Deadly Echoes (28 page)

Lauren keyed the microphone. “Michael, I think we need to
turn around.”

“What do you have?”

“I'm listening to radio chatter in Prince William Sound. The Coast Guard is trying to make radio contact with two tugs and a supertanker, but no one is answering.”

“There are three different ships not answering?” Michael asked.

“That's what it sounds like.”

“I know that these days, two tugs escort each tanker out of Prince William Sound, one of the changes they made after the
Exxon Valdez
spill. Are we sure we're not out of range? We're almost two hundred miles north of Valdez. The ships could be another fifty or sixty miles south. That's a long way for VHF.”

“It's not that we're not receiving them—no one can make contact. Even the Coast Guard sector command center in Anchorage gave it a try,” Lauren explained. “How long would it take us to be over Prince William Sound?”

“Thirty, forty minutes at the most, but it means abandoning the pipeline mission over a few lost communications.”

“I know, but I think we should investigate.”

“I'm coming back. Why don't we contact the Coast Guard on the satellite phone, offer our assistance? Maybe they have this under control. In the meantime, I'm going to stick to our original plan.”

Lauren typed in the Coast Guard Station for Valdez and pulled up a phone number. She was dialing when Michael came hurrying down the aisle. “I'm ringing the Coast Guard now. You want to talk or should I?”

“You talk. I'll keep an eye on the screen.”

Lauren nodded as the phone picked up.

“Coast Guard Station Valdez. Lieutenant Brody speaking.”

“Lieutenant Brody, this is Dr. Lauren McKenna. I'm aboard an Eco-Watch Gulfstream two hundred miles north of your position. We've been monitoring the situation involving the loss of
communications with the tanker
North Star.
May we be of assistance?”

“I can't comment on any ongoing operations.”

“I understand, just so you're aware, we're a research aircraft with surveillance equipment including infrared sensors and synthetic-aperture radar. We can be overhead in less than an hour and stream real-time video to your operations center.”

“Uh, stand by, Dr. McKenna.”

“What's going on?” Michael asked. “What are they saying?”

“He's checking with someone.”

“Dr. McKenna, thank you for holding. Due to the current situation surrounding Eco-Watch, we ask that you remain well clear of Prince William Sound airspace. Failure to do so will result in you being intercepted and escorted to Elmendorf Air Force Base in Anchorage.”

Lauren disconnected the call without responding and looked up at Michael. “We basically just got told to go screw ourselves.”

“So your response was to hang up on them?”

“If anyone asks, we lost the connection. I never actually heard him say that any interference would result in us being intercepted and escorted to Elmendorf Air Force Base.”

“Clever, but now I'm starting to agree that something's up,” Michael said. “Have you heard anything more on the open radio frequencies?”

“Just the same. No answer from any of the three ships.”

“Can you put what you're hearing on speaker?”

Lauren flipped a switch and the scratchy VHF transmissions filled the cabin.

“This is Coast Guard 45009, underway out of Valdez Harbor.”

“Roger Coast Guard 45009. Visibility in the sound is one mile or less with intermittent rain mixed with snow. Wind out of the south at ten to fifteen knots. Swells reported at three to six feet.”

“Roger, our ETA on site is one four five two.”

“Okay. A Coast Guard response boat just left Valdez to go find out what happened to those ships. They'll be there in fifty-two
minutes. Call Donovan and tell him what's going on. I have a bad feeling there's a tanker loose in Prince William Sound. I'm turning us around. We can be there before the Coast Guard.”

“What about the Air Force?”

“Don't worry,” Michael shot her a crooked grin. “They'll never see this old Navy pilot coming.”

Donovan pressed the satellite phone tightly against his ear to seal out the rotor noise.

“It's Lauren, can you hear me? Where are you?”

“I'm in the helicopter. We just made it through Portage Pass near Whittier. The weather sucks. We're down on the deck, headed east. What's going on?”

“We've turned around and we're heading toward Prince William Sound. I've been monitoring Coast Guard communications, and as it stands now, they can't seem to find three ships. Two tugs and the ship they were escorting. Donovan, it's a fully laden tanker, the Huntington Oil ship
North Star.”

