“Donovan, Lauren,” Ryan said as he stuck his head out of the hatchway. “The inbound Coast Guard helicopter is for William, and the injured sailor from the Olympia. Michael just reported that William seems stable and good for transport. We’re about to move our helicopter into the hangar, to make room for them to land.”
“Let’s get down there.” Donovan limped toward the elevator that would take them to the helipad. “Ryan, how many people did we pull off the pier?”
“One hundred and twelve,” Ryan said. “The story I’ve heard is that they sought refuge from the tsunami by fleeing to the upper floors of the Marriott. When the power went out, they elected to wait until morning for help to arrive. When fire became a threat, they were forced to evacuate, and the only place they could go was the pier.”
“Where are we headed?” Lauren asked.
“We’ve been asked to bring the survivors to San Francisco,” Ryan said. “Then we’re headed to the shipyard. I’ve got a damaged helicopter, as well as a hull that needs to be inspected. We’ll probably be there for a while.”
“Sounds good,” Donovan said as the door to the elevator opened and out charged Ethan. Sidestepping at the last second to avoid a collision, he dropped a hundred-dollar poker chip, which fell on the floor and started to roll away.
“Mr. Nash, Dr. McKenna, excuse me,” Ethan said, a towel around his neck. “I was headed to my quarters for dry clothes.”
Lauren used the toe of her shoe to stop the chip and reached down to pick it up. “Bellagio? Ethan, are you a gambler?”
“No, not really, it’s for good luck,” Ethan said.
“I’d say it worked today,” Lauren said as she handed him the chip.
“Thank you, Ethan,” Donovan said. “Nice work finding us out at sea, and then getting all the survivors on the ship. The Buckley is lucky to have you aboard.”
“I’m glad it worked. The 747 was a nice touch. Thanks to whoever made that little miracle happen,” Ethan said over his shoulder as he hurried down the passageway.
As the elevator door closed, Lauren looked up at her husband. “He seems nice. Where did Ryan find him, or is Ethan from one of the other Eco-Watch ships?”
“Actually, it was Montero who knew him. They have a history that stretches back to when Montero was living in Florida working for the FBI. Ethan’s former Coast Guard, and he reached out to Montero when he heard we were recruiting people for our new ship. Montero didn’t want anyone to accuse her of favoritism in helping a friend get hired, so she came to me and gave me a heads-up before we hired him. He’s a good guy,” Donovan said as the doors opened and he limped into the passageway.
“Slow down and stop right where you are,” Lauren ordered. “I can hear your knee popping. You need to be off your feet, or at least on crutches. In fact, you should see if there’s room on the Coast Guard helicopter and fly to the hospital with William.”
“We’ll see.” Donovan held out his arm and used Lauren’s shoulder for support. The Coast Guard helicopter was hovering off the port bow. The damaged Eco-Watch helicopter was up on a motorized lift that supported the weight of the machine and allowed it to be rolled from the pad into the hangar. Under Janie’s watchful eye, the helicopter was maneuvered inside the hangar and dozens of survivors gathered around the helicopter to witness the process. When the helicopter was secured, the survivors gave themselves a round of applause, and then gathered behind a mesh barrier the crew had hastily strung across the hangar entrance to allow the Coast Guard helicopter to land on a secure pad.
Donovan and Lauren made their way to William’s stretcher. Michael and Montero were kneeling next to him. As they approached, Donovan was stunned to see that William’s eyes were open. At seeing Donovan, he reached out with his good arm. Donovan ignored the pain in his leg, leaned down, and gripped William’s hand.
“How much do you remember?” Donovan asked, wondering if William had any memory of revealing their secret, knowing they’d eventually discuss every detail as William recuperated.
“Only bits and pieces.”
“I’m going to see if I can get on this helicopter and go with you. We’ll have plenty of time to talk.”
“Son,” William said as the noise from the helicopter grew louder.
Donovan leaned down, and the two men held on to each other.
“Thank you for coming to get me.”
