Category Five (26 page)

Michael raised up and peered out the front of the Gulfstream. “I'm going to level off at 10,000 feet; it'll save us a little fuel. Once I do, you need to get to the back.”

Lauren nodded that she understood. Neither of them knew what had happened to the rest of the crew. She spoke to Steven. “We're going to stop at 10,000 feet.” She hesitated, then added. “How far is the eye from the coast?”

“Uh, stand by.”

Lauren waited. She could picture him calculating the distance. She doubted he was aware of how critical her question really was.

“The eye is now 330 nautical miles from landfall.”

“How fast is it moving?”

“Last reading was fifteen knots. She's picked up a little more speed in the last two hours.”

Lauren did the math in her head. In five hours, the eye would make its way to the minimum distance for the detonation—with them circling helplessly inside.

Lauren glanced at Michael. “How much fuel do we have left?”

“I'm not sure yet.” Michael glanced at the Flight Management System. “On one engine, down at 10,000 feet, I'm guessing we'll have five, five and a half hours. That's if we haven't sprung a leak somewhere.”

Lauren took a deep breath to calm herself. If they couldn't find a way out of the hurricane, they could all measure the remainder of their lives against the coming nuclear detonation.

“Ahhh,” Michael groaned as he pulled off his oxygen mask. He rubbed the red compression lines on his face. “It's safe to breathe normally. God, it feels good to get that thing off.”

Lauren followed suit and removed hers. The sensation of breathing normally was wonderful.

“Okay.” Michael found his sunglasses and slid them on. “I've got everything under control here. Go to the back—but be careful. I'm hoping the loss of pressurization knocked everyone out.”

Lauren handed him the phone and began to unfasten her seat belt. “This is Steven. He's the one who threaded us through the worst of it.”

“Got it.” Michael gave her a weak smile. “And by the way. You were pretty amazing back there. I don't think we would've survived if you hadn't made that phone call.”

Lauren reached over and kissed him on the cheek. She knew from Donovan what a skilled pilot Michael was. She was betting he had far more to do with their being alive than she did.

“I'll be back as soon as I can.” Lauren slipped out of the cockpit. She steeled herself against what she might find once she was in back.

After the bright sunlight in the cockpit, she had to stop until her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the cabin. Slowly, she began to comprehend the violence that had been inflicted on the jet. The narrow aisle was strewn with computer equipment and other debris. Part of the insulated headliner had broken loose and was hanging from the ceiling. There were exposed wires dangling from above. She was suddenly thankful that there wasn't any electrical power back here. Lauren quickly made her way aft. She pushed aside the last section of insulation. Carl was sitting slack-jawed in a seat, his arms limp at his side. His chest was moving in and out. Lauren turned to find Brent and Randy.

“Dr. McKenna! Back here. I need some help.”

Lauren turned and saw Brent leaning over a body on the floor. She knew it had to be Randy. She carefully stepped over a bundle of wires that stretched across the aisle and went to them.

“Is he..?” Lauren knelt over Randy's inert body.

“I don't know.” Brent had pulled off Randy's mask, then leaned forward to check the pilot's respiration.

Lauren looked up at the wrecked computer rack. There were dozens of small holes in the side of the plane. Sunlight streamed in through the ruptured pressure vessel.

“He's at least breathing.” Brent looked toward the front of the plane. “Did you check Carl?”

“Yes. He's unconscious but alive. Are you hurt?” Lauren turned to Brent, thankful that at least one of her team was alive and talking.

“I'm fine. Are you okay?”

“Uh-oh.” Lauren pointed at the sight of blood starting to creep out from under Randy's body.

“Oh shit!” Brent gathered himself and used his strength to gently lift Randy onto his side. “Can you see where he's bleeding?”

“It's his shoulder.” Lauren wiped away the worst of the blood. She found the small puncture through a rip in his flight suit.

“He had his back to the engine when the gun went off. Then there was a bigger explosion. I managed to get to him and secure a mask so he could breathe. Then I sat here and tried to hold him steady. I was strapped in, but he was thrown all over the place after we went into the storm.”

