There were also several pictures of ocean-going ships. A small but growing section of Eco-Watch was the marine unit. The foundation had recently allocated funds to expand into the oceanic research arena. There were three ships now, two based in Norfolk, Virginia, the other operating out of Hawaii. Like their aviation counterparts, they roamed the planet gathering data in the name of environmental science. Donovan stood back. The informal gallery represented eight years’ worth of Eco-Watch missions. He and his people had been to virtually every corner of the globe.
His eyes darted to the bottom left drawer of his credenza. Inside was a photograph of Lauren. In his mind’s eye, he could visualize the snapshot. They’d been on vacation in San Francisco. She’d looked radiant that day, her face a mix of seduction and serenity. Her hair had been tousled by the wind, the sunset filtering through the strands. The picture had given her an angelic quality, almost otherworldly. He knew he should have gotten rid of it long ago, but could never quite bring himself to toss it in the trash.
Donovan thought back to the day’s events in Bermuda. His internal battle with the bridge still haunted him. At one point in his life he’d loved the ocean, been at home in and under the water. He had been a strong swimmer and fearless diver. But that person was gone now, swept away by a vengeful sea. What remained was a man terrified at the prospect of being in the water. He’d buried his fear for years, tried to blot out the root cause. But today had dredged it all up. Donovan felt the anguish begin to build. He briefly wondered how long a man could keep losing little pieces of himself and still survive.
At war with his emotions, Donovan reached for the remote control and commanded the television to life. He tuned the set to the Weather Channel, then took a long pull from his water, the lump in his throat seeming to wash away as he focused on a satellite shot of the Atlantic Ocean. He was amazed at how far Helena had traveled since they’d left this morning for Bermuda. The mass of clouds was churning northeast. The time lapsed images from space easily showed the rotation around the eye. He imagined Bermuda must be getting hammered. Donovan toggled the volume until the meteorologist’s voice could be heard.
“The National Weather Service has upgraded Helena to a category three hurricane. Peak winds near the eye wall have been recorded at 115 miles per hour. The eye is now located 79 miles southwest of Bermuda and the storm is moving northwesterly at eleven knots. We’ll be right back with the latest projections of Helena’s expected track. All of you living on the East Coast stay tuned as we continue to follow Helena’s movement.”
Donovan flipped the channel. He knew there was no way they could project if and when Helena might make landfall. Donovan silenced the set. Still feeling wrung out, he went to his desk and sat down. It was as he’d left it earlier. There was a pile of paperwork he knew he should do, but he swept it aside. Instead, he opened the bottom drawer and found the picture of Lauren.
The voice of reason urging him to let her go, he instead drank in the warmth of her smile. He looked into her eyes and relived all the reasons he’d lost her. If he were simply Donovan Nash, Director of Eco-Watch, they’d still be together. He’d lost her because of who he really was. It was the most indefensible reason of all.
Donovan slid the photo back in the drawer. He took a deep breath to try to quiet himself. He’d failed today on so many levels, first with the raging sea, then in his attempts to reach out to Lauren. He knew in his heart that anything he might say and do at this point was probably a waste of effort. She was lost to him forever. His controlled and calculated life had cost him the woman he loved.
CHAPTER SIX
I’ve explained this to you a dozen times—Donovan Nash’s boots were a different style from the ones I saw.” Lauren was growing tired of this game. For the last half hour they’d simply been asking her the same questions again and again. Each barrage focused in on Donovan.
“Dr. McKenna. You were upside down in a wrecked car in the middle of a hurricane. I find it difficult to believe that you could be aware of different styles of footwear.”
Lauren ground her teeth. The helicopter had whisked them directly from Dulles to DIA headquarters. She’d barely had time to change clothes, then call and check in with her mother before being called in to this debriefing. She had a million things to do and these guys were starting to irritate her.
“I’m a woman. I notice things like that,” she remarked coolly. “Look. If Donovan Nash wanted to steal my computer, why did he save my life? It would have been far easier for him to let me drown.”
“Dr. McKenna. What is your relationship with Mr. Nash?”
“He’s a friend.” Lauren wished her feelings were as simple as her words.
“You are aware of a previous investigation centered around Mr. Nash?”
Lauren nodded that she was.
“Have you ever passed sensitive documents to Mr. Nash?”
Lauren glared at the agent who had asked the question. “That is perhaps the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You may have a security leak, but it isn’t me and I doubt very much if Donovan is involved either.”
“Would you please answer the question?”
“I’ve never passed sensitive information to anyone.”
The door to the room opened. Lauren looked up to see her boss, Deputy Director Calvin Reynolds. Tall and thin, Calvin always made an entrance. He was in his late fifties and had been with the DIA almost thirty years. Round wire-framed glasses were perched on his hawkish nose. Each strand of his thinning gray hair was carefully combed straight back. As he did almost every day, Calvin wore suspenders. Today they were red, and matched his perfectly knotted tie. Lauren prayed that this was her chance to escape the interrogation.
“If you’re about finished here,” Reynolds announced, “I need Dr. McKenna.”
