PEGASUS DOWN
Also by Philip Donlay
The Donovan Nash Series
Aftershock
Deadly Echoes
Zero Separation
Code Black
Category Five
PEGASUS DOWN
A NOVEL
Philip Donlay
Copyright 2016 by Philip Donlay
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, businesses, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 978-1-60809-169-0
Published in the United States of America by Oceanview Publishing
Longboat Key, Florida
www.oceanviewpub.com
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
For my son, Patrick
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THIS BOOK WOULD not have been possible without the wonderful support of the people of Eastern Europe. In my travels through Poland, Hungary, Slovakia, Austria, and beyond, your warmth and kindness is second to none. Thank you all so very much.
For their patience, friendship, and insight, I offer my deepest thanks to my long-time friends who never fail to keep me pointed in the right direction. Scott Erickson, Bo Lewis, Gary Kaelson, Pamela Sue Martin, Richard Drury, Kerry Leep, Nancy Gilson, and Brian Bellmont. You’ve played a bigger part in all of this than you’ll ever know. To my brother Chris, the smartest guy in the room—any room. Thanks for being there when I needed you. Thanks also go to my agent, Kimberley Cameron, and her team of talented professionals. You all do phenomenal work.
A very special thanks goes out to Dr. Philip Sidell, as well as Dr. D. P. Lyle, for their remarkable medical expertise. As always, I’m most appreciative on many levels. To all of my brothers and sisters who battle ankylosing spondylitis, and the associated nightmares that go along with the disease—you inspire me each and every day to keep moving forward.
I’d also like to thank the experts, the people who shed light on a myriad of subjects. To Captain Dave King, for educating me on the Boeing 727, I can’t thank you enough for your patience and support. Thanks also go out to the amazing flight staff of Airbus Helicopters for taking the time to try to educate an old fixed-wing pilot about the world of helicopters. Samantha Fischer, Vicki Harlander, Liz Lange, Victoria Dilliott, and Maddee James, you’re all amazing, and I’m the first to admit that I couldn’t do what I do without your efforts.
Finally, to Oceanview Publishing, the people who turn my words into books. Utmost praise goes to Patricia and Bob Gussin, Frank Troncale, David Ivester, as well as Emily Baar and Lee Randall. I know there isn’t a better team anywhere.
PEGASUS DOWN
CHAPTER ONE
THE FLASH OF the explosion lit up the night sky and the shock wave resonated deep into Lauren’s bones. Thrown hard against her seat belt, her ears rang, and bright spots swam in her vision as the cabin of the Learjet plunged into darkness. The crippled jet banked hard to the left. What few lights were visible out of the small windows confirmed they were headed down. The familiar whine from the jet’s twin engines faded to nothing, replaced by the shrill sound of bells from the cockpit and urgent voices of the pilots.
The pitch-black night was replaced by the glow of the emergency lights, and Lauren saw the frightened faces of the two other passengers, both men clutching their armrests as the airplane shuddered. One man she knew well; he was an old friend, Dr. Daniel Pope, an MIT colleague from years ago. The other was a man she’d only met a few days earlier. His name was Jakob Kovacs, a freelance operative brought in by the CIA. Their fear was justified. Lauren knew each second without the engines put them closer to the ground.
One of the pilots turned and yelled into the cabin. “Everyone strap in tight! We’re going down!”
Lauren cinched her seat belt until it hurt. She’d chosen a seat that faced aft, she knew enough about airplanes to know that facing the tail was safer in the event of an emergency landing. She also knew that a dead-stick landing at night, in a powerless plane, had a survival rate of nearly zero. The smattering of lights she’d seen earlier were gone. They were too low.
She thought of those she’d left back home and how much she wished she could be there for one more minute, to tell them goodbye and not to grieve. She looked across the aisle at Daniel; his face had gone shock white. He’d closed his eyes. At least she wouldn’t die alone. The last thing she saw before she, too, closed her eyes and leaned down to cover her head with her hands, was her wedding ring. She whispered goodbye to her husband and her daughter.
Her fear was at a level she’d never known. Every muscle in her body wanted to flee—fight was an option long vanished. Lauren was slammed hard into her seat as the Learjet decelerated violently. The roar of the impact coursed through her body and reverberated in the small cabin. The airplane lurched sideways, and she was thrown savagely to the side as a final tremor ripped through the shattered airframe.
Lauren heard the unmistakable roar of water as it exploded upward and then cascaded down. The crippled Learjet spun in the current and quickly began to sink. Jolted into reality, she felt the first touch of cold water pouring into the cabin, as it swirled around her ankles. Lauren sensed the airplane was sinking nose first. She turned and saw that the cockpit was already flooded, telling her that the forward fuselage had ruptured in the crash. There was no way to reach the pilots.
She threw off her seat belt and on unsteady legs went to Daniel. His eyes were closed. A single groan told her he was still alive. In the glow from the emergency lights she could see Kovacs. His eyes were unfocused, his neck bent at an impossible angle. He was beyond help.