“If you remember, you came for me once upon a time,” Donovan said referring to William’s swift actions when Donovan’s parents drowned. “You’ve rescued me more than once.”
William smiled weakly and held Donovan’s hand as the Coast Guard helicopter touched down. The aft doors slid open and two men wearing orange jumpsuits, helmets, and yellow life vests raced across the deck. They were trailed by a man in a suit, wearing a life jacket. The helicopter crew took the injured crewman from the Olympia first, and once he was secured in the helicopter, they came back for William.
Above the dull roar from the idling helicopter, Donovan asked one of the jumpsuited men. “Can I go with him?”
“Sorry, no room.”
Donovan let go of William’s hand as they lifted him and walked to the idling helicopter.
“Dr. McKenna,” the man in the suit called out to Lauren.
Donovan heard his wife’s name and saw Lauren look up, a flash of worry crossing her face when she spotted the stranger. Donovan turned and limped to intercept the man before he reached Lauren. “Excuse me. Who are you?”
“I’m Coast Guard Special Agent Billings. I’ve been sent to escort Dr. McKenna back to San Francisco.”
“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Donovan said loud enough for the others around him to hear.
“What’s going on here?” Montero said, slipping between Donovan and the man in the suit. “I’m former FBI agent Veronica Montero. State your business.”
“I’m well aware who you are, Ms. Montero, but regardless of your standing, I was dispatched to escort Dr. McKenna to San Francisco.”
“Under whose authority?” Montero snapped. “Is she under arrest?”
“She can be,” Agent Billings replied. “Or I can bring her in under her own recognizance, which is my preference.”
“What are the charges?” Montero asked.
“There’s a list, and most fall under the heading of treason under martial law.”
“It’s okay,” Lauren said as she stepped forward. “I’ll go.”
“Don’t talk to anyone. I’ll try to have an attorney waiting for you when you land,” Montero said. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix this.”
Donovan leaned in and kissed Lauren, hugged her, and whispered in her ear. “I’ll see you later. Go easy on the government, we may need them later.”
Lauren smiled at him over her shoulder as she was escorted to the helicopter. Moments later, it lifted off the helipad, rotated smartly, and powered toward the distant hills and the city beyond.
“I’ll arrange a charter to get us to San Francisco as fast as possible,” Montero said.
“There’s still a no-fly zone in effect.” Michael looked at his watch. “We’ll probably be at the dock in five hours or so.”
“That’ll give us enough time.” Donovan put his arms around Michael and Montero. “Let’s go visit our survivors and see if we can sway some public opinion.”
“What are you talking about?” Montero said. “A hundred survivors aren’t going to sway the FBI or the Pentagon.”
“Probably not directly.” Donovan stood in front of the assembled crowd and raised his hands to get their attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s been a hell of a day, hasn’t it? But we’re all alive, which is, in and of itself, a miracle.”
Donovan paused as the crowd cheered, and more people packed in to join the throng. “Earlier this morning, at first light, a jet flew over the pier. You probably couldn’t see what happened after that, but the jet crashed into the ocean. I was the pilot, and this ship, and the brave crew of the Buckley, came to m
y rescue, and then they came to yours.”
More cheers erupted and Donovan waited. Then he held up his hands and continued to talk. “You just watched as the Coast Guard landed and evacuated our more seriously wounded. You also no doubt saw them escort a woman aboard the helicopter. That woman is Dr. Lauren McKenna. It was Lauren’s connections that brought in the 747 tanker, and allowed all of you to board this ship. It was her and the entire crew of the Buckley who put their lives on the line to rescue you. The problem is that, to save you, she violated direct orders from the military and breached a restricted area under martial law. Now, mind you, there were no military assets that were going to help you. No, you were an acceptable loss in their eyes, but Dr. McKenna didn’t think that was right. She was just taken into custody, and now faces charges of treason.”
Boos and jeers echoed in the hangar as the survivors reacted.
Donovan waited until the noise finally died out enough to be heard. “My question to you people is this: How many of you took pictures or video when this ship came out of the smoke into Monterey Harbor to save you?”
