Category Five (28 page)

Carl slumped in his seat, a look of resignation coming over his face.

“I need to get back to the cockpit. Michael wanted us to check for fuel leaks. Then maybe we should clear an aisle. Get all this mess off to one side.”

“You got it,” Brent replied quickly.

“Everything back here is dead. Does the cockpit have power?” Brent asked cautiously.

“The cockpit is fine. Michael told me when the airplane is down to one generator we don't have any power to the cabin.”

“Makes sense.”

“Check on him every so often.” Lauren pulled a blanket up over Randy's shoulder. She stood and looked at her blood-covered hands, then wiped them on her pants. “I'll be back in a minute.”

Carefully, Lauren threaded her way back up to the front of the plane. She found herself hoping that Michael had heard from Donovan. Lauren glanced at her watch. They were down to a little over four hours possible flight time. She knew at some point she needed to share what she knew with Michael. Lauren hated the thought, and tried to put herself in their position. Would she want to know? Would it crush everyone's will to survive, would they deflate and crumble under the certain knowledge that they were all going to die?

Lauren stopped under the weight of her thoughts and tried to collect herself. She clenched her fists, angry at being the only one on board who knew what was to come. Her anger turned to fear as she thought of Abigail. For all she knew, her daughter and mother were still at the Newark airport, virtually ground-zero for Helena's fury. She briefly wondered if they'd halt the bombing with them trapped in the eye. Then she thought of the cataclysmic damage Helena would inflict—and knew the answer was no. Five people didn't warrant the loss of tens of thousands; the White House would reach the same conclusion. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then slipped into the cockpit.

“I'm glad you're back.” Michael turned as she entered. His eyes grew wide at the sight of blood. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine.” Lauren maneuvered herself into the copilot's seat. “It's not mine. It's Randy's. I managed to bandage his wound. But he took a blow to the head. He might be out for a while.”

Michael nodded, grimly. “How about the others?”

“They're as good as can be expected. Carl has been immobilized and Brent is checking for fuel leaks.” Lauren looked out at the wall of weather surrounding them. The Gulfstream was in a shallow bank to the left.

“I know. It's pretty weird isn't it?” Michael motioned to the eye wall. “We're just going in a circle, like a mouse trapped in a bucket.”

Lauren was about to answer when Michael held up a finger, then reached over and put the VHF radio on speaker. Donovan's voice filled the cockpit. “Michael. We need to talk.”

“I'm all ears,” Michael replied.

“They're here?” Lauren felt a rush of warmth at the sound of Donovan's voice.

Michael nodded, “He's right behind us. We're about to learn what our options are.”

“I've got bad news, buddy,” Donovan started, then hesitated. “We all agree you can't risk going back into the hurricane. Your tail-section is pretty chewed up. Frank doesn't know how it's worked this long. So go easy on the thing.”

“And the good news is..…?” Michael gave Lauren a grim look as he waited for Donovan's response.

“The good news is we still have lots of time. We don't see any fuel leaking, so you're in good shape there.”

Lauren looked at her watch. An empty hollow formed in the pit of her stomach. She fought the urge to be sick.

“I think the best bet for now is to get a Coast Guard plane out here, or even the Navy. I'm thinking they could drop an inflatable boat of some kind. At least it would be more seaworthy than the rafts on the Gulfstream. You can stay safely in the eye until a ship can get out here to pick you up.”

Lauren tried to find her voice but couldn't. She reached out for Michael's hand.

“What is it?” Michael said as he saw her distraught expression.

“I…” Lauren choked on her words. “I need to tell you both something.”

“Donovan, hang on for a second,” Michael said, quickly, then took her hand. “Lauren. What's going on?”

Lauren fumbled with the microphone as she brought it to her mouth.

“Donovan?” Lauren said in a hushed voice. “Michael… I need to share something with you both. Before we all get too carried away here.”

“What's going on?” Donovan's alarmed voice poured through the speaker.

“In…” she nervously glanced at her watch again, “in about four hours, the Air Force is going to detonate a hydrogen bomb in Helena's eye.”