Lauren didn’t wait for a reply. She stood and glared at the two men. “Yes. We’re done.” She turned toward Calvin and mouthed a silent thank you.
Reynolds held the door open for her to pass, then addressed the investigators. “I’ve just received a message from the Navy. Dr. Kenneth Browning is missing. He was last seen about to board the USS Thorn. Now he’s vanished. They suspect he was swept overboard as they steamed toward the eye of the hurricane. One dead, another missing. I’d like some answers, gentleman.”
Standing in the hall, Lauren could clearly hear the news of Kenneth’s disappearance. He’d been her right hand man on the project and she’d last seen him this morning in Bermuda. Lauren remembered the awkward hug he’d given her before they’d parted company. She could easily picture him waving goodbye. It was just before she and Victor had made their mad dash for the airport. Her knees felt weak and unsteady as she processed the fact that he, too, could be dead.
Calvin turned to Lauren and said quietly, “I’m sorry about Kenneth. But with so much happening right now, I don’t have time to sugar-coat every new development. This entire project is going to hell…And me with it.”
Lauren was still in shock. Of all her people, Kenneth was by far the nicest and least deserving of an untimely death.
“But enough of my problems.” Calvin tried to force a smile. “They’re getting ready to deploy Jonah. Let’s get down there and see if something good has come out of all this.”
Lauren nodded and fell in step beside Calvin. She could feel the adrenaline begin to pump. Jonah was her brainchild: a state-of-the-art advancement in hurricane research.
“I hope the Navy can launch it without Kenneth,” Lauren worried out loud. “That was why he went out on the ship. After all of his design work on the flight envelope and propulsion systems, he really felt he was needed when they reached Helena’s eye.”
“We’ve established a direct link with the destroyer USS Thorn. You’re going to be in charge of the deployment from here. I don’t need to remind you how much we need this experiment to work.”
“It’ll work,” Lauren said, convincingly. “We’re going to have an around the clock, real-time v
iew of Helena and how she’s behaving.”
They reached the metal door of the operations room and Calvin stopped. “Helena is now a category three storm. Do you still think she could go to a category five?”
Lauren looked directly into Calvin’s eyes. “It’s not a matter of if—but when.”
Calvin nodded and blew out a quiet breath. “Then let’s get Jonah airborne. If what you say is true, we’re going to need all the hard evidence we can acquire before we sound the alarm and evacuate all of our resources in Helena’s path.”
Calvin swiped his ID card through the slot and entered his code. The sound of the lock echoed through the hall. Lauren entered into her arena: computers, satellites, and the realm of global weather patterns. She hurried to her section and sat down before an array of large, high-definition television screens. This was the most complex system of computers and communications equipment money could buy. Using her password, Lauren quickly linked up through the DMSP-3 satellite. The Defense Meteorology Support Program, or DMSP, was a series of military dedicated weather satellites. Her primary role within the DIA was to monitor the earth for weather patterns that might effect ongoing military operations. A few keystrokes later, and the main screen produced a clear image of the fantail of the USS Thorn. In the background she could see the partially inflated Jonah.
“This is Dr. McKenna. Who am I speaking to?”
“Dr. McKenna. This is Lt. Joseph Herrera. Can you hear me okay?”
“I read you five by five, Lt. Herrera.” Lauren was relieved the link was of such high quality. She could see every detail of the operation. “How did Jonah ride out the passage through the storm? Were there any problems?”
“No problems.” Herrera paused. “I gather you know about Dr. Browning?”
“Yes I know,” Lauren said quietly. She felt a growing sadness fighting to be heard. She pictured Kenneth, his crooked grin and sheepish smile. His little habit of clicking the mechanism on his pen when he was nervous or deep in thought. But most of all she remembered how passionate he was about the Jonah project. He was the one who had come up with the name, comparing the eye of a hurricane to the belly of a giant whale.
“Dr. McKenna…are you still there?”
“Yes. Let’s get started.” Lauren cleared her throat. “First, I need to know the current weather at your location. Specifically, how much wind is going over the stern of the ship?”
“As you know, it’s very calm here in the eye. We’re making nine knots, which is the amount of wind over the fantail.”
“Perfect. Now I need you to double check that the support wires aren’t tangled and that the lines will uncoil as we inflate the airship.”
“Already done.”
“Good. Now, the bottles of hydrogen are numbered as to which specific compartment inside the balloon’s envelope we fill first. Do you have Kenneth’s—Dr. Browning’s checklist with you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to do one last integrity check from here. Stand by.”
Lauren took her eyes from the screen. The eye wall of the hurricane was clearly visible behind the ship. The vertical mass of churning clouds triggered another burst of adrenaline. This is what Lauren lived for; trying to understand these storms seemed to be in her blood. She quickly activated Jonah’s onboard computer and let it run a self-diagnostic test. The small highspeed computer was at the heart of everything Jonah could do. Once the airship was inflated, it would quickly ascend within the eye of Helena.
