
. From what little I just witnessed, it would appear that we're on the right track. Nice job.”

Lauren nodded and waited for the other shoe to drop. Calvin was nothing if not a bureaucrat. His highly political job demanded a constant level of maneuvering. They'd known each other for years, from her days at MIT. He'd tried to recruit her back then on behalf of the Defense Intelligence Agency, but she'd declined. Then, right after she'd left Donovan, she sought him out. Calvin cleared the usual red tape, and within days, Lauren held a position as a senior member of the DIA's meteorological forecast team. The information she and her staff gathered was disseminated to every branch of the military, as well as to the Central Intelligence Agency and the National Security Agency. Meteorology often played a role in the government's intelligence-gathering capability, as well as in ongoing military operations.

“I've just received some more disturbing news.” Calvin scratched his nearly bald head, careful not to disturb what little hair he had. “Kenneth Browning's body was just discovered in Bermuda. He was murdered.”

“Oh no.” Lauren shook her head in disbelief.

“This business about someone swapping computers is,
frankly, mind-boggling. What at first appeared to be an accident, is now shaping up to be a full-fledged attempt at stealing classified information.”

“Did they find my computer…with Kenneth I mean?” Lauren sniffed as she fought her tears.

“No. We think whoever killed Kenneth has your laptop. Everyone else in your department is accounted for, which makes this person or persons from an outside agency. I don't need to remind you of the magnitude of this breach.”

“Do you really think people would kill to get their hands on what I had in my computer?”

“You only have to pick up a newspaper to understand how many third world countries might have biological or even nuclear weapons, but no way to deliver them accurately. The contents of your laptop would go a long way in solving their problems.”

“I'm sorry. I think like a scientist, not a soldier. You're right. We took those radar components right out of the front-line missile inventory. It was the only way to solve our weight problems on
Jonah
.”