“Hello.” Lauren’s firm voice was amazingly clear despite the airborne connection.
“Hey you, it’s me.” Donovan smiled. He knew she’d checked the caller I.D. on her phone and hadn’t known who was calling. She was in “Dr.” mode.
“Where are you? Please tell me you’re about to land. It’s snowing so hard right now.”
“I should be there in less than an hour. Where are you?”
“I’m in the restaurant at the O’Hare Hilton having a cup of coffee. Do you want to just meet me here when you get in? From what I’ve seen of the terminal it’s probably a mess. I was tempted to reserve us a room.”
“Oh really. What have you got in mind?” Donovan said.
“Not that,” Lauren said, laughing easily “I’m worried we won’t be able to get down to Midway airport. I’ve talked to Michael, and he says the airplane is ready and we’ll be able to leave when we get there. It’s the roads I’m concerned about.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Chicago knows how to deal with a little snow. How was the conference? Were you brilliant as always?”
“It went fine. I’ll tell you all about it when you get here.” Lauren paused. “So, did you get everything finished?”
Donovan knew she was probing. He’d been rather vague as to why he’d needed to dash back to Washington. Donovan thought of the small triumph he’d pulled off just before he’d raced to Dulles airport to catch this flight. Earlier today, he’d signed the papers to buy a house that they’d looked at last weekend. It had been a warmer-than-usual winter Sunday, and the three of them had been out for a relaxing drive. As they’d wandered the tree-lined roads of northern Virginia, they found themselves in a tranquil sub-division with stately homes situated well back from the road. There was an open house in progress and on a whim they’d stopped and taken the tour. Lauren had fallen instantly in love with both the house and neighborhood. They’d talked about it and finally decided it was perfect, but when they’d called the realtor, they discovered that the house had already been sold. Lauren was heartbroken. It had taken Donovan nearly three days of negotiations to finally convince all parties to drop the deal so he could purchase the house. Thankfully, he hadn’t had to use any assets from the huge fortune he controlled; one of the keys to his secret existence was to hide what amounted to one of the largest personal fortunes in the world. While expensive, the house would just fit in with his and Lauren’s known combined income, and no eyebrows would be raised. It would be his wedding present to Lauren. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he told her what he’d accomplished. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
“You haven’t got anything else better to do at the moment. Later we might be too busy to talk.”
“Nice try.”
“That’s right. Leave me hanging, mister—and maybe all you’ll be doing later is talking.”
Donovan glanced up as someone emerged from first class. He stiffened as Audrey Parrish swept aside the curtain. She slowly worked her way down the aisle, glancing at the seated passengers. It would only be a matter of seconds before she reached him.
“Donovan, are you there?” Lauren asked. “Can you hear me?”
“I’m here,” Donovan whispered. “There’s someone on this flight I used to know—from before.”
“Oh no. Who is it? Is there any chance they might recognize you?”
“I can’t say much right now.” Donovan kept his voice low. “She just came out of first class and she’s coming this way.”
“You’re in coach?” Lauren’s said, her voice filled with disbelief.
“Yeah,” Donovan admitted. “It was the only way to avoid her.”
“Don’t you think the chance of her recognizing you after all these years is pretty remote—especially after all the changes that have taken place?”
“We’re about to find out.” Donovan shifted the phone to his other ear to help block his face. Audrey seemed to be taking in each passenger as she walked by. Donovan turned and looked out the window. The thunderstorms were far closer now.
“Donovan. What’s happening?” Lauren said.
“Nothing. I’m fine and I miss you,” Donovan replied.
“Is she gone yet?”
Donovan was about to reply, but he was distracted as several passengers on the right side of the plane began pointing frantically out the window. Others moved across the aisle to see what was happening outside. Murmurs suddenly turned to cries of alarm.
Donovan felt nothing wrong with the plane. He leaned forward to look outside at the wing and right engine. Everything seemed fine. Then, impossibly close, he caught sight of a dark shape bearing down on them. Another plane was in and out of the clouds, appearing only briefly, but he recognized it as a military KC-135 tanker.
Donovan’s practiced eye told him instantly they were on a deadly collision course. “Oh my God,” he whispered, bracing himself for the evasive maneuver he was sure the pilots were about to make. His muscles tensed, but neither plane made any attempt to avoid the other.
“Donovan! What’s going on?”
“Everyone sit down!” one of the flight attendants yelled from behind him.
Donovan looked up at Audrey. She was standing next to him, her attention locked on the growing chaos in the cabin.
“There’s another airplane—I think we’re going to hit.” Terror swept through him as he realized there was no way the two planes were going to miss. The unthinkable was about to happen. Every pilot feared a mid-air collision. It was one of the few things you were powerless to stop no matter how good you were. Driven by a surge of adrenaline, and in a desperate attempt to do something, anything, he reached out and grabbed Audrey by the wrist and yanked her down into the empty seat next to him. Her small scream of protest was drowned out by the cries of the other passengers.
