Category Five (15 page)

D
onovan lowered his head as the inevitable images began to assail him. Meredith Barnes had been a wild card from the very beginning. He could still remember her unruly mane of curly red hair, freckled face, and startling green eyes. She was a smallish woman with a fiery Irish temperament and deep-felt passions. Meredith always said her mission in life was a simple one—to educate and perhaps save mankind from itself. An environmental activist, Meredith cut a wide swath wherever she went. What with her rallying cries over the Brazilian rain forests, over-fishing the world's oceans, and man's irresponsible use of chemicals, Meredith Barnes was a force to be reckoned with. Her tireless dedication and energy made her the key spokesperson for the environmental movement the world over.

Meredith had been invited to be the keynote speaker at a conference in San Jose, Costa Rica. The political summit of third-world environmentalists promised to be a landmark gathering. Meredith had orchestrated an historic assemblage of people who could help preserve the valuable forests in Central and South America. The night before they'd left, Donovan had asked her to marry him, and she'd said yes. Deliriously happy, they both knew they were destined to spend their lives together.

As they'd flown to Costa Rica, they'd laughed at their rocky beginning and marveled at how intertwined they'd become since then. They'd met after a private fund-raiser, one of the many social outings Donovan attended. He'd donated money to her cause and was about to leave for the evening when she'd cornered him. In what he learned later was typical Meredith style, she tore up his check, threw the pieces defiantly up in the air. She demanded to know how, as the heir to the Huntington Oil fortune, he could sleep at night. She stood on her tip-toes and poked him in the chest as she rattled off a dozen ways his multi-national company was polluting the earth. At that moment, Meredith was the last person he thought he would have fallen in love with.

The confrontation with her caused him to take a hard look at how Huntington Oil did business. With her as a sounding board, Huntington Oil adopted a series of measures that turned the company into a model for eco-friendly industries worldwide. In the process, he and Meredith had slowly fallen in love.

The Costa Rican conference represented a huge opportunity to bring environmental issues to the world stage. Donovan, as one of the richest men in the world, and Meredith, one of the world's most loved champions for ecology, brought a storm of media attention to the conference. Donovan had rented a villa in the hills above San Jose, to provide them with an oasis of calm away from the chaos of the conference itself. It was a decision that had haunted Donovan for the last eighteen years.

They'd left the security of the conference and were headed to the villa. The initial reception had gone well and he and Meredith were reveling in their early success. As the car wound through the narrow streets, they were unaware that they were being followed. In the blink of an eye, a car blocked their path and hooded gunmen leaped out and surrounded them. Their driver was killed instantly in a hail of bullets. Donovan was slammed in the face with the butt of a rifle. His last image of Meredith was of her kicking and screaming as she was dragged from the back seat.

The next three weeks were a living nightmare. The media turned into a feeding frenzy focused on Meredith's kidnapping. Members of the summit fled to their home countries. Overnight the conference dissolved into mayhem as the ransom demands made the papers. Caught between the posturing governments of both Costa Rica and the United States, Donovan desperately tried to pay the ten million dollar ransom—but the bureaucrats blocked his efforts. Frantic, Donovan used his own people to try to contact the terrorists. He arranged to pay them the money, but only after he talked to Meredith, for proof that she was still alive. The phone
call had come in the middle of the night. Meredith's weak voice reached out to him in the darkness. In a rush of words, she begged him not to give in to their demands for money, for it would only serve to fuel the enemies of her work. As the phone was yanked from her hand, he heard her cry out that she loved him, then the line went dead. The next day her lifeless body was found in a muddy field. She was twenty-eight when her life ended.

Devastated with grief, he'd taken Meredith's body home to California. What he would never have expected was the angry reception he received. Environmentalists were outraged that billionaire Robert Huntington had allowed their matriarch to be killed. Rumors surfaced that he'd had her killed to stop her assault on the industrialized countries. The media picked up on the story and he was vilified on a global level. So quick and complete was his guilt in the public eye, the protesters so angry, he'd been unable to attend Meredith's funeral. Despite a press release about his efforts to save her, it only took days before he went from being one of the cultural elite, to one of the most despised men in the world. Meredith was a beacon of light for millions of people and he'd let her die.

Ultimately, Meredith's death forced Donovan to retreat to his one true sanctuary, his mother's house in Virginia. He could clearly remember fighting the pain of losing Meredith, the helplessness of having his life so tragically altered. Then there were the death threats against him, as well as against his friends and colleagues. There was a call to boycott Huntington Oil. In the end, he'd finally decided drastic times called for drastic measures. Robert Huntington would die. He, along with all of his money, would cease to exist. It only took he and William a few weeks to arrange the details.

He'd left Reno, Nevada in a Beechcraft King Air, one of several airplanes he owned and regularly piloted himself. He'd been careful to make sure there were witnesses who saw him
climb aboard the plane that evening. As darkness fell, he flew westward on the normal flight plan toward Monterey. At the prearranged time, with the airplane on autopilot, he left the cockpit and moved to the back of the plane. As the seconds ticked off his watch he said a quiet goodbye to his life as Robert Huntington. At the exact moment he'd calculated, he pushed through the exit and parachuted into the night sky. He watched as the strobe lights on his airplane faded in the distance. The King Air had enough fuel to fly several hundred miles out to sea before its engines quit. As planned, he landed just south of Modesto in a plowed field. Once he'd wrapped up the parachute, he contacted William on a small two-way radio. Half an hour later William picked him up and they drove away.

