Category Five (38 page)

“I'm okay,” he replied with a clenched jaw. “Though between airplanes, submarines, boats, and helicopters…I'm a little worn out.”

“I think we all deserve a nice long rest,” Donovan announced.

“Time off with pay?” Michael grinned, then motioned toward Lauren. “So…you two finally get it figured out?”

“Yes.” Lauren smiled up at Donovan. “In fact, isn't there something you wanted to ask Michael?”

Donovan ceremoniously cleared his throat. “So, Michael. I was wondering…would you be the best man at my wedding?”

“Of course.” Michael gave them both a wide smile. “Unless it interferes with my paid leave.”

“I hate to break this up, but the helicopter is fueled and ready to go,” Captain Scott interrupted.

“Randy,” Donovan asked, “You got enough in you for one more helicopter ride?”

“Where to now?” Randy rolled his tired eyes.

“How about home?” Donovan was relieved to see Randy nod his approval.

“Yes, sir. Home sounds good.”

D
onovan breathed a silent sigh of relief as the Eco-Watch facility came into view. The Coast Guard pilot touched down gently on the concrete ramp. Donovan felt like he'd been gone for a very long time. Michael jumped out and ran across the ramp toward where Susan waited. Their embrace warmed Donovan's heart. Frank and others were quickly there to assist Randy into the waiting ambulance.

Brent had said his good-byes in the helicopter and quickly dashed off to a waiting car sent by the DIA.

“You son of a gun!” Frank grinned and slapped Donovan on the shoulder. “You pulled it off.”

Donovan returned the smile, then caught sight of William walking toward the helicopter. He knew there would never be words to thank his old friend for all he'd done. Donovan followed Lauren out of the chopper. He stopped and stretched his frame from the two and half hour flight.

“Welcome back, son.” William reached out his hand.

“It's good to be home.” Donovan returned the handshake.

“You remember Lauren?” Donovan pulled away from William, and put his arm around her shoulders.

“Of course,” William said, smiling.

“Hello, William,” Lauren kissed the aging statesman on the cheek. “Donovan told me a great deal about you in the last few hours.”

“All lies, I'm sure.”

“Who in the hell do you know in the Russian government?” Donovan asked with great amazement. “You never cease to astound me.”

“I think I called in every favor I had. After all the dust settles, I'll be working for free for the next ten years.”

“Any word on the C-17 crew? There was an injured man; he's a Navy SEAL.” Donovan voiced his concern about Buck and the others as they moved away from the helicopter.

“The crew is fine, and Lieutenant Buckley will live,” William explained. “He suffered a broken collarbone, some fractured ribs, and a punctured lung. He's in a Navy Hospital in Norfolk.”

“Where's Erin?” Donovan whispered. He had no idea what havoc she might have brought down on him since he'd left her.

“Donovan Nash! You rascal you!”

Donovan turned as Susan ran over and threw her arms around him. He saw Michael hold out his hands as if he were helpless to stop her.

“You two,” she whispered as she hugged him. “When are you guys going to quit doing this to me?”

“Probably never,” Donovan lied. He knew his days at Eco-Watch were over.

“You're probably right.” Susan pulled away, then turned toward Lauren. “I'm Susan. Michael just told me. I'm so happy for you two.”

“Thank you,” Lauren said. “I never thought I'd get a marriage proposal on a Russian submarine.”

“Take it where you can get it,” Susan laughed, then reached for and held Michael's hand tightly. “I hate to hug and run, but I'm taking my husband home. He won't be in for a few days?”

“Make it a week,” Donovan laughed. “He sank his airplane, and we're not sure we're going to let him fly the only one we have left.”

Michael shrugged as Susan led him away. “I was just following orders.”

Donovan, Lauren, and William walked toward the hangar. Donovan felt a little sad at the thought of the
Galileo
resting on the bottom of the ocean. One by one, the employees on duty came by and shook his hand and offered words of congratulation. He received a huge hug from Peggy, who he thought was going to burst into tears.

