Category Five (16 page)

Lauren was still haunted by the reports from the USS
Thorn
. The 563-foot warship had been severely battered as it traversed its way out of the storm. Reinforced armor plated metal had torn and buckled by the force of eighty-foot waves. Major sections of the
ship's superstructure had been pounded, then ripped away. Lauren knew that a cubic yard of water weighed 1,700 pounds. In the guise of a hurtling wave, the physics surrounding its destructive properties were astounding. The destroyer was now out of harm's way, limping southwest towards the Naval base at Norfolk, Virginia. Lauren lowered her head at the thought of the nine men reported lost at sea.

“I'll take over if you want.” Dr. Simmons eased his girth into a seat next to Lauren. “You look shot. Let me finish this up for you.”

“Thanks.” Usually Lauren hated relinquishing her seat on the front lines, but she felt totally drained. Her earlier conversation with Calvin had done nothing to settle her frayed nerves. They were still waiting for the weather to allow a flight into Bermuda. The only good news was that due to the hurricane, most of the communications on the island were down. Whoever had her laptop, even if they'd hacked their way inside, hadn't been able to do anything with the information. If events went as planned, Calvin's security team would be able to get to Bermuda and find those responsible before there was any real damage done. She'd wanted so much to ask about Donovan's involvement, but she couldn't. She wanted to believe he was innocent…but a small nagging voice kept asking, could she be wrong?

Lauren's mother and Abigail weighed heavily on her thoughts also. She knew they were packing, getting ready to leave town. There was a flight out of Baltimore first thing in the morning. It would be Abigail's first airplane ride, and Lauren wouldn't be there for her. The thought of missing any small first in her daughter's life caused a sharp pang of guilt.

“Dr. McKenna.” Brent Whitaker leaned in close. “Here are the early statistical-dynamic observations. We're loading them into the computer right now. You should have access to them in a few minutes.”

Lauren stepped over and took the printout from his outstretched hand. “Thank you.” She'd look it over when she went back to her office.

“Oh, and Doctor?” Brent swiveled in his chair and took off his glasses. “I just wanted—needed to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“Is there anything that's going to slow this hurricane down? Am I missing something here?”

“No, you're not missing anything. Unless we have a major shift in the steering currents controlling Helena, she's coming ashore.”

“That's what I thought. I've been keeping an eye on them, but they're staying the same. As far as I can see, there's nothing on the horizon that's going to turn or dissipate this thing.”

“It's still a hurricane.” Lauren knew she was trying to sound optimistic, despite the reality of the situation. “And it's still far out to sea. An awful lot can happen.”

“I know. It's just that I've never really been in the path. I've studied a lot of weather, but from in here it all seems abstract.”

“Maybe you should put in a bid for some field work. It always helps to have some hands-on experience in the real world.”

“I've been trying,” Brent sighed.

“You want me to put a word in for you?”

“I'd appreciate that more than you could imagine.”

Lauren gave the young man a look of encouragement as she walked away. With Victor dead, she could use a new assistant. She made a mental note to ask Calvin about him.

She slipped out of the lab and went straight for the ladies' room. Relieved it was empty, she leaned forward and studied her reflection in the mirror. As she suspected, her red-tinged eyes had the hint of dark circles under them. She pulled a few rogue strands of hair back over her ear and straightened her blouse in the waistband of her slacks. Lauren washed her hands, then
smoothed out her lab coat as best she could. It was then she looked down and saw the report that Brent had handed her. The data jumped off the page—no wonder Brent had been so concerned. She quickly headed for her office. She hadn't gotten halfway there when her pager hummed at her waist. She stopped and read the message. It was from Calvin. He'd obviously called her at the lab and her office. His patience must be growing thin for him to beep her in the building. Moments later, she reached the door that led into Calvin's office.

“Go right in, Dr. McKenna.” His assistant motioned toward Calvin's door.

“Thank you.” Lauren knocked lightly and walked in. “You were looking for me?”

