Category Five (24 page)

“They say be ready for a hard turn to the left.” Lauren was amazed at how calm Michael was. “It'll be a thirty degree turn.”

“This thing is flying like a tank,” Michael remarked. “I have a bad feeling the tail was damaged when the engine let go.”

“Donovan always told me this airplane was the best flying machine ever built.” Lauren leaned forward until she made eye contact with Michael. “Was he telling me the truth?”

“Yes.” Michael nodded and gave her a wink. “She'll get us where we need to go.”

“Start the turn…Now!” Steven ordered. “Once you roll out,
you'll have a narrow corridor for almost thirty miles. After that, we're going to have to punch through a narrow band of thunderstorms. If you can stay above 35,000 feet, you should miss the worst of it.”

“We're at 34,000 feet right now,” Lauren reported.

“I'm doing the best I can, Dr. McKenna,” Steven said evenly. “You should see the ugly weather you're missing. By the way, I sent out the call. In a few minutes the entire place is going to know you need help. I suspect Calvin should be here anytime now. You're doing great.”

“Thanks.” Lauren held on tight as the Gulfstream plowed into an area of turbulence. The airplane rose, then slammed down hard. Michael battled the forces as a loud blast of precipitation pelted the windscreen. A queasy sensation rocked Lauren's stomach; it was the first grip of real sustained fear she'd felt. She couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like if the airplane came apart. An icy shiver raised the flesh on her skin. Even if they made it to the eye…then what? Would they just circle until the sky turned as bright as the sun and they were vaporized by the bomb? Did they even have enough fuel to wait out the blast, or would they die in the water? Lauren gripped the seat and tried to keep the phone to her ear as the jet was battered by another wave of turbulence. For the second time in three days, Lauren wondered if she'd live to see her daughter again.

D
onovan was in a nearly colorless room. White walls, no windows. A solid black table sat between him and special agent Dixon. The questioning, so far, had been civil and polite.

“Mr. Nash.” Dixon rubbed his chin as he thought. “Who did you give Dr. McKenna's computer to once you'd made the swap?”

Donovan looked puzzled.

“We know about you and Kenneth Browning,” Dixon said as a matter of fact.

“I have no idea what you're talking about. Who is Kenneth Browning?”

“One of the people you killed in Bermuda.” Dixon leaned back as if he'd just moved a crucial chess piece into position.

“I didn't kill anyone. Has it occurred to you that I wasn't even scheduled to be in Bermuda? Do your notes explain that I was home when the call came to make the trip?”

The look of superiority was instantly erased from Dixon's face.

“You know what?” Donovan hoped he could deliver a verbal blow that would end this once and for all. “I would think your people could have put the pieces together a little better. How could I have organized anything in Bermuda when it was a scheduled Air Force trip? They had a mechanical problem and I went in their place. Explain how I engineered all this when I wasn't supposed to be there?”

“You tell me.” Dixon regained a trace of his smirk.

“It's because I didn't. I couldn't have.”

Dixon's smirk evaporated. “I think you swapped the computer, then saved Dr. McKenna to throw us off the track.”

“You're fishing.” Donovan sat back and folded his arms in front of him. “But I can't imagine it would take very much to throw you off track.”

“Let's go back eleven months to your unscheduled trip to Alaska.”

“Now you're asking if I arranged for a Russian submarine to catch fire, so I could save half their crew, then divert to Russian soil?”

“You know what I mean,” Dixon said, angrily.

“No, I don't know what you mean. Can you hear yourself? Do you even listen to your own questions? They don't make any
sense at all.” Donovan was beginning to get a bad feeling that this was just the first part in an interrogation that was designed to go on for many more hours.

“Let's go back and review certain events in Russia. Why didn't you jettison all of the classified equipment before landing on Russian soil?”

Donovan was about to answer when the door behind Dixon flew open. A man barged into the room and looked straight at Donovan. He was nattily dressed with suspenders and slicked back hair.

“Nash. You're with me!”

Donovan didn't think twice. This was his chance to escape.