“Oh, no. It's not the pipeline—I was wrong. Do you have any idea where the tanker is now?”

“The AIS transponders are all off-line. I don't think anyone really knows. They scrambled a Coast Guard surface vessel from Valdez to go investigate. It'll take them almost an hour to arrive at the last known position.”

“Contact the Coast Guard. Offer them our services.”

“I already did. They turned us away and warned us to stay away from Prince William Sound or we'd be escorted to Elmendorf. We're suspected criminals it seems.”

“What did Michael say about that?”

“Michael's flying this thing as fast as it will go. He said something about the Air Force never seeing this old Navy pilot coming.”

“Gotta love him. Find that ship.”

“Will do,” Lauren replied.

Donovan disconnected the call and readjusted his headset. All
the Huntington Oil Constellation class ships were double hulled. He knew the specifications since he and Meredith had talked at length about the need for safety years before the first ship put to sea. She'd pushed for ten feet of space between the outer and inner hulls and she'd been right. A year later, the
Exxon Valdez
had gone aground spilling ten million gallons of crude oil into Prince William Sound. The
North Star
held forty-two million gallons of oil, and if Garrick managed to rupture the hull, the resulting eco-disaster would quadruple the
Exxon Valdez
spill. He had no doubt Garrick was in control of that ship and had every intention of creating a disaster that would dwarf the
Exxon
fiasco, and the blame would be squarely on Huntington Oil.

“Who was that? Anything going on?” Buck asked over the intercom.

“I need everyone to listen closely,” Donovan said. In the front seat, next to Buck was longtime Eco-Watch pilot Janie Kinkaid. Janie was in her mid-thirties, a pear-shaped brunette from Australia. When Donovan and Michael first met her, she'd been a charter pilot in Queensland. During an Eco-Watch mission, she'd impressed Michael with her flying skills.

With four older brothers, Janie developed a wicked sense of humor and a rough-and-tumble attitude toward life. Michael and Donovan later came to understand Janie had grown up around aviation and spent her entire life flying helicopters. They also learned firsthand that her drinking skills could put just about any man under the table. After that weeklong deployment, they'd stayed in touch, and when Eco-Watch expanded with a second ship in the Pacific, Janie had easily beat out all the other candidates. Michael was the first to tell anyone that her flying abilities were as good as anyone he'd ever seen.

Seated next to Donovan was Jason, Buck's ex-Special Forces recruit from Anchorage. Everyone but Donovan was dressed in fatigues and bulletproof vests, and Buck and Jason carried multiple weapons. Donovan had a radio and was armed with a single Glock. Considering the news he was about to impart, he felt a little
underequipped. “That was the crew aboard the
da Vinci.
Seems the Coast Guard has lost contact with three ships, two escort tugs and a supertanker. It's possible that the terrorists have taken control of a fully loaded supertanker. At this point, no one knows where the tanker is, but the
da Vinci
is headed south as fast as possible, and once on scene, should be able to quickly pinpoint the tanker's location.”

“What tanker is it?” Buck asked.

“Lauren says it's a Constellation-class ship,” Donovan replied. “The
North Star,
why do you ask?”

“East Africa, years ago, when Somali pirates began hijacking tankers coming out of the gulf, my SEAL team trained how to regain control of such a ship. The Constellation class was one of several we used in our training scenarios. Janie, there's a helipad port side amidships, more of a place to drop and go as opposed to an actual landing pad. For all we know, they'll be shooting at us. Can you put down quickly and get out?”

“No problem,” Janie said with a nod. “Just don't be shy about shooting back every now and then, if you know what I mean.”

“Will do. Once you drop us off, retreat and hover somewhere safe, out of rifle range, and stand by for an extraction. How much loiter time would you estimate you have?”

“Depends when we find them. Prince William Sound is a big place, but regardless, we'll have forty-five minutes, maybe an hour of fuel remaining, mind you, that's back to Anchorage. There are other, closer options. I promise not to get anyone wet.”