“Donovan, talk to me!”
Lauren’s voice seemed to fade away—he didn’t know what to say, there were no words to tell the woman he wanted to marry that he was going to die. All of his carefully thought-out plans for their future were now pointless. After all the times he’d risked death in the cockpit, he was going to die in the back of a plane—as a passenger.
Donovan dropped the phone, gripped Audrey’s arm and held her in place. He stared helplessly as the KC-135 bore down on them. He found small bitter comfort in the realization that at least he wouldn’t die alone.
CHAPTER TWO
Lauren McKenna’s hands began to shake as she stared at her phone. The signal had been lost. Tears formed in her eyes and a giant void built in her chest and begin to spread. She fought the impulse to jump up and cry out that there’d been a plane crash—that the love of her life had died as she’d listened. Her breaths came in sharp jagged gulps.
“You’re a scientist,” she whispered, trying to get control of herself. “Deep steady breaths.” Lauren blinked through her tears and managed to gather herself enough to sift through the numbers programmed into her cell phone. She needed to find Michael.
Michael was across town at Midway Airport. He’d stayed to oversee some repairs to the Galileo II. The plan was for her to call Michael as soon as Donovan’s plane landed so Michael could start getting the Gulfstream ready for departure. Michael was the number two man at Eco-Watch, as well as Donovan’s closest friend. Lauren loved Michael like a brother. As the phone began to ring Lauren closed her eyes and willed Michael to answer.
“Hello,” came Michael’s usual upbeat voice.
“Michael, it’s Lauren.” Her throat threatened to close off as she battled her emotions.
“You guys about here? We need to leave this winter-wonderland behind before we’re stuck here until spring.”
“Michael—there’s been a—” Lauren swallowed hard and gazed up at the ceiling. “Donovan’s plane…I think maybe something happened to Donovan’s plane.”
“What!” Michael’s tone changed immediately. “What happened? What do you mean?”
“He called me
from the airplane.” Lauren spoke in a rush of words. “We were talking when all of the sudden I could hear screams in the background. When I asked him what was wrong all he told me was that there was another airplane—that he thought they were going to hit. Then I lost the connection.”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m in the restaurant at the O’Hare Hilton.”
“Okay, we’re not going to find out anything with you there. I think you should go to the Wayfarer ticket counter and find someone in charge, anyone who will listen to you. Do whatever it takes to get their attention—make them talk to you.”
“I will.” A sense of purpose began to flow through Lauren’s body. At least she had a plan. Anything was preferable to just sitting and quietly falling apart.
“I’ll call you the second I find out anything firm and you do the same. And Lauren, I want you to understand that it’s virtually impossible for two airplanes to collide. There are multiple systems in place to keep that from happening. Too many things would have to fail for that to be a reality. So don’t dwell on the worst quite yet, okay?”
“I’ll try not to. I’m headed for the terminal now. I’ll talk to you in a little bit.”
“I’m on my way,” Michael said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. When I’m close, I’ll call so I know where to find you.”
“Please hurry.” Lauren ended the call and quickly gathered her things. She put some bills on the table and left the hotel. Snow swirled and billowed against the large plate glass windows. If anything, it was beginning to come down even harder than when she was talking to Donovan.
As she made her way through the underground tunnel that connected the hotel to the terminal, Lauren’s thoughts whirled in her head as she thought of their upcoming wedding. It was scheduled for the following Saturday in Florida. Lauren thought of their daughter Abigail, and suddenly she felt like she might be sick. She was finally forced to stop in the underground walkway. She leaned against the cold brick wall. Her world was shattering and she didn’t know how to make it stop. Lauren couldn’t help but question the reasons that Donovan was even on the airliner in the first place. Their usual mode of transportation was aboard one of Eco-Watch’s Gulfstream jets. She, Donovan and Michael Ross had just finished the acceptance flights on the new Gulfstream in Dallas. The Galileo II had been delivered less than a week ago. It was a hurried replacement for the first Galileo that was now lying at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. The plan had been to drop her off in Chicago, and then Donovan and Michael were to fly on to Dulles. She was supposed to travel home on a commercial flight after the conference. But upon landing at Midway Airport, the new airplane had lost a hydraulic pump. With the jet grounded, Donovan had flown back to Washington to take care of some Eco-Watch business. Lauren choked back her tears. If the Galileo II hadn’t been grounded, it would be her on a commercial flight from Chicago to Washington. Donovan would be waiting for her there—none of this would be happening.
“Excuse me, miss. Are you okay?”
Lauren turned and discovered an elderly gentleman with kind eyes standing next to her.