As the water rushed in, the torrent almost toppled her. She reached beneath the surface, and by feel, unfastened Daniel’s seat belt and heaved hard to raise him up out of his seat. Lauren rolled him on his back, slid her right arm underneath him, and part swimming, part wading, hurried toward the over-wing exit. She planted her feet and furiously pulled on the handle. The hatch gave way, the open exit only inches above the water level.
She shed her shoes, and gripping Daniel’s collar, she climbed out into the darkness and crouched on top of the wing. The rising water level inside the plane let her float him face up. Standing on the wing, she leaned back, and then with all of her strength, pulled Daniel’s unconscious body through the emergency exit.
Moments later they were free of the Learjet and floating alone in the pitch-dark water. Lauren kicked away from the airplane and watched the sleek tail pitch upwards and then slip below the surface. The jet was gone. Lauren and Daniel were all that floated away in the swirling current. She cradled Daniel’s head in the crook of her arm and used her free arm to tread water. She kicked to inch them closer to the bank, while allowing the current to do the bulk of the work carrying them downstream, away from the crashed jet.
Distant lights had told her there was civilization somewhere up ahead, but she had no idea how far. Lauren was swimming at a slow methodical pace, fighting the urge to panic as she continued to propel them toward the tree-lined shore. When her feet finally touched bottom, she pulled Daniel as far up the bank as she could, so they could hide under l
eafy branches she’d snap from the low-hanging limbs.
Once she felt as if they were somewhat hidden, Lauren knelt and checked Daniel again; he was still breathing. A warm wind rattled the leaves above them and the constant buzzing of insects was the only other sound. The night was cloudless, and the stars of August filled the sky. Lauren waved at the insects that buzzed unseen in her face. She’d been deep in thought about who would come looking for them when the sun rose. A new sound began to fill the air, and it took her several seconds to understand she was hearing the roar from an approaching boat. She pulled Daniel closer and adjusted the leaves as well as she could to camouflage them both.
When she saw the high-powered spotlight searching the water ahead of the vessel, she reacted immediately, taking a handful of mud from the riverbank and smearing it on her face, then repeating the process on Daniel. Then she drew her legs up and made herself as small as possible.
The light pierced the darkness and in the harsh beam she would have been blinded if she hadn’t looked away. In that instant she saw that Daniel’s eyes were blinking open and she was terrified he’d try to move. She inched closer and whispered into his ear. “Daniel, it’s Lauren. Don’t move, don’t make a sound. Do you understand?”
In the sweeping light from the approaching boat she saw him slowly nod his head.
Lauren thought they’d have until daylight before anyone searched for them. It was a miscalculation she’d not make again. Earlier, she’d been trying to calculate exactly where in Eastern Europe they’d crashed, but all she could say with certainty was they were somewhere between Bratislava and Budapest, which put them in either Slovakia or Hungary. There was a current, so they’d crashed into a river, but it seemed small for the Danube. Her biggest concern was being found by the people who’d shot them down, though being arrested by the police could be just as bad. At times, the Slovak and Hungarian governments were indistinguishable from its criminals. She remembered the detailed briefing she’d received at Langley. The mission was covert. The CIA would maintain complete deniability, which meant no help was coming. She and Daniel were alone in a very hostile environment.
Lauren was almost afraid to breathe as the boat cruised closer, its throaty engine pushing against the current. The searchlight reached out from the bow and swept both banks and the water in between. She could see the brown, muddy water, as well as the tall trees that lined the shore. In the residual light she spotted armed men along the deck. As the boat cruised past, questions flooded her mind. How deep was the water, was there floating jet fuel from ruptured tanks, or other debris that would reveal the location of their crash? If the authorities found the wreckage, would they have any idea how many people were onboard? Would they be looking for survivors? She pictured the open emergency exit and instantly answered her own question. Of course they would— and then the hunt would be on.
A gurgle sounded from deep in Daniel’s chest, and blood trickled from the side of his mouth. His body stiffened. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
Lauren cradled him protectively in her arms, her eyes fixed on the stern of the passing boat, looking for any sign it was slowing or turning. When she deemed it safe she replied. “Why did you ask for me?”
“I didn’t think anyone else would come.”
“That’s not true,” Lauren replied, absently stroking his face.
“I had to try to protect my daughter, Samantha, as well as be heard, and maybe get out of this place,” Daniel said as he found Lauren’s hand with his. He pressed a rubber-covered jump drive into her palm. “It’s all in here. It wasn’t for me, it was for the others.”
“Samantha is safe,” Lauren said, relieved to see that the drive that Daniel had given her was a high-quality military grade. Whatever data Daniel saved would have easily survived the crash and the prolonged immersion in the river. “What do you mean? What others?”
“I built . . .” He choked and spit up more blood. “A small, stealth-capable jet. Remember the Phoenix? I reengineered it to be invisible to radar. It has the radar cross section of a sparrow.”
Lauren remembered the Phoenix, a design from their days at MIT, when they were together.
“My design was meant for a surveillance platform.” Daniel was now gasping for breath. “They modified it, turned it into a weapon.”