Donovan smiled as dozens of people held up their phones. “How many of you have footage of the Buckley crashing into the pier to stop the fire from reaching you? Or the 747 saving us all?”
More people held up phones and began cheering.
“We’ll be in cell phone range shortly,” Montero said so only Donovan could hear.
“All of us on this ship are alive because of Eco-Watch and Dr. Lauren McKenna. In spite of what we endured, the horrors we witnessed, good things happened here today. We’ll be in cell phone range shortly, so I urge all of you to post and share what you witnessed this morning. If reporters want to interview you, let them. Tell the world what it felt like to be trapped and about to die, and then tell them how it felt to be saved. Dr. McKenna shouldn’t be persecuted by shortsighted military leaders. She’s the reason we’re alive, and she should be hailed as a hero. Let’s all do everything we can to make sure that happens.”
Amplified from being inside the metal hangar, the noise from the survivors was deafening. Donovan waved, and with Michael’s and Montero’s help, he hobbled away.
Michael leaned in. “The crew set up an overflow infirmary down the corridor. On the direct orders of your wife, you’re going there right now to get your leg checked out. If you argue, I’m going to turn the situation over to Montero.”
“Okay, okay.” Donovan held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let Montero take me. Michael, I want you to find out how Shannon is doing.”
“I’ll get an update,” Michael said. “Then you and I need to talk. It’s important.”
“I can listen now.” Donovan could hear the seriousness in his voice.
“No, get your leg fixed up, and after I check on Shannon, I’ll find you,” Michael said as he peeled off.
“What’s up?” Montero asked the moment they were alone.
“Shannon knows the truth about me.”
“Oh no,” Montero said. “What do you need me to do? Our hands are tied until I can get a helicopter out here to fly us ashore.”
“The situation isn’t critical, yet. I need to talk to Shannon,” Donovan said. “I wanted you in the loop. If Lauren and I need to leave, I’m going to ask you to stay and protect William. He’s vulnerable right now.”
“Understood,” Montero said. “Out of curiosity, how did she find out?”
“William’s injuries combined with morphine, shock, and regrets. It wasn’t his fault.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“I WASN’T AWARE that any Eco-Watch personnel were in need of treatment.” The surprised crewman looked up to find Donovan and Montero standing in the small room. “I just finished treating the last of the survivors.”
“Marcus,” Montero said. “Mr. Nash is having leg issues.”
“Okay, Mr. Nash, I’m Marcus.” He shook Donovan’s hand and snapped on a fresh pair of rubber gloves. “Ms. Montero, let’s see if we can help Mr. Nash up on the table.”
Donovan hadn’t yet met all of the crew. If he had, he’d have remembered Marcus. He was probably six foot four, broad-shouldered and fit. He had brown skin, a broad smile, and dense black hair buzzed short on the sides. His intense brown eyes were deep set and serious, though subtle laugh lines softened the effect. Donovan braced himself against the pain as Marcus and Montero helped him up onto the table.
“Ms. Montero, I’ve got it from here. Maybe you could be so kind as to ask the first mate for some dry clothes for Mr. Nash?” Marcus said. He took his first look at Donovan’s blood-stained trouser leg, and removed a pair of scissors from his kit.
“I’ll be back.” Montero stepped out and closed the door.
“While I cut, why don’t you tell me what happened here.” Marcus took the scissors and began cutting the fabric high on Donovan’s thigh. When he finished, he eased the soaked material from Donovan’s leg.
“I was shot,” Donovan said. “Though, the worst of my injuries is my knee. I jumped from a window and landed badly. I can hardly put any weight on it at all.”
“I see.” Marcus continued snipping until all of the earlier dressings Shannon had applied fell away. He dried the skin to finally examine the furrow in Donovan’s thigh. “Is this your only gunshot wound?”
“Yes,” Donovan said.
“Okay, it’s just a nick. You’ll have another scar,” Marcus said. “Your knee is a problem, I can see the swelling.”
Donovan nodded as he felt Marcus gently manipulate the knee in several directions.
