His pronouncement galvanized the entire Pegasus cadre. Dave Scott jumped in with confirmation that he'd prepped the craft for departure and had it ready to fly. Kate added that she could program in the current weather patterns en route and take them around the worst of the storm. Jill, ever conscious of her responsibilities as chief of security for Pegasus, issued a quick caution.
"We're talking about flying a multimillion-dollar prototype vehicle into howling, gale-force winds. We should obtain Captain Westfall's concurrence before we put the vehicle at risk."
"Get him on a secure line," Mac bit out. "Now!"
They tracked him to his hotel in Washington. Jill's call dragged Captain Westfall from a sound sleep. Succinctly, she explained the situation and requested his concurrence to include Pegasus as part of the multiservice rescue operation. She flipped her cell phone shut a few moments later with a tight, satisfied smile.
"He says to get our butts in gear and Pegasus in the air."
Cari's admiration for the lean, taciturn naval officer kicked up another notch. He shouldered overall responsibility for the Pegasus project, had invested months of his life and countless hours of sleep attempting to shake the last of the bugs out of the prototype. Yet he didn't hesitate to give them the green light and send his baby into harm's way once more.
"Okay, people," Mac snapped. "Let's move it."
After a fast detour to their on-base quarters to retrieve their gear and scramble into uniforms, the team raced to the hangar the navy had turned over to house Pegasus until its flight home. Dave had called ahead to the ground crew. The crew had Pegasus prepped and preflighted when the team arrived at the hangar. Moments later, a coast guard truck came screeching up with a harness sling.
Every member of the crew donned inflatable life vests and climbed aboard. Kate settled into the cockpit beside Dave and maintained a direct link to the National Weather Service throughout the turbulent flight. As promised, she directed the pilot around the worst of the storm, but even on the perimeter the winds were still so strong they whipped the craft around in the sky.
Forty stomach-twisting minutes later, Dave got a radar lock on the fishing boat. Struggling with the controls, he throttled back, tilted the engines and took Pegasus from forward flight to hover mode. Instead of flying into the winds, the craft was now at their mercy. They slammed Pegasus from what seemed like a dozen different directions at once. Sweating, straining, Dave fought to keep the wildly bucking craft in position over the boat. Everyone aboard held their breath until he raised the boat's captain on an emergency frequency.
"They see our lights," he informed those in the rear, shouting into his mike to be heard above the screaming winds. "The captain says we got here just in time. They're taking on water, fast."
"What about Paulo?" Mac yelled into the mike. "Is he okay?"
"Roger that. I'm going to raise the hatch. Make sure all lifelines are secure."
They took the warning seriously. Without the harnesses securing them to lines hooked into ringbolts in the bulkhead, they might well be sucked out into the maelstrom. Mac got a thumbs-up from the other three and confirmed their ready status.
"All secure!"
When the side hatch slid up, hell poured in. Rain lashed through the rear compartment. Wind ricocheted off the bulkheads and slammed into every im-moveable object. Pegasus bucked wildly again, gyrating through the sky while Dave fought to compensate for the now gaping hole in the side of his craft.
For a few terrifying seconds, Cari's worst nightmare came back to haunt her. Only this time they weren't skimming along a green river with an enemy patrol boat on their tails. This time, they were suspended above a crashing sea, tossed around like a toy by nature's most malevolent forces.
The stomach-twisting fear was the same, though, as was the desperate realization that the odds were against them. She allowed herself one, throat-closing glimpse through the hatch at the boat wallowing in the vicious seas below. There was one instant of liquid panic before she spotted the crew scattered across the deck, clinging desperately to lifelines.
Then her mind snapped into focus. Eyes narrowed to slits against the stinging rain, she searched the deck until she spotted a small figure huddled against the forward bulkhead. Like the others, Paulo was bundled into a bulky life jacket and tethered to a lifeline to keep from being swept overboard.
Her heart lurched, but she forced back her suffocating fear for the boy and reminded herself she was an officer in the U.S. Coast Guard. Years of command kicked in. Training and experience took over. Her gloved hand went to the lever that operated the Survivor Retrieval System.
