“Yes, but it worked when we needed it.” Donovan silenced the bell and reluctantly shut the left engine down. Michael had already used both fire extinguishers to fight the same problem, and all Donovan could hope for was that the fire would burn itself out. He compensated for the uneven thrust by pushing on the right rudder. Finally, clear of the worst of the smoke, he banked toward the north shore of Monterey Bay—the only land he could see that wasn’t on fire.
In the distance, he spotted a ship under way in the heavy waves. The Buckley. Donovan turned his attention to flying, and from memory, pictured the available airports north of Monterey. San Jose would be ideal, though with no flight instruments, he might have to divert somewhere else. San Francisco was an option or even Oakland if the smoke downwind of the fires brought the visibility down. He studied the hills off his nose and calculated that with only one engine, it would still be an easy climb up and over them. San Francisco Bay would be on the other side, and he could take his pick of airports. Donovan pushed up the right throttle and the engine made a muffled sound of protest, and with little fanfare, the turbine began to slow as it shut down.
“What was that? What’s happening?” Shannon asked.
“I think we just ran out of fuel.” Donovan switched on both igniters and listened for any sound of the right engine restarting. All he could hear were the turbine blades spooling down, then the inside of the Gulfstream became very quiet.
“How far can we glide?” Shannon asked, rigid in her seat.
“Not far enough.” Donovan could see that the nearest shore was shrouded in smoke and the land he could see straight ahead was too far away. They’d never get there. The wind-churned waves below made the decision easy. All he could do was turn into the wind and set them down in the ocean close enough for someone to rescue them quickly. He banked the Gulfstream hard to the left and as he completed the one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn, he spotted a distinct trail of black smoke and knew with certainty it was coming from the left engine.
Shannon stretched for a better view out the side window of the plane. “Is that smoke coming from us?” she managed.
“I think so,” Donovan said as the familiar fear of burning returned. Was more of the Gulfstream on fire than the engine? He pushed the controls to start losing as much altitude as possible. If they were still burning, he needed to get the airplane down before the plane came apart or the fire reached the cabin. He searched the ocean until he spotted the white and red dot that was the Buckley. “Shannon, we’re going to land in the water. Under your seat is a life vest. Put it on now, but don’t inflate it yet.”
“That’s got to be better than burning.”
“I agree. All of this is going to happen fast. I want you to slide your seat all the way back and keep your legs tucked in, away from the rudder pedals. When I say brace for impact, lean over and wrap your arms beneath your legs and hang on. It’ll be rough, and the airplane will hit the water more than once, but we’ll survive the ditching. Don’t move until I say it’s safe. We’ll plan on using the over wing exits. As soon as I say it’s safe, you get up and go straight to the first one you find and get it open.”
“Got it.” Shannon pulled out her life vest, squirmed in her seat, and pulled harder on the straps of her harness.
“I’ll carry William to the exit. The directions on how to pop the hatch are clearly marked. I want you to climb out on the wing and hang on. I’ll need you to pull William, as I push. Whatever happens, we get him out of the plane. Understood?”
“The waves look big,” Shannon said. “Are you going to be okay in the water?”
Donovan didn’t answer. He forced himself to fly the airplane, to accomplish each task in order. The final job, and the answer to Shannon’s question, would be answered when it was time to climb out of the Gulfstream and jump into the waiting ocean.
Shannon bit her lip. “You didn’t answer me. What do I do if you can’t help me?”
“Help William as best you can. Float him out of the exit as the water rises. There are life vests under each of the seats. Above all else, save yourself.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
LAUREN PRESSED THE rubber eye guards of the binoculars hard against her face. She braced herself against the pitching and rolling of the ship and methodically swept back and forth across the solid wall of smoke. She couldn’t tune out the ticks of the clock in her head that told her time was running out. Donovan should have been airborne by now.
“What’s that?” Ryan said as he briefly lowered his own binoculars and pointed toward the two o’clock position. “Low, and slightly starboard of the bow.”
