Category Five

by Philip Donlay

  Donovan let go of Erin’s arm. He saw the honesty in her eyes, and for the first time since he met her, he felt as if she were telling him the truth.

  “Go then,” Donovan said. “I hope your story does justice to everything these men are trying to do.”

  “Trust me. It will.” Erin took several paces then stopped. “I still don’t quite know what to make of you.”

  Donovan turned and climbed the steps up to the flight deck. Erin’s attitude shift bothered him. Earlier, she’d ignored his words. Now she seemed eager to embrace them. Was she telling him what he wanted to hear, or did she have another agenda? He buried his misgivings at her being on board the second he entered the cockpit. Out of the front of the plane, he could see the familiar white clouds that marked Helena.

  Donovan leaned down between the two pilots. His practiced eye swept the panel of the modern jet. He could see they were about to level at 45,000 feet, their speed building.

  “Captain Nash,” Hays said, leaning back. “How we doing on time?”

  “We still have a workable window,” Donovan replied. “I didn’t know a C-17 could get to 45,000 feet.”

  “It can today,” Hays replied, dryly.

  “I’m told the eye is starting to contract.” Donovan knew that Hays was doing whatever it took to get the job done. “Last report gave it a diameter of only eight miles.”

  Hays lovingly patted the glare shield. “She’s big, but she’s pretty damn maneuverable.”

  “The Gulfstream will be listening on VHF, 129.72. The sooner I can talk to them the better. Their call sign is Eco-Watch 01.”

  Hays nodded as Jacobs dialed in the frequency. “Done. Anything else I can do for you?”

  “Fly fast.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Is it my imagination,” Michael craned his neck to look out the window, “or is the eye shrinking?”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” Lauren looked at the same cylinder of thunderstorms that towered above them. “This hurricane has rewritten the books. There’s no telling what she’s capable of doing. But I think you’re right.”

  “How’s our time?” Michael asked, well aware of each passing second.

  “We’ve got an hour and fifteen minutes before the B-1 bomber gets here.” Lauren looked at her watch. “Or, thirty minutes before we try to pick our way out of the storm on our own.”

  “Seems like a long time,” Michael said, wearily.

  Lauren could see the strain on Michael’s face. His usually vibrant eyes had dulled from the pressure. His sarcasm had vanished long ago.

  “I have this bad feeling,” Michael offered. “That something’s gone wrong for Donovan. I would have thought he’d have been back by now.”

  “Maybe it’s a good thing he’s not.” Lauren regretted her words the second she said them. “I mean that in a good way. We won’t have to convince him to leave us alone.”

  “I know.” Michael tried to smile. “But you have some things to tell him. Things he needs to hear.”

  “How do you think he’ll react?” Lauren lowered her head.

  “Underneath it all, he’ll be thrilled. He’s always loved children. You should see him when we’re out on trips. He’s the first one to stop what he’s doing, and give some child a tour of the airplane. You can see in his eyes how much he loves them.”

  Lauren bit her lip at the image Michael had painted. “You really think so? I’ve bounced back and forth, from imagining the best to the worst.”

  “Eco-Watch 01. This is Reach 410. How do you read?”

  “Who’s that?” Lauren looked at Michael, as the strange voice sounded over the speaker.

  “I don’t know. It’s the call sign the Air Force uses for cargo flights.” Michael quickly went for the microphone. “Reach 410. This is Eco-watch 01. We read you.”

  “Good to hear your voice, Captain. Stand by.”

  “What are they doing here?” A surge of hope swept through her tired body.

  “Michael. It’s Donovan. How you doing buddy? You haven’t given up on me have you?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in an Air Force C-17. We’ll be there in twenty minutes. Things are going to happen fast once we arrive.” Donovan paused. “Is Lauren still with you?”

  “I’m here.” Lauren had slipped on her headset at the first sound of Donovan’s voice.

  “Okay. Lauren, I’m told they’re planning to explode the bomb at 25,000 feet, but they want your opinion. Seems there’s some disagreement about this.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that too. Tell them it needs to be much lower…more like 5,000 feet. Helena’s energy needs to be forced up into the stratosphere, not compressed against the ocean.”