“Director Reynolds.” Dixon quickly got to his feet. “I was just getting started here.”

“No. You're just finishing. I want Mr. Nash in my office. Mr. Nash, follow me.”

Donovan didn't bother to look at Dixon as he breezed into the hallway. “You're the person Lauren called this morning, aren't you?”

“Don't say a thing until we're in my office,” Calvin said, abruptly. He stayed two steps ahead of Donovan as he strode down the corridor.

Donovan wasn't sure what was going on, but Director Reynolds was obviously far higher up the food chain than agent Dixon. Was this the DIA's version of good cop, bad cop? Though he decided it might be more like dumb cop, smart cop. Donovan wished he could make one phone call and at least let William know where he was.

“In here.” Calvin pointed at an open door. He moved aside and let Donovan go in front of him. “Take a seat in my office; I'll be right there.”

Donovan walked past the secretary's desk and into the moderately sized room. Out the rain-streaked window, he could
see the Potomac River, and just beyond was Washington National Airport.

“Donovan?”

He turned and found Erin Walker seated in a chair. Her arms were folded defensively in front of her. There was an unsettled, almost frightened expression on her face.

“I trust you two know each other.” Calvin blew into the room and allowed the door to slam behind him.

“We've met.” Donovan stood where he was, not at all sure where this was going.

“Have a seat next to Ms. Walker.” Calvin threw a folder down on his desk, then turned to face them, putting his weight against the edge of his desk.

Donovan settled into the chair and folded his hands in his lap. He hated the feeling of being surrounded by government officials. It brought back an avalanche of unwanted images from Costa Rica—helpless feelings, as politically blinded men grappled with Meredith's kidnapping.

“I'm not a very happy man this morning. I've got a big problem, and you two seem to be in the middle of it.” Reynolds cleared his throat, then fixed his angry eyes on Donovan. “Mr. Nash. You've been at the heart of an investigation we've had underway for almost eleven months. Your presence in Bermuda set off a chain of events that made it necessary to bring you in for questioning. I'm certain you're aware of our concerns.”

Donovan nodded. He'd seen his wallet, cell phone, and key ring on Reynolds' desk. Next to him, Erin was sitting rigid in her seat. Her unblinking eyes were fixed on Reynolds. He wondered what she'd told him.

“Why is Ms. Walker here?” Donovan asked.

“We connected her to a member of our staff. We searched her apartment this morning and found photographs and files pertaining to both Eco-Watch, and to the DIA. The last thing that's going to happen is for this investigation to be played out in the Washington Post before I can deal with it internally.”

A phone rang behind Reynolds. He ignored it.

“My story has nothing to do with anything concerning you,” Erin protested weakly.

“What I want right now, from both of you, is total cooperation. You each seem to have pieces of this puzzle and you're not leaving until I know everything.” Reynolds turned around, visibly annoyed at the ringing phone. He picked up the offending cell phone and tossed it to Donovan.

“Answer that damn thing!” Reynolds snapped. “It's been going off all morning.”

“Hello.” Donovan had caught it cleanly.

“Where in the hell are you!” William's relief was clearly evident.

“I'm sitting in DIA headquarters. I'm with Director Reynolds.”

“There's a problem. It's the
Galileo
. Michael's in trouble.”

A jolt of fear shot through Donovan. “What happened?”

“The FAA called Eco-Watch. They in turn called me. Michael is out over the hurricane and he's had an engine failure.”

“Oh, God, no.” Besides Michael and the others…Lauren was on the flight.

“I'll be there as fast as I can.”

“You're not going anywhere!” Reynolds barked. “Now get off the phone.”

“William,” Donovan exhaled heavily, “Director Reynolds says I can't leave. Do whatever you have to do to fix this. Anything.”

“Give me five minutes,” William said, then hung up.

“Now as I was saying.” Reynolds acted as if he were collecting his thoughts. “As far as I'm concerned, you two are in substantial trouble.”