Lauren held herself steady until she spotted something in the distance. She zeroed in with her binoculars, furiously searching for the correct focus, until her field of view captured the crisp outline of the Eco-Watch Gulfstream flying low and fast. She held her breath as the powerful magnification brought the flames and swirling debris of downtown Monterey into view. Donovan cleared the last tendrils of smoke and banked away from the Buckley allowing Lauren to easily spot the flames pouring from the left engine.
Montero rushed onto the bridge and went straight for Lauren. “Can you see them?”
“Buckley, we’ve got them in sight.” Janie’s voice came over the overhead speaker. “As soon as I get a lock via the camera array, I’ll be transmitting live to the bridge monitors.”
“Say your position relative to the Gulfstream,” Ryan transmitted and then toggled the input on his computer to receive Janie’s feed.
“We’re just above wave-top level. This helicopter flies, but just barely. I can’t climb very well, and our speed has been cut in half.”
Ryan handed Montero a pair of powerful binoculars.
“Their left engine is trailing flames,” Lauren said and listened as Ryan relayed the news to the helicopter.
“Can you tell if the flames are coming from the tailpipe?” Michael asked. “Engines are built for heat, which means the things can burn for a long time and not affect the airframe.”
Lauren tried to hold the binoculars steady in an attempt to carefully examine the airplane. The Gulfstream bounced in and out of her field of view as the ship plowed into the heavy waves. She finally managed to hold everything still for long enough to get the look she needed. Flames were streaming from the exterior of the engine cowling. In that glimpse, she understood that the entire engine pod itself was on fire, and black smoke was beginning to pour from other parts of the tail section. “Fire is coming out of every seam in the metal.”
“We’ve got the feed,” Ryan called out.
Lauren hurried to Ryan and steadied herself against the rolling deck by clutching the frame of his chair. On the big monitor a far superior gyro-stabilized picture of the Gulfstream filled the screen.
“He’s in trouble.” Michael’s voice came from the speaker. “The engine is coming apart.”
Lauren was terrified. Watching and waiting was crushing her. She felt Montero’s arm reach around her shoulders in an effort to comfort her. Donovan was flying away from them, and there wasn’t any way to warn him. His only rescuers were miles away and falling far behind the burning Gulfstream. With her eyes locked on the monitor, she felt a distinct jolt of fear as the left wing began to drop. The Gulfstream started a steep turn to the left. Lauren stiffened, as it looked to her as if they were out of control. After reversing direction, the wings leveled, though the jet was still losing altitude fast. Donovan was now coming toward them.
“He knows he’s on fire, and he’s doing his best to lose altitude,” Michael reported. “He can’t make it to shore. He’s turned into the wind to ditch.”
As the Gulfstream descended, the camera only found water and lost the lock. Lauren ran to the windows and searched the horizon with her binoculars. Trailing smoke, the jet was wings level and low. To Lauren it looked like it was just above the wave tops. Donovan was still flying and fighting, which meant that he was still alive.
The bow of t
he Buckley rose, and then tipped over the top of the wave, before dropping down the backside and plowing through the trough. Then it came up again, water streaming back from the main deck. Lauren raised her binoculars, searched frantically, but found nothing but empty sky.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
DONOVAN STUDIED THE foam-streaked waves as the Gulfstream descended, calculating the best angle for touchdown. He forced out the mental image of his airplane on fire and maintained a steady descent. The wind was blowing hard, turbulence rocking the Gulfstream. As he neared the white caps, he leveled off to bleed the remainder of his excess speed.
His eyes danced between the peaks and valleys of the waves, and he corrected his course to touch down in the smoothest water possible. “Shannon, brace for impact.”
Donovan eased the jet down the last few feet, and in the silence, he heard the first wave slap the underside of the fuselage. Doing his best at keeping the wings level, Donovan felt the next impact and then another. The left wing clipped a wave and the Gulfstream skipped, then came down again. The wing dug in and slewed the airplane around hard. Donovan fought the controls to keep the airplane from cartwheeling. Shannon screamed as she was thrown hard against the side of the cockpit.