"I'm activating the SRS," she bellowed into the mike. "Advise the crew of the Star to watch for the lead and try to hook it in."
While Cari extracted the firing tube and primed it, Jill and Doc checked to make sure the weighted lead was securely attached to the lightweight but almost indestructible nylon rope.
"Stand clear!"
The other two scrambled back. Cari braced herself as best she could in the open hatch. Rain slashed at her face. Wind whipped her hair into her eyes. Eyes narrowed to slits, arms extended, heart pounding, she aimed at a patch of boiling sea beyond the bow of the boat.
The weighted lead exploded out of the tube and shot through the air. For a wild, joyous moment, Cari thought she'd calculated the force and direction of the winds exactly right.
What she couldn't factor into her calculations was the capriciousness of the storm. The lead was still sailing through the swirling gray clouds when the wind suddenly shifted. A blast came out of the west, knocked Pegasus sideways and would have tossed everyone in the rear compartment onto their butts if not for their lifelines. When Cari got her feet under her again, she saw the lead had hit well aft of the boat.
With a vicious curse, she slammed the system into Reverse and reeled the lead back in. While she loaded another cartridge into the firing tube, Mac went down on one knee and coiled the wet, snaking rope to keep it from tangling when it shot out again.
It took four desperate tries to land the line within a few yards of the Aransas Star. Almost sobbing with relief, Cari watched the life-jacketed figures aboard the boat hook the line and drag it in.
It took only a few seconds to attach the rope to the flexible steel cable wound around the winch, a few more to make sure the rescue sling was securely attached to the cable. Once that was done, Cari hit the switch to deploy the hoist.
The moveable arm swung out. Another flick of the switch released the winch. Its gears sang as cable played out and the rescue sling plunged downward. Below, the crew of the Star frantically hauled on the nylon lead rope to guide the sling onto the deck.
As much as she wanted to take Paulo off first, Cari knew he needed to see how the hoist worked, had to understand that he should keep his arms locked to his side and the harness tight around his chest.
"Tell them to send up one of the crew first," Cari shouted to Dave via the intercom.
He didn't question her decision. The radio crackled with static as he relayed the order. Almost blinded by the sheeting rain, Cari hung on to her lifeline and leaned out of the hatch to watch while one of the crewmen scrambled into the harness.
He was still yanking on the chest straps when the Star plunged into a trough and the deck dropped out from under him. He dangled like a puppet above the boat, spinning in the wind.
Cari shoved the SRS into Reverse and brought him up. When he was level with the hatch, she swung the retrieval arm in. Doc caught the man's arm, Jill one of his legs. The moment they had him free of the sling, Cari swung the arm out again.
Her heart jumped into her throat when she looked down and saw the Aransas Star's decks were almost completely awash. The crashing waves had knocked the slicker-clad figures off their feet. They whipped back and forth through the frothing water at the ends of their lifelines, as helpless as the tuna they hooked on their fishing lines. Cari didn't breathe until she spotted Paulo among the frothing water.
Praying the boy understood what he had to do, she shouted into her mike.
"Tell them to send Paulo up next!"
"Roger."
Mac shortened his lifeline and fought the winds at the open hatch. His jaw clenched so tight the bones ground together. He'd served two combat tours, first in Afghanistan, then in Iraq. He'd seen men go down, had heard their screams as bullets ripped into them. The icy, controlled terror of combat didn't compare to the fear that ripped into him now.
Paulo was so small, so thin. If he lifted his arms, if he wiggled or twisted too much, he could slip right out of that harness.
Mac knew Cari had already considered and discarded the only other option—having one of the other crewmen strap himself in and bring the boy up with him. The savage wind could tear the kid right out of the man's arms.
Mac's heart hammered as two crewmen staggered across the deck toward the boy. They dragged him to his feet. Buckled on the harness. Unhooked his lifeline. Waved to the wildly gyrating craft.
"Hang on, kid. Hang on. Hang on."
Mac repeated the low, fierce litany with every turn of the winch. He could see the boy rise foot by foot. His dark hair was plastered to his skull, his face chalk-white above his orange life vest.