Lauren saw the crush of defeat as her words registered with Michael. He closed his eyes and put his head back, the color draining from his face.

“They're what!” Donovan said, incredulously. “You can't be serious. Who in the hell dreamed up something like that?”

“I did.” Lauren whispered. “A long time ago.” She was overwhelmed with guilt.

“You've known all along?” Michael whispered.

“Yes. This mission is designed to give the B-1 bomber the most accurate targeting information.”

“Lauren…Michael. Someone say something.” Donovan's voice was frantic. “Who do I need to reach to get them to call this off?”

Lauren sniffed and felt the burn of tears in her eyes. “Donovan, they won't. This hurricane is going to hit New York City with unimaginable power. Tens of thousands of people will die. The devastation is off the economic scale. They won't stop their plan for us.”

“We'll see about that,” Donovan said, defiantly.

“So pretty much, we're toast.” Michael released her hand.
“Even if we ditch and get out of this thing. Nothing can save us from the blast.”

Lauren shook her head.

“Donovan,” Michael pushed the transmit button. “I don't know about you. But I'm for flying this damn thing back out the way we came. I'd rather risk that than sit here waiting to be vaporized.”

“Stand by, Michael. Frank and I are talking about it.”

“Talk all you want. But I'm not going to wait here.”

“Just hang on a minute,” Donovan urged. “There might be other options.”

“Like what?” Michael replied.

“Michael,” Donovan's voice intruded. “Are you still linked up with DIA headquarters on the satellite phone?”

“No. We lost them as we descended. There's too much storm interference.”

“Okay. Ours isn't working either. I want you to stay put for now. I need to talk to some people. All I want is for you to stay right here. Promise me you won't try to fly out of the storm by yourself.”

“I'll wait for a little while,” Michael replied. “What are you going to do?”

“One of several things. I don't have time to explain it all right now. We need to get back on top and make some calls. But for now I need you hang in there, buddy.”

“We will.”

“And Lauren…” Donovan's voice broke as he spoke.

“Yes.”

“I'm sorry about this morning. I was wrong. Perhaps I've been wrong about a great many things. When we get home, I'd like it if we could sit down and talk. There are things to be said. Would that be all right with you?”

“I'd like that.” A tear rolled down her cheek.

“It's a date then. We're out of here.” Donovan paused. “And Michael…if it comes to your trying to fly your way out of the hurricane, you won't have to do it alone. I'll come back and lead the way.”

Lauren looked out the side window, and for the first time saw the other Gulfstream. It was a beautiful sight. The sleek jet was picking up speed as it passed them only fifty feet away. In the pilot's seat, she could just make out the silhouette of Donovan as he waved. She waved back and wondered if he could see her. She and Michael sat silently and watched as Donovan quickly climbed away from them. Lauren thought of Abigail. She knew in her heart that before it was too late, she'd have to tell Donovan about his daughter. He could very well end up being her only living parent.

“Dr. McKenna. Did you see the other plane?” Brent shouted from the passageway behind her. “Are they here to help us?”

“Do they know?” Michael asked at the sound of Brent's voice.

“No, not yet.” Lauren shook her head. “I guess it's time, though.”

Michael nodded, “I'll wait up here for you.”

“They're leaving!” Brent stuck his head into the cockpit. “What's going on?”

“I'm coming back there.” Lauren looked up into his young face as she slid out of the seat. “There are some things you need to know.”

D
onovan gripped the controls of the Gulfstream as they spiraled up through the eye of the hurricane. The cockpit had been deathly silent since Lauren's emotional disclosure. Donovan's body felt leaden and his limbs seemed unattached to his body. Inside, he was reeling between anger and terror. He'd heard of plans back in the 60s to try to dissipate a hurricane with
an atomic bomb, but the idea had been shelved. What did Lauren mean it was her idea? How could this be happening? He set his jaw and kept the airplane climbing toward the circle of blue sky above them.

“If you come back and help them fly out of the hurricane,” Nicolas looked at Donovan, “Count me in.”