The right wing and nose hit into the water, the impact causing a roar that left Donovan’s ears ringing. His shoulders and hips pulled heavily against the harness. Visibility went to zero and he felt himself being shoved back and forth against the side of the plane. He had no idea if the Gulfstream was even right side up.
As the deceleration forces vanished, Donovan released the straps holding him in his seat, threw off his harness, and reached under his seat to yank out the life vest. He tossed it back into the cabin. The nose of the airplane rebounded and popped above the waves. Donovan felt a new surge of fear when he could finally see the sky and surface of the ocean as the Gulfstream rode up and over a big swell.
Shannon’s right hand shot to the side of her head and she groaned.
She seemed rattled by the view out the windscreen, and he leaned over and undid her restraints.
“Shannon, let’s go!”
Donovan waited as Shannon climbed out of the cockpit and ran straight for the emergency exit on the right side of the fuselage. She jerked the handle, pulled, allowing the hatch to freefall onto the floor, and climbed out of the Gulfstream.
Donovan pushed himself out of the captain’s seat. With the floor of the jet pitching in the waves, he lost his balance and fell heavily in the aisle. The pain from his knee was excruciating as he timed the next wave and used his momentum to crawl to William.
His eyes were closed and his heavily bandaged ankle was bleeding. With no real restraints, William had been tumbled in the galley during the ditching. Donovan tried to rouse him but couldn’t, and he decided it might be better for William if he was still out from the morphine.
Shannon stuck her head into the cabin. “The airplane is sinking! Hurry, you need to get out.”
The water level in the aisle was rising, and Donovan reached under William’s arms, leaned back, and lifted. With just enough room to maneuver, Donovan raised William up onto his right shoulder and took all of the weight on his good leg. Using his left arm to steady himself, and timing each wave, Donovan lurched down the aisle toward the exit.
Shannon was crouched out on the wing, her arms outstretched. Just as Donovan reached the hatch, a wave boiled around Shannon and the ocean poured in through the hatch. Drenched by the cold water, Donovan guided William closer to the exit, until Shannon could grasp him under his arms. Pushing as hard as he could, William’s limp form slid through the hatch until he lay on the wing.
“Inflate your vest,” Donovan called to Shannon, as he grabbed and put on his own vest. He reached under a seat in the cabin and retrieved a third packaged flotation device and handed it out the hatch to Shannon.
“Donovan, get out of the plane!” Shannon yelled as another wave crashed over the wing and almost washed both her and William into the ocean. “I can’t hold him and get his vest on.”
Donovan leaned out, his eyes fixed on William instead of the roaring waves, and climbed out the exit. The air smelled clean and free of smoke, but as a swell lifted the airplane, he could see nothing but water and the familiar fear began to squeeze him from the inside out. Decades ago, he’d escaped, but this time he felt wounded and vulnerable. He was a target. This time the ocean wouldn’t miss.
“Hurry,” Shannon said as she ripped the life vest from its pouch and unfurled the straps.
Donovan forced himself to look away from the endless progression of waves as he slid over to William. He locked his hand around William’s belt to hold him in place. Together, he and Shannon wrestled the flotation device around William’s neck and fastened the strap around his torso. Donovan yanked the handle, which allowed the small CO2 bottle to inflate the vest.
Shannon pulled the lanyard to inflate her own, and it took shape, and just as quickly deflated.
“There are holes in the fabric,” Donovan said. He peeled off his own vest and tossed it to her. “Take it! I’ll hang on to William.”
They bottomed out in the swell and Donovan felt the wing he was kneeling on tilt away from him. He turned and saw the Gulfstream’s T-tail starting to tip on its side. The warped aluminum and charred paint from the fire damage was clearly visible all along the aft fuselage. From what he could see, the Gulfstream probably couldn’t have remained airborne much longer. The tail angled steeply, and the last surge of air trapped in the cabin bubbled to the surface. Then the jet quietly slipped beneath the waves. Donovan kept a firm hand on William as the jet sank below them.
