“Thank you.” Donovan gently handed Abigail back to Lauren. “Susan, let’s go see what the doctor has to say.”
“Boys, I’ll be right back.” Susan said.
“We want to come,” Patrick said.
“Not this time,” Susan said. “Donovan and I need to talk to the doctor first. Afterward, you can see your dad.”
“We’ll be good,” Billy pleaded.
“I know you will, sweetie. I’ll be right back.” Susan followed Donovan’s lead.
Once they were halfway down the corridor, Susan put her hand out and stopped him. “Tell me what in the hell happened while we were gone, and I mean everything!”
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of the boys. Someone tried to shoot Michael, someone connected to what happened last night.”
Her eyes filled with tears of disbelief as what Donovan was telling her registered. “Someone tried to kill him? Here?”
Donovan nodded.
“Oh my God.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Did they catch the guy?”
“Yeah, they got him.”
Susan shook her head in anger and disbelief as she hurried to be with her husband. A nurse was waiting at the door to steer them into the room, but not before Susan took a peek into the room across the hall. The body was still there, and Susan stopped abruptly and turned toward Donovan. “Were you with him when it happened?”
“I slowed the guy down long enough for the FBI to arrive. They did the rest.”
Donovan eased Susan forward, moving her into her husband’s room.
“Doctor,” Susan went to Michael’s side and placed his hand inside hers, “is my husband okay, can we take him home?”
“As far as I can tell it appears he suffered no ill effects from the earlier incident. But it’s far too soon to think about releasing him.”
Donovan stepped into the conversation. “Doctor, it’s now in Michael’s best interest to be transported back to Virginia as soon as possible. His safety, as well as everyone else’s, is in jeopardy here. Is he physically able to make the trip?”
“That depends on several factors,” Richardson replied. “How would this transport be made?”
“Chartered jet.”
“What facility are you transferring him to?”
“A level one trauma center in Virginia—the flight time from here to there would be around two hours,” Donovan said, not wanting to divulge any more information than was necessary.
“I’d not recommend it—not for another twenty-four hours. That said, if his safety is in question, it could be done under the correct supervisory care.” Richardson rubbed his chin as he thought. “There are a few medevac services around that can facilitate the type of transport he’d need. I’m talking a fully equipped medical transport aircraft staffed with the appropriate personnel.”
“We’re in the process of making those arrangements,” Donovan said. “But before you go, after what happened earlier, I’d like this conversation to stay between us. Let’s don’t advertise to anyone what we’re doing or where we’re going.”
“I understand.” Richardson nodded. “I’ll fill out the release and transfer paperwork leaving the destination blank. It’ll be at the nurses’ station when you’re ready to leave.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Susan said. “Do you think we can we get Michael somewhere where his boys can see him, without having to be in this particular hallway?”
“Of course. I’m sure there’s an empty room in a different corridor,” the doctor said. “I’ll see to it right away.”
Donovan’s cell phone sounded. He looked at the caller ID and saw a 212 area code. He stepped toward the window before he answered.
“Donovan Nash.”
“Mr. Nash. Howard Buckley here, it’s been a while.”
“Buck, good to hear from you, thanks for getting back to me so quickly.”
“Well, your little group there at Eco-Watch does seem to have some pull. General Porter just called and asked me to give you a ring. He wanted me to render whatever assistance you need. What’s up?”
“How much did General Porter tell you?”
“Only that you’re flying Michael Ross in from Florida, where I’m told he’s been shot.”
“Yeah, that was yesterday. Another attempt was made on his life in the hospital today. He’s not in great shape, but the doctors said he could be transported. We should land at Dulles airport by late this afternoon. We’re taking him to Fairfax County Hospital. I’d feel better if he were being protected by people I know and trust.”
“Consider it done,” Buck replied. “I’ll personally meet you at the Eco-Watch hangar. I’ll need an ETA and the tail number of the charter. Plus full access to Eco-Watch as well as the Ross residence.”
“I’ll make those arrangements. There’ll be two aircraft. A dedicated medevac flight with Michael and his family aboard. They’re your primary responsibility. There will also be a second chartered aircraft for myself and my family.”
“Do you need to be under this protective umbrella as well?”
“Yeah, but Michael and his family are the priority.”
“Got it, but it’s going to be expensive,” Buck added. “The men I have in mind are all former SEALs. I trust them with my life, but the best doesn’t come cheap.”
“Do whatever needs to be done.” Donovan truly liked this man. He was a no-nonsense, results-oriented professional. “Money is no object—whatever it takes.”
“I look forward to seeing you again, Mr. Nash. Thanks for thinking of me. I’ll be standing by for the information I need.”
“You’ll either hear from me or my assistant, Peggy, within the hour.”
“I’ll be ready at this end,” Buck said and severed the connection.
“Donovan!” Susan said the moment Donovan pocketed his phone. “What are you thinking? I doubt our health insurance will pick up the tab for chartered planes and private security.”