Donovan looked around and finally asked. “Where's the other airplane?”

“They called just before you landed.” Peggy dabbed at her moist eyes. “The
da Vinci
will be on the ramp any minute now.”

“There was a trip.” William added. “Government business.”

No sooner had William spoken than the high-pitched whine of a Gulfstream invaded Donovan's ears. The lone remaining Eco-Watch jet rounded the corner and taxied onto the ramp. It gave the departing Coast Guard helicopter a wide berth and rolled to a stop in front of the open hangar. The door swung down and Nicolas stepped aside to let out a passenger.

With an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach, Donovan saw Erin Walker start down the stairs. She smiled and waved as she saw the three of them. Donovan didn't return the greeting. A moment later, another person materialized in the doorway of the Gulfstream. Donovan was stunned as he recognized Lauren's mother, and in her arms was a little girl. Abigail was dressed in a pink dress, with a matching headband. Donovan's vision clouded as he laid eyes on his daughter for the first time.

“Hello, Donovan.” Erin stood to one side so as not to block his view. “I brought you a present. Well, actually it was William who made it happen…but I managed to find them. Lauren's mother is a resourceful woman. She had taken Abigail from Newark to La Guardia. From there, they managed to get on a flight to Buffalo. It's where I found them.”

“How did you…?” Donovan stumbled over his words. “I can't…”

“I'm an investigative reporter,” Erin held out her hands. “It's what I do.”

Lauren rushed to the foot of the stairs, hugged her mother, then took Abigail in her arms, smothering her with tiny kisses.

Donovan quickly went to Lauren's side.

“Look who I have here,” Lauren cooed.

Donovan could plainly see how much Abigail resembled him. It was as if she'd stolen her looks from his own baby pictures. He reached out, hoping Lauren would let him hold his daughter. Without hesitation, Lauren gently placed Abigail in his arms. Donovan's throat constricted as he marveled at every small detail: her large blue eyes, her tiny hands, and flawless skin. He breathed in the smell of her as he cradled her in his arms.

“She's perfect.” Donovan looked up into Lauren's radiant face.

Without warning, Abigail started to fuss. Lauren instinctively reached out, but Donovan held his daughter protectively. He kissed her on the cheek and Abigail quieted almost immediately.

“Take your family home. You deserve a break.” William looked in the direction of Lauren's mother. “Besides, you've lost your baby-sitter. Lauren's mother and I are going out to dinner.”

Donovan shook his head. “There's so much to do right now.”

“Not really. With Erin's help, the press has been dealt with. Your name won't be mentioned. She and I decided we'd let the military have the spotlight on this one. We'll call it our return favor to the President. I've already spoken with the insurance company, and they've agreed to replace the
Galileo
. But we can talk about all of that next week.” William lowered his voice. “I've had my staff out at your country house. It's been cleaned, stocked with food, and I also took the liberty of having everything Abigail might need sent out and set up. I thought the three of you might like to get away…have a little privacy.”

“Thank you.” Lauren slipped her arm inside Donovan's. “Shall we then?”

“I guess it's settled. We'll be on our way.” Donovan looked down at his daughter, then up at Lauren. “We do have some lost time to make up for.”

“Donovan…” Erin motioned him aside. She waited until she had his full attention. She kept her voice low so as not to be overheard. “As promised, you gave me the front page story of the decade. The destruction of hurricane Helena is all anyone can talk about. I was there; I saw the explosion from the C-17. I'll never be able to thank you for that…except to promise you something.”

“What's that?”

“You know that other story I was working on. The one about someone named Huntington. It turned into a dead end.”

“Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“The story will never see the light of day. I promise. And please, keep doing what you do best—don't ever leave Eco-Watch. I've said enough. Now go take care of your family.”

Donovan looked over his shoulder at Lauren, then down at his daughter. “That I will.”

If you enjoyed
Category Five,
you should also enjoy

By
Philip Donlay

An excerpt from
Zero Separation
follows this page.