The next surge lifted him and William up, and Donovan heard an unfamiliar sound carried in on the wind. He twisted in the water to find the source, but found nothing as he and William were swept down the backside of the swell. As they rose once again on the next wave, a warbling whistle pierced his ears. Then he heard the deep resonant thud of rotor blades. When he swiveled his head, he finally caught sight of a helicopter.
Brushing seawater from his eyes, Donovan saw the Eco-Watch helicopter coming straight for them. He waved his free hand. Elated, he turned to make sure Shannon saw their rescuers, but there was nothing but empty water. He spun around. Couldn’t find her. The helicopter was slowing. Donovan let go of William’s belt and made sure he floated faceup without any assistance. He took one quick look at the helicopter to ensure they saw him. Someone in a wetsuit wearing a scuba mask waved from the open door. Confident William would be rescued momentarily, Donovan shut out the demons screaming at him to give up. He took two deep breaths, lunged forward, and dove beneath the surface.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“WE’VE REACQUIRED THE video feed from the helicopter,” Ryan called out to Lauren and Montero from across the bridge.
Lauren turned away from the window and hurried to the monitor at the chart table, Montero right behind her. The Gulfstream was down. She could see it floating in the ocean, the water and foam streaming down from the sides and tail from the ditching. The fire, which a moment earlier was a raging concern, had been reduced to a cloud of steam whipped away by the wind.
“Oh man, Donovan did a perfect job!” Michael’s excitement radiated from the speaker. “They’re down.”
Lauren watched the white caps break along the side of the floating airframe. With muscles wire-taut, she was afraid to breathe as she silently pleaded with the universe for those inside to get out. The emergency hatch fell inward, revealing a hole in the side of the Gulfstream. The first figure climbed out on the wing.
“I see Shannon,” Michael said. “Janie says we’re less than five minutes out.”
Lauren watched Shannon turn and reach back inside the airplane. Moments later, she leaned backwards as if pulling a great weight. A torso appeared in the exit and another set of arms pushed William all the way out on the wing. As the helicopter drew closer, the camera provided enough detail so Lauren could see William’s
arm in a sling, and his lower leg and foot heavily wrapped.
“Oh no, William looks pretty banged up,” Montero said.
“I can see someone else in the cabin,” Michael transmitted. “Janie is going to maneuver us directly overhead. You may lose the video again due to the angles.”
Lauren let out an involuntary gasp as she spotted Donovan in the exit. He pulled himself out on the wing, and in the high-resolution clarity, she could see the tattered fabric of his trousers and the bandage wrapped around his thigh. Lauren lost sight of Donovan as the waves rose and fell, and when she could finally see him again, he was removing his life vest and handing it to Shannon. Lauren couldn’t help but imagine what Donovan must be feeling at being out in the ocean. She’d spent countless nights in their years together holding him as he awoke, covered in sweat and gasping at the reoccurring nightmare of losing both parents and being a teenager adrift at sea.
The transmitted image shook badly, and Lauren couldn’t see anything. She glanced at Montero, and then Ryan, who sat resolute at the helm of the Buckley as they plowed through swell after swell. The image returned but wildly out of focus, and she squinted to try and make sense out of what she was seeing. The chaotic blob on the screen drew together until Lauren realized that there was nothing to see but water. The Gulfstream was gone. She spotted Donovan in the water next to William, but she couldn’t find Shannon. The focus moved in and out quickly, as if searching for something to lock on to, and when the picture stabilized, only William was visible. The rotor wash of the helicopter began to ripple and whip the water, and Lauren again couldn’t see anything.
When the camera once again projected a workable field of view, Lauren covered her mouth with her hand. She watched Michael and Ethan leap from the helicopter and hit the water. Ethan swam straight for William. Michael tucked and dove straight down, and that was all Lauren could see as tears flooded her vision.
Speed the Dawn Page 22