Donovan wrapped his arm around her shoulder to comfort her, secure in the knowledge that a myriad of problems went away if you threw enough money at them. “Don’t worry. William does have that kind of money. He told me to do whatever it takes, and that’s exactly what we’re doing.”
CHAPTER TEN
With a police escort leading the way, both the ambulance with Michael and his family and Donovan’s limousine with Lauren, Abigail, and William were waved through the airport perimeter gate. Donovan felt relieved when he saw both chartered jets. The preparations had taken longer than Donovan had expected, plus he’d gotten hung up giving his statement to the FBI about the shooting. As angry as he was about what Montero had done, he decided the last thing he needed to do was get into a pissing match with the FBI. He also had no real proof of her eavesdropping, and the end result was she’d saved both his and Michael’s lives. With that behind him, he’d rounded everyone up and they’d finally gotten free of the hospital. Once they got Michael loaded aboard the air ambulance, he could start putting some distance between himself and Special Agent Montero.
It seemed like days since he and Michael had landed in Boca Raton, but it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours. In a hangar across the ramp Donovan spotted the Spirit of da Vinci. Donovan resisted the temptation to go over and inquire about its status. Kyle was on his way down, and he’d get a full report soon enough.
The procession was escorted out to the waiting jets by airport police, and Michael was very carefully transferred aboard the Lear-jet 60. The medical flight team, which consisted of a doctor and trauma nurse, transferred Michael’s electrical leads and IV tubes to the monitoring equipment inside the plane. According to Peggy, this was the most well-equipped, highly recommended medevac service on the East Coast. Michael would be in excellent hands.
Once Michael was stabilized, Susan and the boys said goodbye and were shown their seats in the front of the jet. Donovan waved as the door was closed and he made his way to the Gulfstream that William had reserved for their trip.
Donovan pulled out his cell phone. He needed to make one quick phone call before they got underway. Donovan dialed EcoWatch’s direct line, and Peggy picked up on the second ring.
“Peggy, it’s me.”
“How’s Michael doing? Are you about to leave?”
“He’s the same. They’re taxiing out now. We should be wheels up shortly. I’ve already texted Buck with the ETA for Michael’s flight.”
“Buck and I’ve spoken a number of times in the last hour. He’s assured me he’s all set.”
“Good work. Hey, we also discovered that Michael’s keys, wallet, and cell phone are missing. Don’t do anything about the phone, or the credit cards, the authorities think maybe someone will be stupid enough to try and use them. I do, however, want us to get all the locks changed at Michael’s house. Get the best locksmith you can find and have everything billed to Eco-Watch.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“One more thing, I need you to contact Captain Pittman on the Atlantic Titan. We had the ship and crew blocked out for two weeks to be our eyes on the surface as we flew this latest NASA mission. With da Vinci out of service, and the control module for the new high-resolution camera a smoking chunk of metal, we need to reschedule everything. Do you know the Titan’s current position?”
“They just checked in with me not twenty minutes ago. The Atlantic Titan is currently southeast of Jamaica, heading up through the Windward Passage between Cuba and Haiti. They said they may be delayed by some heavy weather moving in from the northwest.”
“That’s the line of weather we had here last night. Tell him no hurry. When he can steam north, we’ll make a decision. He can think about delaying in Key West or Miami.”
“I’ll pass along the message. Anything else?”
Donovan spotted William walking briskly out of the passenger lounge, a sheaf of papers rolled up in his hand. “That’s all. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you soon.” He ended the call, ran down the steps, and met William on the ramp.
“I have a little light reading for us on the trip home.” William held up the papers. “An old friend of mine is a senior partner with a Miami Beach law firm. He faxed me a dossier they’d compiled on Montero. At first glance it’s fairly detailed.”
“Good work,” Donovan said. “I talked with Peggy and Buck. They’ll be waiting for us at the other end.”
“I made a call to the charter company,” William said. “This aircraft is being put at our disposal, it’ll be on twenty-four standby for a trip to Europe until we tell them otherwise. I called Stephanie. She sends her love and, of course, said you’re welcome day or night.”
Donovan nodded, thankful that his old friend was on top of things. After they climbed the steps into the waiting airplane, Donovan put his hand on William’s right shoulder and gently squeezed, sending an unspoken message of appreciation.
The effects of his sleepless night were dragging him down. Donovan looked forward to trying to catch a nap on the flight home. Abigail, the only member of the entourage who was smiling, sat on Lauren’s lap, her face pressed against the inside of the window. She was happily waving goodbye to Florida.
The captain hurried up the stairs and stuck his head into the cabin. “We’re all buttoned up and ready to go.”
“How’s the weather between here and there?” Donovan asked. Like most pilots, he made for a lousy passenger.
“The front that pushed through last night cleared everything out. It’s a perfect day to fly.”
Donovan settled into a forward-facing seat across from Lauren. Abigail immediately wriggled off her mother’s lap and lunged toward Donovan. He lifted her up and placed her on his lap where she could continue to look out of the wide, oval window. He and his daughter had made many trips to the airport together and easily fell into their routine when they were around airplanes.