The next morning in a hotel room in Oakland, he and William watched on television as the floating debris from his King Air was discovered in the Pacific ocean. The media confirmed that billionaire Robert Huntington had perished. Speculation flew as to whether the crash was an accident, a murder, or perhaps even a suicide. So ready to embrace his death, the media never stopped to consider that he might actually be alive. Huntington Oil released a statement confirming the passing of its beloved chairman and quickly named a successor from the board of directors.

That evening, well disguised and armed with a fake passport, he and William boarded a privately chartered jet for Europe.

At the end of several months, his cosmetic surgery scars had healed. Twenty pounds lighter and sporting a full beard, he left Switzerland. From the ashes of his old life rose a new man. With a flawless set of documents and a well thought out history, Donovan Nash began his new life. He and William had liquidated his public assets, disguised his fortune in a myriad of trusts and foreign institutions. For nearly a decade, he bounced around between continents. He rediscovered his love of flying, and
worked as a pilot in Asia, Europe, and Africa. He used his money and skills to make relief flights into war or famine-plagued areas. Though no one was looking for a dead man, he was always careful never to reveal his previous life to those around him. It had taken years, but Donovan finally came across the idea that would fully embody his and Meredith's shared dream. Using part of his vast fortune, he established the foundation that funded Eco-Watch. Now on a truly global scale he was making a difference. He liked to think Meredith would have been proud of him.

D
onovan blinked back the tears. The memory of Meredith represented a longing he would carry forever. He'd been twenty-seven when she died. He was now forty-five. Up until a few months ago, not one in a thousand people in the country had ever heard of Eco-Watch. Donovan was convinced that Erin had started her investigation after the events in Russia. With the dossier in hand, he went in search of William.

“William?” Donovan called out through the silent house.

“I'm out here.”

Donovan went through a set of French doors onto the patio. William was sitting in the shade with the Sunday paper. Donovan smiled; it was a ritual the two of them developed years ago. They would talk for hours about whatever events were occurring: the victories and defeats in the arena of business and politics, the failings and triumphs of individuals and governments. It was one of the many ways by which William had educated Donovan in the ways of the world.

“Finished?” William lowered the paper.

“I have two questions.”

“I'll answer if I can.”

“How did you find out she was investigating me?”

“She asked for an appointment with the head of the Phoenix Foundation. No doubt to try to discover who exactly was funding Eco-Watch.” William smiled. “I arranged for that meeting to take place, at which time our investigation of her began.”

“Where can I find her right now?”

William nodded as if expecting the question. “I made the call a few minutes ago. She's at her apartment.”

“What did you tell her!” Donovan couldn't believe William had contacted her.

“Relax. She thinks she's going to have brunch with someone from the foundation. Someone who wants to talk off the record. It wasn't much of a lie, was it?”

Donovan nodded; the old man was still as shrewd as they came. The Phoenix Foundation was the primary financial body behind Eco-Watch, as well as a dozen other philanthropic endeavors. Each year the foundation gave away millions of dollars of Donovan's money. He and William both sat on the board.

“No. I guess that's not stretching the truth much.”

“I'd love to see the look on her face when you show up. Should be an interesting meeting.” William turned the page of the newspaper. “I suggest you go shave and make yourself presentable. You need to be at the Westfields Conference Center in two hours.”

The hotel was only minutes from his townhouse. Donovan knew he had plenty of time to go home and get ready.

“I'd almost consider trying to buy her off,” Donovan thought out loud. “But I don't think she's the type.”

“Neither do I, or I would have made that overture. But you need to be careful. She already thinks you're a dangerous man, so be careful you don't give her any ammunition. I think the key is to convince her she is entirely wrong about you, that she'll become the laughing-stock of Washington journalism if she publishes.”

“I already thought of that tactic. What if it doesn't work?”

“You could always seduce her,” William said, nonchalantly.

“What on earth would make you say that?” Donovan heard the words, but couldn't believe William had said them.

“Go with your strengths, son. She doesn't know you've read some of her notes, only that you found her camera. Tell her you could still have her arrested for trespassing, but that you're more intrigued than angry. It's an opportunity that's already in place.”

Donovan shook his head, though he had to admit that William made a good case for a more subtle approach. He remembered the old saying about holding your friends close, but your enemies closer.

“She's fascinated with you, or she wouldn't have gotten this far with her investigation. My guess is this young woman can't help but wonder what makes a man like you tick. It would be far easier to show her she's wrong about you than to try to tell her. Besides, she is rather fetching.”

“You're the ladies man, not me.” Donovan was always amazed at the caliber of women seen on William's arm at various Washington social and political events. “We both know you could sell ashes to the devil. Plus, your life is far more interesting than mine.”

William grinned at the remark.

“We'll see what happens. I think it's going to be one of those last minute, go-with-my-gut-calls.”

“You do that very well,” William said, quietly. “It's why there are thirty-seven Russian men still alive to be husbands and fathers. Not to mention Lauren, and all the other people you've helped in your life. If you really stop and think about it, this Walker girl is really no match for you.”

Donovan didn't really need the pep talk. But considering that his carefully orchestrated life might be unraveling in the next few hours, he soaked up the words.

L
auren rubbed her tired eyes. For the last three hours she'd been at her lab, sitting in front of the computer screens, working with
Jonah
and a National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration reconnaissance flight. The NOAA aircraft had been making runs into Helena, flying precise paths in relation to
Jonah
. Using perspectives from the two Doppler systems, Lauren and NOAA had painted the first 3-D picture of the inner workings of a category five hurricane.

The turbulence had driven the four-engine P-3 farther and farther out from the eye. They were now at the outer reaches of
Jonah
's range. But the results so far had been staggering. Helena was rapidly becoming the most powerful hurricane of the last decade. Her sustained winds were building upward of 195 mph. The pressure was so low that tons of sea-water were being lifted as the ocean bowed up within the eye.