Three miles straight down were the men he'd come to kill. He stood in the open door of the aircraft as the one-hundred-fifty-mile-an-hour slipstream buffeted him, trying to pull him closer to the emptiness that lay beyond. It was a moonless night and there was nothing below him but the darkness of the windswept desert.

Running without lights, the Lockheed C-130 was flying within a very specific set of coordinates over northern Iraq. Temporary markings on the four-engine Hercules read Royal Air Force; the crew wore stolen RAF uniforms and used a valid British call sign. The deception had been months in the making. To the outside world, the aircraft would appear to be flying a routine night-training exercise. Through his headset he heard the pilot tell him they were inside fifteen seconds. Thrill of the hunt. His heart rate accelerated. He could feel it pound in his temples.

When the jump light flashed green, he stepped out of the plane. He arched his back and stretched his arms as he dropped. The wind buffeted his body as he accelerated into a free fall toward the desert floor below. Searching the ground through his night-vision goggles, he finally located the pinprick of light that marked his target. Hurtling earthward, he maneuvered to land far enough away so that no one on the ground would detect his arrival. At the last possible second, he pulled the ripcord and waited for the reassuring jolt that told him his chute had opened. The canopy filled, and as he descended he expertly manipulated the risers until his feet lightly touched the sand. Quickly he worked to shed his harness and then he gathered the folds of his parachute and stuffed the material into a black duffel.

He drew his silenced pistol and started toward his objective. Guided by night-vision goggles, he stayed low, favoring his right hip as he limped his way across the dunes. Inwardly, he cursed the pain from the old injury, but relentlessly pushed himself forward. As he closed in on his target, he flipped up his infrared goggles and waited for his eyes to adapt to the harsh light given off from a powerful lantern. Once his vision had adjusted, he rapidly located all four of the men he'd expected to find. Three were digging a large hole in the sand, and the remaining man was standing above, watching. Quietly, he moved in and positioned himself behind their truck. All four wore body armor, goggles, and each carried a side-arm. He recognized the man watching, he was a friend and compatriot, a deep cover agent who'd worked for months to learn the location of this cache. He also knew the three men digging were former American soldiers, each an exemplary fighter and a highly trained killer. They'd been recruited by a private security firm after their enlistments were up, but their actions tonight marked them as nothing more than mercenaries drawn by greed.

He moved silently alongside the truck and took a quick look inside the bed. He felt a rush of anticipation at being in such close proximity to his prize. Four common cylinders—each was a dirty gray color, four feet in length, a foot in diameter, with a simple valve screwed into the rounded end. They looked like nothing more than the common high-pressure acetylene tanks used by welders. But these cylinders had been modified to carry something besides acetylene, something extraordinarily lethal. The intelligence he'd gathered said there should be two more, for a total of six.

“You're about to have company.” The voice sounded in his ear-piece. “The second half of tonight's party is coming fast from the south—they're four minutes out.”

He acknowledged the warning and exhaled slowly to calm his racing heartbeat. Leading with his pistol, he stepped around the truck and fired at the closest man. Body armor necessitated head shots and the first man dropped instantly, followed by the second. The third managed to draw his weapon before his head snapped
backward from a single slug and he collapsed. The last man, the watcher, frantically ripped away his goggles to identify himself.

“Don't shoot! It's me!”

“Relax,” he said as he lowered his pistol.

“My God, like some sort of ghost you silently materialize out of nowhere.”

“The others are coming,” he said. “How much money are they bringing?”

“The price was set at one hundred and fifty thousand U.S. dollars. How close are they?”

“We have time. What of the informant who told you of this place?”

“Dead.”

“Will anyone be able to connect him to tonight's events?”

“Doubtful. There are many bodies in Iraq. One more will mean nothing.”

“You're right.” He raised the pistol and fired twice, the slugs expertly placed for a quick and painless death. His comrade, a confused expression etched on his face, buckled at the knees and fell to the ground.