  “I’ll tell them.” Donovan replied.

  “So they’re not going to call this off?” Michael asked.

  “No. But here’s what’s going to happen. Michael, you’re going to get into position to ditch the Gulfstream as soon as we arrive. Frank talked to his people and the only addition to the emergency procedures manual is to open at least one of the over-wing exits before you touch down. It will ensure an exit.”

  “Wait a second!” Michael sat up straight. “We’re not going to fly out of this storm? You want us to ditch? How is that going to save us?”

  “Because seconds after you’re in the water, we’re going to drop a submarine out of the back of this plane. You’ll be out of the storm, buddy, a thousand feet below the surface.”

  “Holy mother of God!” Michael replied, awestruck. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Nope. I’ve got one of our subs, the Atlantic Star. She’s all buckled up ready to go. All you need to do is ditch, then get out of the plane into the rafts. We’ll do the rest.”

  “Are you sure this is the only way?” Michael gave Lauren a concerned look. “You make ditching this airplane sound easy. Have you noticed the waves down there lately?”

  “It’ll work. Trust me on this one, Michael. Frank says it’s very predictable. The airplane will hit twice, then spin ninety degrees as you come to a stop. You’ll have plenty of time to get out into the rafts.”

  Michael rubbed his tired eyes as he processed the information, then looked down at the rolling ocean below.

  “If anyone can do this, it’s you.” Donovan urged. “There’s not another pilot alive I’d rather have in the left seat doing this.”

  “It’s that alive thing that’s got me worried.” Michael took a slow measured breath. “Okay. If this is what we need to do…let’s do it.”

  “When we get there we’ll go over everything one more time.”

  “I copy,” Michael replied. “I’m going to descend and get an up-close look at the waves. I need to figure out the best way to set us down.”

  “Lauren, is Randy able to swim? Do you think he’ll be able to get out of the plane on his own?”

  “He’s awake. He’ll need some help, though.”

  “Okay, Michael will explain everything that needs to happen. But hurry. We don’t have much of a window. And like I said, once we arrive, this is all going to happen very fast.”

  “I need you to relay a message to Calvin Reynolds.” Lauren thought of what Brent had suggested earlier. “Carl confessed to trying to steal information from the DIA. He also said his family is at risk. Calvin will know what to do.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  “Donovan…Lauren has something to say to you.” Michael gave her a sideways glance as he transmitted.

  “No!” Lauren shook her head. “Not now.”

  “What is it?” Donovan asked.

  “Nothing. We’ve got a lot of work to do,” Lauren said sternly.

  Michael leaned closer. “This is the time Lauren. He needs to know. There’s no guarantee this is going to work. I’m serious. Despite Donovan’s pep talk, we might not survive the ditching.”

  “Lauren?” Donovan questioned.

  “Go on.” Michael urged.

  Lauren no
dded; butterflies fluttered in her abdomen. She took a breath and sighed heavily.

  “This is never how I pictured saying this,” Lauren said, her voice wavering on the edge of tears. “I hope you can forgive me.”

  “I’m listening,” Donovan urged.

  “If something happens…” Lauren choked as she tried to talk. “If something happens to me, you have to promise you’ll take care of our daughter. She’s with my mother…Her name is Abigail.”

  Lauren broke the connection and sobbed into her hands. She felt Michael reach out and put his hand on her shoulder. The only sounds in the cockpit came from the hum of the Galileo. The silence from the radio was deafening.

  Michael was about to key the microphone when Donovan’s voice came across the miles.

  “I promise,” came Donovan’s emotion-filled reply. “I can’t believe…When did you…I wish you’d have told me.”

  “Lauren told me earlier,” Michael continued. “I thought you should know. Sorry to force the issue, but I thought it was important. The other thing is, at last report, Abigail and Lauren’s mother were stranded at the Newark airport. Hopefully they’re gone by now…but they need to be out of there.”

  “Lauren. Thank you for telling me. We’ll see her later. Together,” Donovan said, his voice stronger. “I promise you I’ll make sure they’re safe.”