Cari's gloved fist hovered over the switch that would swing the retrieval arm inward. Mac was just letting himself believe they'd get the boy aboard when a brutal downdraft slammed into Pegasus. The craft nosedived, spiraling straight down. The steep drop knocked Jill and Cari off balance. Doc threw himself over the rescued crewman to keep him from crashing into the forward bulkhead. Mac stayed upright by sheer force of will and an iron grip on his lifeline.
His heart stopping, he saw the waves reach up and swallow the small figure at the end of the cable. Paulo went under, popped up and was dragged through one crashing wall of water after another.
Dave brought the nose up mere seconds later, but before he could regain altitude another wave smashed into Paulo. When the towering wave rolled past, the harness was empty.
Mac didn't hesitate, didn't give his injured shoulder so much as a single thought. Whipping down his good arm, he unsnapped his lifeline.
A heartbeat later he plunged into the sea.
Chapter 15
Mac sank into a deep trough. He'd no sooner hit than a towering, eighty-foot wave smashed down on top of him. The brutal force drove him downward. So hard, the violence sucked a boot right off his foot. So deep, he couldn't tell top from bottom. So far, his lungs were bursting by the time the vicious wave rolled past and his life jacket brought him popping to the surface.
The massive swells batted at him, battered him, tossed him from side to side. Gritting his teeth, Mac kicked and twisted and rode the violent swells until he spotted Paulo's orange life vest not ten yards away. The steel cable dragged the water just beyond him.
Mac twisted onto his side and buried his bad shoulder in the water. Scissor-kicking, he used his good arm to battle through the swells.
"Paulo!"
The wind flung his shout back in his face. With it came a mouth full of salt water. Spitting, cursing, kicking with every ounce of strength he possessed, Mac cut through the last few yards and got a fist on the back of the boy's vest.
Frantic, Paulo squirmed around and grabbed his rescuer with both hands just above the biceps. As the force of the sea tried to separate them, he clung desperately to Mac's bad arm. Agony knifed through him. The white-capped waves and raging sea blurred. The pain paralyzed him. For an instant, maybe two, his mind and body froze. Teeth grinding, he forced back the black haze.
"Put your arms around my neck."
He had to shout the instruction in the boy's ear to be heard over the snarl of wind and sea.
"Paulo! Climb up and wrap your arms around my neck!"
His dark eyes dilated with terror, the boy crawled up Mac's chest and locked his arms.
"Now kick," Mac yelled. "Kick hard!"
Sandwiched together by the brutal force of the waves, they fought their way to the cable.
Cari watched the life-and-death struggle from above. Every stroke was a desperate prayer, every pulverizing wave stabbed her agonizing hope in the heart. On the far side of the hatch Cody and Jill stood ready to unhook their lifelines and jump in. If Mac and Paulo went under once more, just once, one of them would hit the water. All the while, Dave sweated and strained to keep Pegasus in a hover.
"A few more feet," Cari muttered, her throat raw. "Just a few feet."
She had to time this exactly right. Her hand trembled over the switch while Mac rode the crest of a wave toward the cable. When he was a body length away, Cari hit Reverse. The winch whirred, the cable retracted, and the harness sling rose from the angry green depths. As soon as it broke the surface, she slammed her fist on the switch to halt the winch.
The harness sling dangled just feet from Mac's face. Calling on reserves he wasn't sure he had, he jackknifed his body and propelled forward. He thrust his good arm through the sling, wrestled it over his head, but wasn't about to let Paulo loosen his death grip so he could shimmy the rest of his body into it and attempt to buckle the harness one-handed. Locking the boy against his chest with his good arm, he jerked his head back.
"Bring us up!"
His hoarse bellow got lost in the wind, but Cari was watching and waiting for his signal. Mac saw the cable go taut, felt the sling dig into his armpit.
When they cleared the roiling surface, the wind set them twisting and swinging like a pendulum. The sea leaped up, crashed around them, tried to devour them yet again. With a whimper of sheer terror, Paulo buried his face in Mac's neck.