“It doesn’t feel loose,” Marcus said. “You may have some damaged cartilage. I’ll get everything wrapped up, but you’ll need to get with an orthopedic doctor. Once they MRI your knee, they’ll know what’s going on.”
“Thanks. Sounds like a plan,” Donovan said.
“Can I ask how you managed to get shot?”
“I had an unfortunate run-in with some looters,” Donovan replied, and then changed the subject. “You’re new to Eco-Watch, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir. I’m from Norfolk, Virginia. Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve always loved ships. I’d ride my bike down to the waterfront and sit and watch the harbor for hours. I still go down and look at the ships. When I saw my first Eco-Watch ship, I thought it looked cool, and it made me curious. I did some research and I knew where I needed to work.”
“That’s not a southern accent,” Donovan said. “Where are you from?”
“All over, actually,” Marcus said. “Most people hear the British accent, courtesy of my mother. My father is Egyptian. We traveled a lot when I was a kid, so I’ve assembled a multicultural collection of accents. I can curse in seven languages.”
“That’s excellent.” Donovan laughed, and was struck by the fact that it felt like it had been forever since he’d even smiled.
“What’s your specialty?” Donovan asked, knowing that the two men who doubled as paramedics on board had other special training.
“I was in the Navy for six years as an electrical engineer. I trained as a paramedic in Norfolk after I was out of the Navy.”
“Marcus, welcome aboard. It’s been a hell of a first cruise for the Buckley.”
“It’s exactly what I signed up for,” Marcus said as he finished dressing the wound and then wrapped Donovan’s knee tightly. “I’m glad we saved those people. I’ve followed Eco-Watch Marine since its inception, and helping people is the number one reason I wanted to be a part of the organization.”
“I can’t tell you how nice it is to hear you say that,” Donovan said. “It’s what I had in mind when I joined in on the creation of the company. I’m curious, of all the survivors we pulled off the wharf, what were the worst of the injuries?”
“I don’t think there were any serious injuries with that group. If there were, they would have been taken to the infirmary. What I saw here were people with bumps and bruises, some cuts and abrasions.”
“That’s good to hear,” Dono
van said. “I hope we can sway some public opinion, and get Dr. McKenna released.”
“Your speech was excellent. I think you reached them. What struck me today was talking with people who thought they were going to die, and didn’t, because of us. They were so thankful, almost apologetic for taking up my time. Even the last guy, who had the worst injury of the morning, was relieved to be alive. He asked me a ton of questions about the ship.”
“What was his injury?”
“He said he fell on a section of exposed rebar. I stitched up his arm and sent him to the infirmary for a tetanus shot and something for the pain. How is your pain level? I don’t have anything here stronger than Tylenol.”
Donovan was about to take Marcus up on some Tylenol when he stopped. “This guy with the rebar injury. What did he look like?”
“He was medium height, muscles, bald with a ton of tattoos, why?”
“Does a rebar injury look anything like a bullet wound?”
“Maybe,” Marcus said as his eyes turned serious. “Who is this guy?”
“The one who shot me.” Donovan sat up and swept his legs off the side of the table and let himself down to the floor. “Did you get his name?”
“He said everyone just calls him Jake. I can radio the bridge and have security converge on the infirmary.” Marcus peeled off his gloves and reached for a handheld radio on a shelf.
“No,” Donovan said. “He could have a radio as well. You sent him to the infirmary?”
“Yes, not five minutes before you arrived.”
“The woman who nearly drowned—she came in on the Eco-Watch helicopter. Is she still in there? Do you know who I’m talking about?”
“Yes, we were briefed on all the VIPs. You’re talking about Shannon, the girlfriend of the man this ship is named after, right?”
“Yes.”
“As far as I know, she’s still in the infirmary,” Marcus said. “Though, as other injuries came in, she may have been moved. I’ve been working in here, so I just don’t know.”
“If she’s still in there, she’s in trouble, and so is Michael Ross.” Donovan limped for the door. “I need to take him by surprise. Do you have anything I can use as a weapon?”
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