  “Really?” Lauren sniffed, her eyes filling with tears and her body shuddering under the emotions she felt.

  “I’m thrilled, Lauren. I really am.”

  Lauren tried to wipe her eyes. A reluctant smile came to her face as she silently thanked Michael.

  “Michael.” Donovan spoke to his friend. “I have to get to the back and make sure everything is ready when we arrive. You need to do the same. We’re going to want you to ditch as close to the northwestern quadrant of the eye as you can. It’ll buy us some time.”

  “I understand.”

  “You’ll hear from us again as we enter the eye. Take care of Lauren for me.”

  “You can count on it.”

  Thanks, guys.” As Donovan handed the microphone back to Hays, he ignored the questioning looks on the pilot’s faces. “I’m headed down below.”

  “After the drop,” Hays said before Donovan left, “we’re going to have to hightail it out of here.”

  “Will you be in contact with the B-1?”

  Hays shook his head. “No, not directly, but there’s an AWACS aircraft moving into position about 200 miles from here. They’re going to monitor the explosion. They’re working the B-1. We’ll forward the information from Dr. McKenna through them.”

  “Perfect. I’ll be back.” Donovan hurried out of the cockpit. The news that he had a daughter filled him with both joy and dread. If he couldn’t protect Meredith, how could he hope to protect his daughter—especially as he was about to once again become Robert Huntington? Donovan carefully gathered his fragmented emotions and tried to redirect them into purpose.

  With a new determination, he raced to join the others in back. The Atlantic Star was still strapped tightly to the cargo floor. Nylon webbing was now pulled tightly around the gleaming white pressure vessel. As he rounded the cylindrical hull, he found the others. They were all staring at him.

  “What? Is there a problem?”

  “We heard,” Erin spoke first. “Buck was testing his radio. We heard what was said from the Eco-Watch plane.”

  “Forget about it.” Donovan wanted everyone focused on the coming job. “It’ll be fine; nothing’s changed. Now explain to me exactly how this is going to be a soft landing.”

  “I was just about to explain what I’ve done.” Taylor tested one of the wire-taut restraining straps with his gloved hand. “The webbing will distribute the stress of the chute opening all along the vessel’s superstructure. Mr. Graff has assured me the hull can easily withstand the strain.”

  “What about getting rid of all this mess once they’re in the water?” Donovan followed Taylor to the rear of the submarine.

  “That’s the beauty of my design.” Taylor strutted to a different section of the sub. “I’ve rigged the webbing to the pallet. It all gathers on top and connects in two places. Here at the bow, and again at the stern. All Buck has to do is cut the lines, and the weight of the pallet should pull everything under the water. We’re counting that the chute will fall off to one side when it deflates. This should eliminate any of the parasail’s lines fowling the sub.”

  “Brilliant.” Donovan turned to Buck, who had donned a wetsuit and harness. His mask was propped up on his forehead; his flippers lay next to him. “How does all of this set with you?”

  “I’m good to go. My only concern is an accurate drop in relation to the people in the water.”

  “You leave that to me.” Taylor patted the side of the C-17. “With this plane and the GPADS system—I could park this sub in your garage from eight miles up.”

  “Where’s Graff?” Donovan looked around.

  “He’s in the sub,” Erin offered. “He’s running pre-dive checklists.”

  “Okay then.” Donovan glanced at his watch. “So once we know they’re in the water, we open the rear door, cut these straps holding the sub to the floor, and away you go?”

  “Something like that,” Taylor replied. “Once we’re in position, I’ll cut all but two restraints. It’ll make the last little bit go smoother.”

  “How do you get the sub out the door?” Erin asked.

  “Right here,” Taylor pointed. “Three, twenty-eight foot extraction chutes. We open them up and they deploy in the air behind the C-17. The drag pulls the sub out on the rollers. It’s a set of physics that won’t be denied.”

  Donovan heard the sound of a chime, at the same instant the roar from the four engines began to subside. He knew Hays must be slowing for their descent into the eye.