“I appreciate that.” Donovan saw the determination on his copilot's face. “I'm hoping it won't come to that, but if it does, we'll go together.”

“What's our next plan of attack?” Frank asked.

“Get them to delay or cancel the bomb drop,” Donovan said, matter of factly. “We can't let them do it…It's crazy, as well as irresponsible. Hurricanes are a part of nature. They're meant to exist.”

“I'm with you, skipper,” Frank agreed. “I wonder what would happen if we leaked this to the press. What would the public outcry be?”

“I'm loving this!” Nicolas said, enthusiastically. “We've even got a reporter in the back.”

“We can't,” Donovan countered. “It goes against Eco-Watch's confidentiality policy. I won't go there…yet.”

The upper reaches of Helena were just above them. The cockpit began to grow lighter as they thundered higher into the morning sky. Donovan put the Gulfstream into a sharp turn to the west. They just cleared the edge of the clouds as they soared clear of the hurricane.

“Nicolas. You have the plane. Get us a clearance to orbit here for now. I'm going to the back. Frank. Get on the phone to everyone you know at the Gulfstream factory. Brainstorm with their engineers, dissect every possible scenario—I don't care how far-fetched it might be.”

Donovan pulled himself out of the seat. Nicolas was instantly on the radio to New York Center, Frank was furiously dialing the phone. Confident that his crew would accomplish what he wanted, Donovan hurried to the cabin.

“Why are we leaving? What's going on?” Erin began the second Donovan was within earshot.

“Just sit there and listen. You'll hear everything you need to know.” Donovan sat in the seat and began to dial. It felt like an eternity as the signal went through.

“Peggy. It's Donovan. Is William there yet?”

“Yes. Stand by. He's going to your office. Are Michael and Randy okay?”

“Randy's hurt, but Michael's fine.” Donovan debated about whether or not to have Peggy call their wives. It would be easy for Eco-Watch to send a car to bring them to the facility. He thought of the sealed file that contained all the procedures in case of an accident. It covered the spectrum, from dealing with the press, to having clergy and support counselors standing by for the families. The thought made Donovan shudder. It was still too early to press that button.

“Mr. VanGelder is ready now,” Peggy said. “Let me know if I can do anything at all.”

“Thanks, Peggy. I will.” Donovan waited as the call was transferred. If William had gone to his office then there must be new developments at his end.

William picked up the phone. “Donovan, I've hit a dead end with both the Navy and the Coast Guard. All I'm getting is the run around. It's the damnedest thing.”

“I know why.” Donovan eyed Erin, who was hanging on to his every word. “I just found out from Lauren. Their plan is to detonate a nuclear weapon in Helena's eye.”

“They're going to do what?”

“You heard me.”

Erin's hand shot to her mouth, her eyes filling with dismay.

“In less than four hours a B-1 bomber is going to drop the thing to try to dissipate the hurricane. It's why you're not finding any rescue ships. Everything is probably being ordered to stay in port.”

“Those sons of bitches!” William said, angrily. “I can't believe the President didn't tell me anything about this.”

“We need them either to delay, or to cancel this thing. Michael's airplane is damaged. I don't think he'll survive if we try to fly him through the hurricane. Can you talk to the President again? See what our options are?”

“You're damn right I will!” William thundered. “I'll call you back as soon as I can.”

“Let me call you,” Donovan explained. “I'm in the back of the plane with Erin. I don't want Nicolas or Frank to hear our conversation. If we have to…I'm willing to try to buy our way out of this one.”

“What are you getting at?”

Donovan's eyes met Erin's. “In a few days, the world is going to know I'm Robert Huntington. The game's up. If I have to spend my money openly to save these people, then so be it. Get the President to postpone the bomb. We can buy a ship and hire a crew to go save them. Whatever it takes…I don't care at this point.”

“Let me talk to the White House. Call me back in ten minutes.”

“Will do.” Donovan ended the call. He was still staring at Erin. “You getting all this—for your exclusive?”