Calvin was on the phone. He pointed at a chair and continued his conversation. “Yes, sir. I'm well aware of what that costs. I think it's far too early to make that determination. Mr. Secretary, my expert just walked in. I'm going to put you on speaker.”

Lauren knew she was going to be put on the spot. She sat up and again scanned the papers she had in her hand. Brent had unknowingly handed her the exact information she needed. Helena had somehow compacted herself, and in the process grown stronger. It was something no scientist had ever seen. This storm was now operating outside the realm of known hurricane behavior.

Calvin pushed a button on his phone.

“Mr. Secretary. I have Dr. Lauren McKenna with me. She's our leading scientist in the atmospheric forecasting unit.”

“Hello, Dr. McKenna. Morris Bradshaw here. I'm familiar with some of your work. Very impressive. Very forward thinking.”

“Why thank you, Secretary Bradshaw.” Lauren had never spoken with the Secretary of Defense before. It was he to whom the DIA ultimately answered.

“Why don't you ask Dr. McKenna what you just asked me?” Calvin nodded in Lauren's direction. “I'm sure she can shed more light on the problem than I can.”

“I'll cut right to the chase, Dr. McKenna. This hurricane, how big is it going to get? And when and where is it going to make landfall?”

Lauren was scanning the latest information as he asked the questions. She knew her answer would shape the military's emergency contingency plans. It was the National Weather Service's job to coordinate with civil disaster preparedness teams. They were the people who issued the warnings and evacuation notices. Her job was to make sure the people and assets of the armed forces were fully aware of any meteorological events that might impact their operations.

“Mr. Secretary, at this point it's a little too early to be specific. The storm is still almost three days from landfall. But the geographic area I'm concerned with would be from Washington D.C. all the way north to Rhode Island. We could see catastrophic winds and ocean conditions between those two points. Once the storm moves ashore, there's the risk of tornadic activity and flooding rain for several hundred miles inland. All military assets in that corridor, in my opinion, are at risk.”

“Jesus! You're serious?”

“Yes, Mr. Secretary. I think we're going to see one of the strongest storms in history come ashore in the next seventy-two hours. It's a very compact, but violent hurricane at this moment. We in atmospheric research have never seen a storm of this magnitude. And frankly, I don't see anything that's going to slow it down.”

“Is Washington, D.C. itself at risk?”

“Not in a strategic sense. We could see some flooding from the storm surge and damage from high winds. But as I'm sure you know, hurricanes quickly lose their energy once they pass over
land. Washington is just far enough inland, and in this case, just far enough south to miss the full fury of Helena.”

“What about Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York?”

“They are at risk. But I'm especially concerned about New York City. If Helena were to come ashore at that precise spot, we'll have an unimaginable disaster on our hands.”

“Dr. McKenna, could you please elaborate.”

“If Helena does what I think she'll do, we could have a seventy-five to ninety foot storm surge wash directly up both the Hudson and East rivers. Everything below the sixth floor in Manhattan will be underwater. Older buildings will simply collapse. Subways would be flooded; the city will stop functioning for weeks or months. We're looking at the possibility of 300 plus mile per hour winds. The low-lying areas of Long Island, into New Jersey, could be scrubbed clean. I won't even try to predict the loss of life and property, sir.”

“Holy mother of God. Calvin. Is this right? Could this happen?”

Calvin looked directly at the phone. “If it's what Dr. McKenna says, then I believe it.”

“Okay. Here's what I'm going to need from your end. I want hourly reports on this hurricane. I'm going to brief the Cabinet and the Joint Chiefs. Any change in the status of this storm and I want to know about it immediately. Calvin, make sure Dr. McKenna has my direct number. Good news or bad, I want it as quickly as you find anything out. Am I clear on this point?”

“Yes, Mr. Secretary.”

“I'll expect to hear from you soon.”

Lauren looked at Calvin as the line went dead.

“I know I might have put you on the spot, Lauren.” Calvin scratched his nose as he searched for the words he was looking for. “I was only asking for an update. Couldn't you have sugar-coated it a little?”