“Stay here. There's a first aid kit in the front of the plane. I'll be right back.” Lauren hurried as fast as she could to retrieve the kit. As she passed Carl, she noticed his eyes fluttering. He was starting to come around.

“He's starting to wake up!” Lauren yelled back toward Brent.

“Leave him to me.”

Lauren ran and pulled the white and red metal box from its mounting. She was five steps from the cockpit. It only took her a second to stick her head through the door.

“Michael.” She hesitated until he turned towards her. “Randy's hurt. He's bleeding, but still alive. Brent seems to have everything under control. But I did see a bunch of holes in the side of the airplane.”

“I'm not surprised,” Michael said, nodding. “Was that a gunshot we heard?”

“Yes. The bullet went into the engine.”

“That's just great.” Michael shook his head in disgust. “I'm guessing the entire turbine section of the engine came apart. I've lost the connection with the DIA. I think the satellite must be blocked by the storm.”

“I'll be back up to help as soon as I can. My guess is they'll try to re-task the satellite. It can take a while so we'll have to keep trying.”

“As soon as you can, I need you to give both wings a careful check for fuel leaks.”

Lauren held up the first-aid-kit. “I'll do that right after we take care of Randy.”

Michael nodded. “Don't let me keep you.”

“Any word from Donovan?” Lauren asked.

“Nothing yet.” Michael shook his head. “But I'd sure hate to be in his way right about now.”

D
onovan felt the reassuring thump as the landing gear swung up into the belly of the
da Vinci
. Only 200 feet above the ground, he banked the Gulfstream sharply to the east, and watched as the Dulles terminal building flashed beneath them. He ignored the standard airspace speed limits and allowed the powerful jet to accelerate to 300 knots.

Nicolas sat beside him in the copilot's seat, an Eco-Watch cap pulled down low over his shaved head. He instantly carried out each of Donovan's commands. Strapped in the jump-seat, Frank Moretti had his toothpick working feverishly in his mouth. Donovan knew the chief of maintenance hated to fly, yet Frank hadn't said a word as he'd climbed aboard. The ground vanished as they hurtled into the clouds. Donovan ignored the light turbulence as they thundered eastward.

“Any word yet?” Donovan asked, refusing to pull the power back on the twin Rolls Royce engines. A feeling of dread had been lodged in his chest since the DIA chopper had lifted off. It had only taken them minutes to cover the distance from the District to the waiting Eco-Watch Gulfstream. Nicolas and Frank had the airplane ready and they'd bolted off the ground in record time. Sitting alone in the back of the speeding jet was Erin. He'd offered to leave her behind, but she'd staunchly refused. Donovan hadn't had time to argue with her. At least he didn't have to worry about what she was up to. For all intents and purposes, she was in his protective custody.

“Nothing yet.” Frank had the satellite phone receiver to his ear, getting updates from DIA headquarters.

Nicolas subtly pointed to the overheated engines. The Turbine Gas Temperature gauges were bouncing near the red line.

“I see it.” Donovan knew Nicolas was just doing his job. “They'll live.”

“Just so you know.” Nicolas nodded, then turned to Frank. “Can you get us the latest latitude and longitude of the eye? I need to plug it into the FMS.”

“It's now…” Frank paused as he listened. “North 36 25.4. West 069 04.0.”

“Got it.” Nicolas expertly typed on the small keypad, then turned to Donovan. “There's the new course, sir. We're 369 nautical miles away. At this speed we'll be there in less than forty-five minutes.”

“Thanks.” Donovan banked the Gulfstream to the new heading. He prayed Michael had enough airplane left to get the damaged jet into the eye of the hurricane. Michael was as good as they came, but structural damage was something that could reach out and kill even the best pilot.

“THEY MADE IT!” Frank cried out. “THEY'RE IN THE EYE!”

A fraction of tension left Donovan's body. Against improbable odds, Michael had somehow made it to relative safety. Donovan's emotions threatened to push to the surface. A lump formed in his throat and his eyes burned with relief.