  “Show time,” Donovan said. He wanted to say something specific to Buck, but words to express his gratitude and hope wouldn’t come. He looked on as the SEAL slipped a flotation device over his head and cinched up the straps.

  “Buck. Good luck down there.” Donovan tried to be encouraging, but both men knew the extreme nature of the job.

  Buck checked his range of motion with the life preserver secured. “SEALs don’t need luck—we make our own. Don’t worry. I’ll do everything I can to get them all in the sub safely.”

  “Thanks.”

  Buck pulled a sheathed knife from his duffel bag. He inspected the blade in the light. “Make sure your man down there knows what to do. If the ditching somehow goes wrong—there’s no use dropping the sub. It’s all on him right now. He does his part, I’ll do mine.”

  “Is there any way I can talk to the Galileo from here?” Donovan asked.

  “Yeah, sure.” Buck handed Donovan a small hand-held VHF radio. “It should be fully charged; the frequency is already set. It’s how we accidentally heard the earlier exchange you had with your lady friend.”

  Donovan switched on the volume and adjusted the squelch. “Michael, you ready?”

  “Almost.” Michael’s reply was almost instantaneous, though the signal was scratchy. “I’m as close to the eye wall as I can get.”

  “We just came over the top and have started our descent. Say your altitude.” Donovan paused. “Captain Hays. Are you on the frequency too?”

  “We’re right here,” Hays replied from the cockpit.

  “Good. Michael, I’m sorry. Say your altitude again?”

  “We’re down to 500 feet. I’ve been looking at the waves.”

  “And?” Donovan had only a vague idea of what the surface conditions might be.

  “They’re huge, but without any wind, they’re mostly flat on top. They’re big enough to set the Gulfstream down on the back side of a swell. They’re rolling at a long enough interval that we should have a fairly smooth time of it for at least twenty seconds after we touch down.”

  Donovan nodded. Michael had everything under control. “Is everyone in back re
ady to go?”

  “As far as I know. We’ve already pulled one of the emergency hatches and both emergency rafts have been readied.”

  “I understand. Is Lauren going to be in front, or in the back when you ditch?”

  “She’s going to be up here with me. Randy is still out of it and I’m going to need some help.”

  “Mr. Nash, I think you should join us on the flight deck,” Hays transmitted. “We can see the Gulfstream and I’ve just been given word the B-1 bomber is fifty-one minutes out. We need to start.”

  “I copy,” Michael replied. “I’m starting down.”

  “Once I free these straps we’re going to open the doors.” Taylor explained as he stepped away from one he’d just released. “Ms. Walker, you’d better go with Mr. Nash to the cockpit.”

  “Go!” Buck urged.

  Donovan ran past the sub and headed for the cockpit. Erin followed close behind. Donovan climbed the ladder and burst onto the flight deck. They were getting lower. A quick glance at the altimeter told him they were leaving 5,000 feet.

  “Where are they?” Donovan moved behind Hays. He felt Erin squeeze in to get a look also.

  “Eleven o’clock low,” Jacobs said, pointing. “They’re in a left turn.”

  “Michael. We see you.” Donovan was momentarily stunned by the sight of the white Gulfstream against the giant blue-green waves. Not half a mile away sat the swirling, spinning edge of the hurricane. “We’re getting into position. Are you ready?”

  “We’re ready,” Lauren answered. “Michael says we’re starting now. I love you, Donovan.”

  Donovan felt a longing at the sound of her words. He couldn’t imagine what must be running through her mind.

  “We’re slowing to 150 knots,” Hays said. “That’s the speed we need to drop the sub. The rear door is open and Taylor says we’re good to go. Everyone keep an eye out for the rafts once they’re down.”

  Donovan keyed his microphone. “I love you too.” He stood mesmerized as the Gulfstream settled lower and lower toward the ocean. A massive wave built beneath Michael’s plane. Donovan’s body tensed as it appeared the surging water would swat the Galileo from the sky. At the last second, the Gulfstream nosed higher and, in a blur of metal impacting water, the airplane vanished in an explosion of white spray.