“I did,” Lauren replied evenly. “I'll need to go crunch some numbers. The good news is with
Jonah
we're receiving more data than ever before. This is going to be the most well-documented hurricane in history. Of all the storms I've ever studied, this is the one that we need to understand. The bad news is I don't think this is a freak hurricane. I have a bad feeling that we're seeing a marked shift in the global weather patterns…and super-hurricanes are one of the byproducts.”

“I hope you're wrong.” Calvin absently tapped his pencil on his desk.

“Me, too.” Lauren paused. “I'm having my mother take Abigail and leave Baltimore. They're going to Chicago.”

“You are?” A look of alarm came over him. “You really think this is going to be a catastrophe?”

“Of the highest order. As hard as I search for any hint that Helena is weakening, or turning—all I find is the opposite.”

“Keep me posted.” Calvin jotted down a number from memory. “Here's Bradshaw's direct line. I'd appreciate it if any communication came through me first. But if that's not possible, don't hesitate to call him yourself. Our first priority is to keep the Pentagon up to date.”

“I'll either be in my office or the lab.” Lauren stood to go. She hesitated for a moment. “Any word on the investigation?”

“I'm not at liberty to discuss it at this time.”

Lauren nodded and let herself out of Calvin's office and headed for her own. The sudden shift in his behavior had been obvious, but Lauren had no idea what it meant. She wondered if she herself were under investigation. If there weren't a category five hurricane coming their way, would she be on suspension? A hundred questions flew through her mind as she walked into her office and settled behind her desk. As Brent had promised, the latest data had been downloaded. She logged on and began to sift through the information. The DIA's new weather dedicated
computer was a marvel of speed and efficiency. It processed data at a rate of 3.2 trillion instructions per second, almost thirty times faster than the computer it replaced. With the click of a mouse, Lauren was looking at the latest Doppler images from both
Jonah
, and the NOAA P-3. As before, the high-reflectivity of Helena's eye wall was astounding. Monstrous up and down drafts were at work, both feeding and releasing the tremendous energy of the storm.

She scanned the constant readouts from
Jonah
. The barometric pressure was now down to 26.82 inches. As she clicked back out to the view from the DMSP satellite, she was struck once again by the organized beauty of Helena. With her knowledge of the existing winds and surrounding atmospheric conditions, she could see Helena squeeze in between the high pressure area stalled over Georgia, and a weaker high pressure dome over Nova Scotia. Lauren quickly began to augment the image. First, she added the steering winds. The west to east jet stream was still in place. Acting like wind over a chimney, it allowed Helena to continue to grow. After adjusting for a new set of sea-surface temperature values, Lauren clicked the mouse and sat back while the computer calculated new track information. Moments later, the information blinked to life on her screen. Lauren bit her lip and moved closer. It was the worst of all possibilities. The computer showed the mass of churning clouds continuing to build in strength. There was a slight northerly correction to her current track, but not enough to swing it out into the North Atlantic. Lauren rubbed her arms at a sudden chill, though she didn't know if it was from the air-conditioning or the information staring back at her. She pulled her lab coat tight…in seventy-two hours, Helena would come ashore at New York City. Only by then it would be so powerful, it would be as if a 100 mile wide, F-4 tornado hit the city. While a typical tornado only lasted a few minutes, Helena's winds would lash at the city for hours. To make matters worse, Helena would arrive at the same time as high tide,
with storm surge and wave heights as high as 100 feet. Her dire predictions to Secretary Bradshaw had been on the conservative side. She knew the National Weather Service was looking at basically the same information. The warnings would be going out; people all up and down the East Coast would be alerted. Lauren shook her head in despair. Helena wasn't something you could prepare for—the destruction promised to be of a magnitude no one had ever experienced.

D
onovan Nash made a quick drive through the parking lot and spotted Erin's white Honda. He looked around to make sure he wasn't being observed, then jumped out and affixed a small object underneath her car. It only took him a moment. Relieved no one had spotted him, he drove directly to the main entrance.