“Yes,” Lauren lied. “Thank you. I just needed to stop for a moment.”
“These airports are so confusing, plus they make us walk awfully far sometimes. Which way are you headed?”
“I’m fine. Really, I’m just going up to the Wayfarer ticket counter. I know the way. It’s not much further.”
“Okay, I hope your flight isn’t affected by the weather. Have a good day.”
Lauren watched as the man shuffled away. She forced herself to start walking until she located the escalators that would take her up into terminal three. As she neared the top of the rise, the noise level began to increase steadily. Five steps before the end and she could finally see across the large, high-ceilinged room. To her horror, hundreds of people stood, queued in lines that snaked back and forth across the tiled floor. It would take her forever to reach the Wayfarer ticket agents. Frantically, Lauren scanned the crowd for someone who might help her.
Through the crowd Lauren spotted a Wayfarer agent. The woman stood, unsmiling next to the entry point to one of the impossibly long lines. She seemed to be answering questions while directing passengers to different lines. Lauren could hear the woman’s voice carry above the fray. Lauren zigzagged through the crowd until she reached the woman.
“I need to talk to a supervisor,” Lauren said.
“What seems to be the problem?” the woman replied calmly, as she gave Lauren the once-over.
“Something may have happened to one of your airplanes,” Lauren whispered, not wanting to be overheard and start a panic. “I was talking to my fiancé, he’s aboard—.”
“Not here,” The agent hissed, then put her hand on Lauren’s arm and escorted her to an empty area near the large windows. The agent turned and stood toe-to-toe with Lauren. “Now, slowly, tell me what it is you think you know?”
“Like I said, I was talking with my fiancé, he’s a passenger aboard one of your flights. Before we were cut off, he told me there was another airplane and that they were going to hit. I need to find out if that airplane is still flying.”
“Security!” The woman called out. She waved her arm to get a uniformed guard’s attention. She spun back and clamped her hand around Lauren’s wrist to keep her from walking away.
Lauren yanked her arm from the woman’s grasp. “I need you to listen to me!”
“Stay right where you are!” the agent said.
Lauren wrestled with her emotions, a part of her wanted to run—find someone who would help her. Another part knew she’d said the wrong thing and wouldn’t get very far. From the alarmed expression on the face of the agent, Lauren understood she was being perceived as a threat. Over the agent’s shoulder, Lauren spotted a Chicago policeman as he weaved through the crowd, his eyes locked on Lauren and a hand on the butt of his sidearm.
A cold rush of air enveloped her and she turned and saw an airline pilot, luggage in tow, hurrying through the door to escape the harsh elements outside. His leather jacket was covered with snow. He still had his head down against the wind as he strode purposefully into the terminal. Lauren searched for the emblem affixed to his cap. She saw the gold braid on the bill that identified him as a captain. It took her a moment, but she finally recognized the distinctive logo of Wayfarer Airlines.
“Captain,” Lauren said. “I need to speak with you.”
“I beg your pardon.” The pilot stopped, glanced at her and the agent and then stepped aside as he prepared to move around her.
“I need you to listen to me!” Lauren said with as much force as she dared. She realized she must sound like a madwoman.
“Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to keep your voice down.” The female agent was growing even more agitated. She motioned for Security to hurry.
The policeman’s fast approach would give her only a few more seconds. She read the pilot’s name from the security badge hanging from his neck. His name was David Tucker.
“Captain Tucker. One of your airplanes might have crashed,” Lauren said quietly. “I need your help.”
“Who are you?” Tucker eyed her warily. “What do you know about a crash?”
“I was talking to my fiancé, who is on a flight from Washington D.C.” Lauren leveled a dead-serious glare at Tucker; she had to convince him that what she was telling him was true. “He said there was another airplane, and that they were going to hit. He’s a professional pilot and I trust what he was telling me.”
“Officer,” the agent gushed the moment the policeman was within earshot. “This woman came up to me and told me that we might have a problem with one of our airplanes.”
“Let me explain,” Lauren said. “I was talking to a passenger on flight—.”
“Did you tell her there’s a problem with a plane?” the cop interrupted.
“Yes,” Lauren said. The policeman stood there, looking her up and down, as if trying to gauge how much o
f a threat she might be. She exhaled heavily. This situation was going nowhere fast. “I have reason to believe one of Wayfarer’s planes is in trouble. I’m just trying to find out what’s happened.”
“I want everyone to calm down,” the cop said. “I need to see your I.D.”
“I’d be happy to,” Lauren said. She opened her purse under the watchful eye of the cop and produced her Defense Intelligence Agency badge. She flipped it open. Though now technically only a consultant, she was still one of the DIA’s top meteorological analysts.
The cop examined her credentials and carefully compared the pictures. He stepped away and spoke softly into the microphone strapped to the shoulder of his vest.
Code Black Page 2