“Frank, find out how high the hurricane goes. We're going to have to drop in through the roof of the storm. The more we know, the faster we'll get there.”

Donovan listened as Frank followed his orders. He knew from Frank that Michael had filled the Gulfstream with fuel before they'd left this morning. The more fuel, the more time they had to find a solution.

“I can't raise Michael yet,” Nicolas reported. “I'll try again in five minutes after we're higher.”

“DIA says the last reports from Michael were that he had to go to 45,000 to clear the tops.”

Donovan gave Nicolas a sideways glance.

“Washington Center,” Nicolas transmitted to air traffic control. “Eco-Watch 02 requests flight level 450.”

“Roger Eco-Watch 02. You're cleared to flight level 450 and you're free to navigate at will.”

“Roger, Washington,” Nicolas replied. “We'd like the hand-off to New York as soon as possible. Do you know if they're talking to Eco-Watch 01?”

“I'll have that hand-off in about six minutes. As far as I know, they've lost radio contact with 01.”

“Roger,” Nicolas said.

Donovan looked over at the other two men in the cockpit. He knew they shared his same thoughts. Each of them would do whatever it took to bring the
Galileo
home.

“You've got the plane, Nicolas.” Donovan threw off his harness. “I'm going to the back for a little bit. Let me know if anything changes.”

Donovan squeezed past Frank and made his way to where Erin sat. She was sitting at one of the scientific workstations, looking out the window at the gray emptiness. She turned and looked up at him. He saw the concern in her eyes.

“Did we hear yet?” she asked, anxiously.

Donovan nodded, “They made it to the eye.”

“Oh thank God.” Erin quickly crossed herself. “I've been sitting back here terrified that we'd turn around, that if the plane slowed down it would mean they didn't survive.”

“I know the feeling.” Donovan sat down at the station across from her. “I need to ask you something.”

“What?” Erin replied cautiously; her guard went up.

“How much did you tell the DIA this morning?” He looked at her with a serious expression. “How much do they know?”

“You mean about you. Our secret?”

Donovan nodded.

“Nothing. We had a deal, remember?”

“So no one at the DIA knows much more than they did yesterday?”

“No.”

“Is Lauren McKenna the person who's been passing you information?” Donovan needed to hear it from Erin firsthand.

Erin's eyes fluttered as she shook her head. “No. Not at all. Why would you think that?”

“But…” At this moment, Donovan wasn't sure of anything. “You visited her yesterday.”

“So what?” Erin replied, cautiously. “How do you know about that?”

“Never mind. So it's not Lauren who gave you the classified files?”

Erin shook her head.

“Why did you go see her?”

“Insurance. I wasn't sure I could trust you—I was trying to hedge my bets. If you bailed on me, I was still going to write my story and I asked her for her cooperation.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me to get lost.”

“I told you we had a deal.” Donovan glared at her, then reached up and snatched the satellite phone mounted on the wall. It worked on a separate line from the one in the cockpit. Quickly, he secured a connection. The phone was answered on the first ring.

“William, it's me.”

“Good to hear your voice, son. Where are you?”

“I'm in the
da Vinci
. We're headed out to rendezvous with Michael. What do you have from that end?”

“Nothing that you don't know. I'm headed out to the airport
shortly. I can't sit here and wait. I'll feel better if I can be right there in Operations.”

“I understand. We'll be in constant contact with Peggy. I could use a favor, though.”

“Name it.”

“Can you talk to the Navy, or the Coast Guard? Find out how long it would take a ship to reach the eye…if they even can? If Michael has to ditch.”

“Understood.” William's voice grew quieter. “I had to tell the President who you really are this morning. It was the only way to make him understand you'd be an unlikely spy. He promised me he'd run some damage control. But we probably owe him.”

Donovan felt a small smile come to his lips. William had done what it took to get the job done.

“The good part,” William continued, “is right now, I've got his full attention. Which under the circumstances, might be advantageous.”

“You got me out of there, that's what mattered most.” Donovan saw they'd broken free of the murky gray clouds. The
da Vinci
climbed high into the rarefied atmosphere.