“That should work. Once we're down, we'll make our way to the bridge. Jason, let me remind you that this could end up being all hand-to-hand combat. Be careful where you shoot, nothing much good happens when you mix gunfire and a loaded supertanker.”

“There may be other complications,” Donovan said. “When the
da Vinci
offered to assist the Coast Guard in finding the ship, they were warned to stay out of Prince William Sound airspace or they'd be escorted to Elmendorf.”

“Michael just ignored them, right?” Buck asked.

“Yeah, he's good at that, but my point is, if we swoop in on anyone in an Eco-Watch helicopter, we may run into opposition. That doesn't mean that the ship has been hijacked, it means they read a newspaper.”

“Good point,” Buck replied. “But any tanker out of the shipping lane is in distress. Most vessels don't allow guns on board, but these guys will most definitely be armed. It won't take long for us to figure out who the bad guys are, and we'll react accordingly.”

“What about the ship's crew?” Jason asked. “How many?”

“All together, they'll be twenty-five to thirty officers and crew. Most of them will probably be locked below somewhere, if they're still alive. There could also be officers held hostage on the bridge.”

“Security at the Valdez oil terminal is pretty tight,” Jason said. “I'm thinking the bad guys had to have boarded later, by small boat, so there couldn't be all that many of them on board.”

“That's how I'd do it, especially in this weather. A small boat could easily go unobserved in these seas,” Buck said. “It wouldn't take but a few men to overpower an unarmed tanker crew. I'm thinking there could be as few as five, as many as ten. We saw from surveillance cameras in Hawaii that there were probably four or five guys that boarded the Japanese fishing vessel. From what I could see, they may have had military training, but certainly not at the elite level. These guys are criminals, thugs, and should be treated as such. The two of us should be more than enough to take them down.”

“Three of us.” Donovan corrected him.

“No way you're setting foot on that ship.” Buck turned to face Donovan. “The group who has sworn to destroy you are aboard this tanker. They're armed, and when we show up, they're going to feel trapped and desperate. Jason and I spent years training for this very thing, it's not a hobby. The only place you need to be is out of the line of fire.”

Donovan started to argue, but Buck cut him off.

“I won't accept any other scenario. I see how gingerly you've
been moving today. You got your ass kicked yesterday. The answer is no. Any more resistance, and I abort this mission and resign. Your choice.”

Donovan knew that Buck was right. He'd hired Buck to make the tough decisions regarding security, and he'd just made the call. Donovan needed to step back. He hated to admit it, but the two former Special Forces soldiers spoke a language and had a lethal confidence that Donovan didn't possess. Being left out made sense, and if his calculations were correct, Garrick would fight to the death rather than surrender to live the rest of his life in jail. The decision left a bitter taste in Donovan's mouth, but if at the end of the day, Garrick and Nikolett were dead, then that's all that mattered.

“It's why you hired me,” Buck said, softening his tone.

“I know.” Donovan nodded his agreement. “It's just not my style to sit and watch.”

“I'm well aware how difficult this is for you, but this is my area of expertise. I promise we'll get them.”

Donovan sat back as Buck continued planning with Jason about making their way to the bridge of the
North Star.
If Garrick was aboard the ship, then Nikolett was probably with him as well. Had they taken Erica with them, or was she already dead? The thought of her death sent a jolt of sadness through his body. He wasn't in love with her. He didn't really know her, but maybe that was the worst part. She was smart, capable, beautiful, spontaneous, and perhaps what he already missed was not the loss of what was, but the loss of what could have been. The potential had seemed enticing and now it was most likely gone forever.

Lauren sat with her eyes locked on the monitor. Whatever she'd momentarily seen was gone. It was a brief, ghostly, infrared blur, then it vanished. She dared not blink for fear of missing it again. She looked at the television camera and found nothing but ice below them and clouds and mountains ahead. The synthetic-aperture radar suggested that the momentary heat source could have flashed due to a brief alley through the mountains ahead that led all the way to Prince William Sound. It could have been anything, a small boat, a low-flying bush plane, or helicopter.