“Who are these people, and who do they want to spy on?” Lauren held him more tightly now.
“I don’t know.” Daniel’s voice was barely audible, the gurgling in his chest worse. “They might be Ukrainian, or Chechens. I don’t know, but when they do decide to act—I believe they will be able to use the Phoenix to deliver a nuclear weapon.”
“They have a nuclear weapon and you built them a stealth aircraft?” Lauren felt a cold stab of fear rush through her body as the implications fully registered.
“I didn’t know. When I made the discovery, I sabotaged the plane,” Daniel said. “I don’t know how much time I bought. Not long.”
“Where is it? Tell me where you were?” Lauren pleaded, but she knew he was fading.
“I’m sorry,” Daniel said his voice weaker. “I changed—different than before. Only you—”
Lauren heard the last wisp of breath slowly leave Daniel’s chest and then he was still. A wave of anguish welled up within her, and she wanted to scream at the heavens and demand to know why. Daniel Pope was a good man, he’d reached out to her in his moment of need, and she’d come, only to have him die in her arms. She closed her eyes as a kaleidoscope of images of their time together assaulted her from every direction. She reeled at each crystal-clear memory, tears forming as she remembered the day they met, his impish uncertain smile, the flash of interest in his eyes. His laugh, his clumsiness, his intellect, their walks, the late nights, the seasons in Boston, but now he was gone. She was battered by the thoughts and images of the life they had once shared, and finally she had no choice but to give in to grief. She cried silently, for him, for his daughter, and for herself. The memories kept coming, an avalanche of their time together that gathered momentum, and threatened to completely unhinge her. Lauren’s tears rolled down her face, fell on Daniel’s skin, and then, drop by drop, met with the river and were swept away toward an unknown destiny.
CHAPTER TWO
DONOVAN NASH AWOKE as the sensation of soft breath tickled his cheek. He opened his eyes with a smile. His five-year-old daughter, Abigail, still in her pajamas, was perched wide-eyed, hovering over him.
“Daddy, my tummy is empty. Make me pancakes like you promised!”
Donovan reached up and grabbed her under her arms, lifting her free of the bed to hold her at arm’s length. She squealed with delight and put her hands out like wings, and Donovan spun her around like an airplane until he finally allowed her to drop next to him into the soft bedding.
Amidst Abigail’s giggles, Donovan threw back the covers, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled on a t-shirt. He picked up his cell phone. No message from his wife, Lauren. That perplexed him. As a consultant for the Defense Intelligence Agency, she’d been called away to a meeting in Geneva, Switzerland. That had been five days ago, and she was scheduled to arrive back home at Dulles Airport this afternoon. Her flight out of Geneva departed at what would have been five in the morning Washington D.C. time, so she promised she’d send a message that she’d made her flight so as not to wake him. The lack of a message was odd, but not cause for immediate alarm.
He turned and motioned for Abigail to jump up for a piggyback ride, which she did without hesitation. With a firm grip on both his phone and his little girl, he headed downstairs for the kitchen.
“Special pancakes!” Abigail cried out as she slid off Donovan’s back to sit on the kitchen counter.
Donovan opened the refrigerator, pulled out the orange juice, and poured Abigail a glass. “There you go, sweetie. Let Daddy start the coffee, and then we’ll make special pancakes, okay?”
Abigail nodded as she drank her juice.
With the coffe
e started, Donovan found the bowl with the spout he liked, pancake mix, milk, and eggs. He set the pan on the stove and began to prepare the batter to the perfect consistency.
“What time does Mommy get home today?” Abigail asked as she finished her juice.
“You know the answer to that question.” Donovan said as he whipped the batter with a wooden spoon. “We’ve talked about it every day since Mommy left for Europe. You tell me what time Mommy gets home.”
“Two fifty-five!” Abigail held up both hands as if she’d scored a victory, clearly overjoyed at her mommy’s return.
“What are we going to do before Mommy gets home?” Donovan asked, knowing the answer was going to further super-charge his daughter.
Abigail’s eyes grew even larger as her excitement accelerated. “Horseback riding! Daddy, make me a pancake of Halley.”
Donovan dropped some batter in the pan to test the temperature and found it perfect. Halley’s Comet was the full name of the Welsh pony that Abigail rode and loved dearly. Halley had been her pancake request for the last two months. Using a spoon, he carefully poured batter to make the horse’s torso, and then running legs, a neck and oval head, then he used tiny drops of batter for the ears, followed by a flowing tail. He grabbed two plates, butter and syrup, and returned to the stove just in time to carefully flip his creation. With Lauren out of town, he and Abigail often ate in the kitchen with her sitting on the counter, one of the many father-daughter rituals they enjoyed.
“Ready?” Donovan asked as he slid the spatula under the horse and placed it on Abigail’s plate. Her face lit up and a peal of delighted laughter filled the kitchen. Donovan helped her with the butter and syrup, and she smiled with each bite.
“Your turn, Daddy. What are you going to make?”
Pegasus Down: A Donovan Nash Thriller (Donovan Nash Thrillers) Page 1