The boy's weight dragged at him. The sling felt as though it was slicing him in half. His shoulder was a fireball of pain. Mac blanked his mind to everything but the need to keep his good arm locked around the kid.
Then they cleared the hatch, Cari swung the hoist arm in and anxious hands reached out.
"We've got him," Cody shouted. "Mac, we've got him. Let go!"
An exhausting hour and a half later, Pegasus swooped down on the naval air station's rain-drenched runway. A watery dawn was graying the sky to the east as the endless, storm-wracked night slowly gave way to day.
The ground crew was waiting to recover the craft. While Dave went through the shut-down procedures, Kate, Doc and Jill delivered the crew of the Aransas Star to the Rescue Coordination Center to make the necessary notifications. Cari and Mac took Paulo back to the condo where the Hamiltons and the Whites waited.
The storm had left its mark. The slowly gathering dawn revealed uprooted palm trees and scattered debris en route to the beachside vacation rentals, but the condos themselves sustained no storm damage. Light poured through the downstairs windows of the unit Cari had rented for her sister. The kids were still asleep, she guessed, but the adults had all spent a long, tension-racked night.
She pulled into the parking space and killed the vehicle's engine. A quick glimpse in the rearview mirror showed eyes hollowed by fatigue and a face framed by the wild, wind-whipped tangles that had escaped her hair clip. Her wet uniform felt clammy in the cool October dawn. Her entire body ached from the strain and tension of the long night.
Her passengers weren't in much better shape. Paulo climbed out of the vehicle and hunched his thin shoulders under the blanket they'd draped around him aboard Pegasus. His face was pinched and white and scared. Cari knew he expected a scolding. Or worse.
Mac looked every bit as battered by the elements as the boy. His uniform hung in wet folds. Fatigue had carved deep grooves in his face. His plunge into the sea had left him carrying his shoulder stiffly. Very stiffly. Still, he managed to hunker down on one knee when Paulo balked at going into the house.
"Time to face the music, kid." He softened the gruff admonishment by knuckling the boy's head. "You need to tell the Whites and the Hamiltons you're sorry for scaring them the way you did."
He also needed to explain why he'd run away. Neither Cari nor Mac had pres
sed the shivering, frightened boy for answers, but they both suspected something other than a hassle over his pocketknife had driven Paulo out into the storm.
The others firmly seconded their opinion that explanations could come later. After startling the boy with a fierce hug, Deb waited .only until Janice White had translated Paulo's assurances that he was all right to whisk him upstairs for a hot shower and dry clothes. Jack used their absence to supply Cari and Mac with coffee and cook up a huge batch of bacon, scrambled eggs and refrigerator biscuits. All the while, he and the Whites pumped them for details about the rescue at sea.
Deb brought Paulo back downstairs twenty minutes later. After getting the nod from Reverend White, the boy attacked his plate of eggs and bacon like a starving wolf pup. While he gulped down the hot food and glass after glass of milk, Cari and Mac gave Deb an abbreviated version of the saga they'd just related to the others.
Finally it was Paulo's turn. He set down his milk glass and tried for his habitual scowl, but Mac cut him off at the pass. "What did we talk about outside, kid?"
Pushing out his lower lip, Paulo brought up his hands. Janice White interpreted.
"He says he's sorry for frightening us."
Jack leaned forward. His voice heavy with regret, he offered an apology of his own. "I'm sorry, too, Paulo. I didn't understand how important that pock-etknife is to you. I wasn't going to keep it or throw it away, just put it somewhere safe."
The boy's dark eyes held only misery as he signed a response.
"It doesn't matter about the knife," Janice translated. "It's at the bottom of the ocean, anyway."
"Oh, no!" Cari clucked sympathetically. "Was it in your pocket when you went into sea?"
His nod confirmed her guess. Slowly, reluctantly, his hands shaped more phrases.
"He says he's wants to go back to Caribe. He can survive alone in the jungle. He's done it before. That way he won't be such trouble to everyone."
"You're not trouble!" Deb protested, her mother's heart shredding at the idea of a child alone in a jungle. "No trouble at all."
The Right Stuff Page 15