Lauren was proud of what she’d been able to construct. Inside the unmanned airship sat a miniaturized Doppler radar array. Current Doppler radar units were huge and ungainly. The most portable of them could only be situated on the beds of large trucks, or mounted inside a dome on a four-engine transport plane. Lauren had been able to take tiny components from the radar systems used in guided missiles and adapt them for her lightweight airborne radar. Jonah could be maneuvered inside the eye via satellite commands, and for seven days, give them an actual radar signature of the eye wall. All of the data was relayed back through the DMSP satellites to this room. Singularly, or in conjunction with research flights run by NOAA, the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration, her system would usher in a new era of real-time storm data.
“Okay Lt. Herrera. We’re good at this end. Let’s get Jonah in the air.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Thrilled, as if watching a new life being born, Lauren sat and watched as the silver envelope began to inflate. It rose into the air, steadied by the control lines. The airship was powered by two electric ducted-fan propellers. A generator inside provided the power for the radar and the engines. Weight had been critical, so Lauren had used highly flammable hydrogen as the gas to float Jonah. As the stored fuel was depleted, the balloon would become lighter. Then they could simply switch over and use the hydrogen as the fuel source for the generator. It solved many of her problems. Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, Jonah filled and rose majestically above the ship.
Lauren typed commands to the propulsion system and watched as each of the propellers jumped to life.
“I’ll make one complete sweep of the radar before we cut it loose,” she said to Herrera. She powered up the array and waited for a computer display to her left to show her the Doppler radar image. On cue, a red band began to form on the black screen. Excited beyond belief, Lauren watched as Jonah began to transmit data. She studied the return and her smile turned into a frown. She quickly adjusted the parameters. The images switched from red to purple. In less than a minute, the screen showed an angry magenta ring around the ship. It was as if she’d been able to x-ray the engine of the storm. Helena was growing more powerful.
“Lt. Herrera. Release the balloon!” Lauren watched as the cables broke away and Jonah sailed skyward behind the ship. The internal Global Positioning System would take over and keep Jonah centered perfectly in the eye.
“It’s away!” Herrera reported.
“Thank you so much.” Lauren felt a mixture of relief and urgency. “Lt. Herrera. I’d suggest you inform the captain his best way out of the eye is to turn to the southwest. The hurricane is building rapidly. I’m going to try to send this data to the bridge. It might prove be to useful.”
Lauren looked over at Brent Whitaker, the DIA communications specialist sitting next to her. He reminded her of an actor on one of her mother’s television programs. Brent had a dark complexion and full head of tousled black hair. The only thing that spoiled his movie star looks was a slight potbelly and a scraggly goatee. Lauren knew he’d recently transferred from another project to assist with Jonah. She’d been impressed with his work, and how quickly he’d melded into their small group. Brent nodded that he could facilitate the transfer.
“Thanks, Dr. McKenna. Glad we could help,” Herrera said quickly; then the transmission was severed.
Lauren stood from the console and marveled at the pictures being sent back from Jonah. Her thoughts went out to the men aboard the destroyer. She hoped they could safely navigate their way back out of the storm.
“Let’s go to my office,” Calvin whispered so only Lauren could hear. “We need to talk.”
Lauren was reluctant to leave, but she knew from the tone of Calvin’s voice what he wanted to say must be important. All of the information from Jonah would be recorded by a round-the-clock team of meteorologists. Her job had been to design it and get it operational. Others would mind the store while she finished up her Bermuda report, then somehow find time to rest. In her brief conversation with her mother, she’d heard Abigail in the background. Despite her triumph with Jonah, she could feel her fatigue beginning to drag her down. All she wanted was to go home and be with her daughter.
Calvin Reynolds breezed past his assistant. “Unless God or the president calls, I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“Yes sir,” the assistant replied, as if it were a typical request.
Calvin went into his spacious office and gestured for Laure
n to take a seat across from his desk. Then he closed the door behind them.
Lauren took a seat, eyeing the more comfortable wing back chairs behind her. It was where she and Calvin usually conducted their meetings. Apparently his intention was to be more formal. She waited patiently as he quickly sifted through his message slips. He glanced at one sheet of paper on his desk, then lay it aside.
“First, I’d like to say how impressed I am with Jonah. From what little I just witnessed, it would appear that we’re on the right track. Nice job.”
Lauren nodded and waited for the other shoe to drop. Calvin was nothing if not a bureaucrat. His highly political job demanded a constant level of maneuvering. They’d known each other for years, from her days at MIT. He’d tried to recruit her back then on behalf of the Defense Intelligence Agency, but she’d declined. Then, right after she’d left Donovan, she sought him out. Calvin cleared the usual red tape, and within days, Lauren held a position as a senior member of the DIA’s meteorological forecast team. The information she and her staff gathered was disseminated to every branch of the military, as well as to the Central Intelligence Agency and the National Security Agency. Meteorology often played a role in the government’s intelligence-gathering capability, as well as in ongoing military operations.
“I’ve just received some more disturbing news.” Calvin scratched his nearly bald head, careful not to disturb what little hair he had. “Kenneth Browning’s body was just discovered in Bermuda. He was murdered.”
“Oh no.” Lauren shook her head in disbelief.
“This business about someone swapping computers is, frankly, mind-boggling. What at first appeared to be an accident, is now shaping up to be a full-fledged attempt at stealing classified information.”
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