“Director Reynolds.” Donovan gathered himself up and stood. “As much as I'd love to stand here and debate what is obviously an internal DIA problem, I can't. I'm leaving. An Eco-Watch plane is in trouble. We both have people aboard who need our help.”

“What kind of trouble?” Reynolds' tone softened.

“All I know is what I've just told you. I don't have any more information than that, which is why I have to go.”

“I don't know what you think you can do, but you're not leaving.”

“Look. I've had about enough of your political posturing.” Donovan fought his rising emotions. He had to get out of here. He leveled an icy glare at Reynolds. “I've done nothing and I doubt if Ms. Walker has done anything either. Charge us or let us go.”

“Excuse me, Director?” The door had opened and Reynolds's secretary had stuck her head into the room.

“I said I didn't want to be disturbed!”

“You have a priority-one call from the White House,” she said, and immediately shrunk from the doorway.

Reynolds turned and snatched the phone from its cradle. “Director Reynolds. Of course I'll hold.” Reynolds stared wide-eyed at Donovan. “Yes, Mr. President.”

Donovan turned and gave Erin a reassuring nod. He knew this call was William's doing.

“Yes, sir, he's with me now. I understand. I'll do everything I can, sir. Thank you sir.”

Reynolds reverently replaced the phone and rubbed his eyes with both hands.

Donovan reached to help Erin to her feet. Reynolds had just gotten an earful from the President of the United States. It would take him a second to recover.

“Let's go,” he whispered. Erin took his hand when the secretary opened the door again.

“There's an emergency in Operations! They need you right away, sir!”

“Nash, you're free to go. So are you, Ms. Walker.”

“I'll want a helicopter ready as quickly as possible.” Donovan turned to the secretary. “Do you know if the emergency is with regard to an Eco-Watch flight?”

“Yes. They're talking to them right now.”

“May I come with you?” Donovan looked expectantly at Reynolds. He knew the answer would be yes.

“Follow me.” Reynolds nodded and handed Donovan his wallet and keys.

Donovan's heart was pounding as Reynolds led them to a heavy metal door posted with a dozen security warnings. Someone threw it open as they approached. Within seconds, Donovan was standing behind a console with a large screen in front of him. It took him a moment to understand what he was looking at. To his left, a man seated directly in front of the composite image began to speak.

“Okay, now. You're about to make another turn. This one is going to be to the right. Let's make it fifteen degrees. You'll be on that heading for ten miles. This is going to be the first area of weather you're going to penetrate. It's a narrow band, only six miles across. Hopefully, it won't be too bad.”

“We understand,” Lauren's voice came from an overhead speaker. “Just tell us when to start the turn.”

A knot formed in Donovan's stomach. Where were Michael and Randy? Why was Lauren relaying information? Donovan could tell from the sound of her voice that she had her oxygen mask on. He focused on the screen until he found the tiny infrared image that was the
Galileo
. It was surrounded by massive thunderstorms. He could see the course the Gulfstream was trying to fly.

“I need to know what in the hell is going on!” Reynolds bellowed as he squinted at the screen.

“We're trying to thread them through the storms to get to the safety of the eye,” Steven said without looking up. “They've lost an engine and also their pressurization.”

“How far have they descended?” Donovan leaned forward and put a hand on the back of Steven's chair. “Have they said anything about injuries?”

“At last report, they were down below 30,000 feet. I have no idea about the people on board. Dr. McKenna called us directly on this line.”

“Can I talk to them? I'm with Eco-Watch,” Donovan said.

Steven turned to look at Reynolds, who nodded.

“Here you go.” Steven handed him a telephone handset. “You're on speaker, and they need to turn in a minute and a half.”

“Lauren.” Donovan's throat threatened to close off. “Lauren, it's Donovan. Are you all right?”

“Donovan! So far we're fine. But the airplane is really messed up.”

Donovan winced at the fear in Lauren's voice. “Can I talk to Michael?”

“Hang on,” Lauren replied.

Donovan watched the second hand creep around a large chronograph across the room. He felt as if events were hurtling past at an incredible rate, but the slowly dragging clock told him otherwise.