“Bye, bye.” Abigail waved at no one in particular. She puffed up her cheeks and blew the air out of her lips. Donovan smiled at his daughter’s antics, mimicking the sound of a jet, though if the truth were told she sounded more like a motorboat. He began pointing at different airplanes and in return Abigail would come up with a sound and wave. Donovan loved these shared moments with Abigail, but he also couldn’t help but notice that Lauren wasn’t smiling—in fact she’d been quiet most of the afternoon.
Up front, the door swung closed. The flight attendant locked it into place and then introduced herself as Sarah. She instructed everyone to find a seatbelt, and then asked if she could bring them anything before they got underway. Anxious to get airborne, everyone declined.
From thousands of hours flying Gulfstreams, Donovan’s practiced ear listened for the subtle clues they were about to start the engines. What he didn’t expect to hear was someone pounding on the outside of the airplane.
The flight attendant got up, went to the cockpit, and spoke briefly with the flight crew. She returned to the entryway, shrugged at Donovan, and began to lower the main door. Donovan slid Abigail off his lap and handed her to Lauren.
“What’s going on?” Donovan asked as the door opened and began to unfold on its way down.
“Someone wants to talk to us,” Sarah replied.
As the door continued its downward arc, Donovan swore under his breath. Special Agent Montero was standing on the tarmac looking up at him.
His anger building, Donovan stomped down the steps and placed himself squarely between Montero and the Gulfstream.
“What do you want?”
Montero remained silent. She simply pulled two folded sheets of paper out the pocket of her blazer and handed them over.
He unfolded the papers. His eyes immediately shot to the grainy, black-and-white photo of the man he used to be. The passive expression of Robert Huntington’s mug shot stared back at him. The second page held two photos. One was taken years ago, a picture of Robert Huntington and William VanGelder, just after Meredith was killed. Printed just below was another picture of William and him taken a few years ago at an Eco-Watch function. In a direct comparison, the commonality was there for someone who was looking. He felt his chest deflate as he glanced up at Montero’s knowing expression.
“Good, at least we don’t have to go through that whole denial thing,” Montero said. “You’re him.”
Donovan felt the blood draining from his face. There was no use acting as if these photos meant nothing. It was time to shift to damage control. “How many people have seen this?”
“So far, just me. You can keep those, I have more.”
Donovan fought the impulse to turn away from her and board the jet, to walk away from this woman and the unbridled chaos she was going to unleash.
“What do you want?”
“I want your help,” she said. “I need someone with your resources to help me find the people I’m looking for, who are also the people who shot your friend. I’ll explain everything later.”
“There is no later.”
“Get your things,” Montero tilted her head to the side. “Because I’m guessing you’d rather I not go to the media?”
“Wait right here.” Donovan spun and walked up the stairs where he stopped and quietly asked Sarah to retrieve his suitcase. He wasn’t going with them. He knelt on the carpet next to Lauren and kissed her on the lips and transferred the sheets of paper from his hand to hers.
Lauren blinked with surprise and then slumped as sh
e processed the look in his eyes. She unfolded the first page, then the second one.
“I have to stay,” he whispered to her. “Don’t leave the country just yet. Let me feel this out first. She says she wants my help. Tell the others I’m staying to help with the investigation.”
Lauren pursed her lips and nodded that she understood. Abigail, detecting the mood shift in her mother, started to fuss and immediately clung to her.
Donovan leaned down and kissed his daughter and his wife and then turned to William. “Take care of them.”
Lauren stroked Abigail’s hair and fixed her brilliant green eyes on Donovan. In a hushed but serious voice, she said, “Fix this.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Take the battery out of your cell phone,” Montero ordered. “I don’t want anyone to be able to track us.”
Donovan did what he was told. He sat in the passenger seat of Montero’s red, 3 Series BMW convertible. She eased into traffic on northbound I-95. She drove fast, but not reckless. Lauren’s words echoed in his mind, but he had no clear idea what the fix was.
“You know, I suspected from the moment I saw your mug shot—your former mug shot,” Montero said. “Your eyes and your confidence—you reminded me of him. I studied Meredith’s case in college, so I know your old face well. Then there’s the fact that you’re both pilots. When I met Mr. VanGelder at the hospital, I knew for sure. I’ll admit it was a pretty surreal moment. In fact I’m still trying to get my head around the fact I’m sitting next to the Robert Huntington.”
“You’ll get over it. Where are we going?” Donovan studied her as she drove. Whatever formalities she’d observed earlier as a federal agent were apparently long gone. He tried to imagine what forces were at work for her to resort to blackmail, and the only reason that came up was the usual one—money.
“I’ll get to that in a minute. But first we need to agree on some ground rules. I’m on administrative leave, which means I’ve officially been hung out to dry. I can’t actively pursue any investigation. You and I are hanging out together because you’re indebted to me for saving your life.”
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