That evening, well disguised and armed with a fake passport, he and William boarded a privately chartered jet for Europe.
At the end of several months, his cosmetic surgery scars had healed. Twenty pounds lighter and sporting a full beard, he left Switzerland. From the ashes of his old life rose a new man. With a flawless set of documents and a well thought out history, Donovan Nash began his new life. He and William had liquidated his public assets, disguised his fortune in a myriad of trusts and foreign institutions. For nearly a decade, he bounced around between continents. He rediscovered his love of flying, and worked as a pilot in Asia, Europe, and Africa. He used his money and skills to make relief flights into war or famine-plagued areas. Though no one was looking for a dead man, he was always careful never to reveal his previous life to those around him. It had taken years, but Donovan finally came across the idea that would fully embody his and Meredith’s shared dream. Using part of his vast fortune, he established the foundation that funded Eco-Watch. Now on a truly global scale he was making a difference. He liked to think Meredith would have been proud of him.
Donovan blinked back the tears. The memory of Meredith represented a longing he would carry forever. He’d been twenty-seven when she died. He was now forty-five. Up until a few months ago, not one in a thousand people in the country had ever heard of Eco-Watch. Donovan was convinced that Erin had started her investigation after the events in Russia. With the dossier in hand, he went in search of William.
“William?” Donovan called out through the silent house.
“I’m out here.”
Donovan went through a set of French doors onto the patio. William was sitting in the shade with the Sunday paper. Donovan smiled; it was a ritual the two of them developed years ago. They would talk for hours about whatever events were occurring: the victories and defeats in the arena of business and politics, the failings and triumphs of individuals and governments. It was one of the many ways by which William had educated Donovan in the ways of the world.
“Finished?” William lowered the paper.
“I have two questions.”
“I’ll answer if I can.”
“How did you find out she was investigating me?”
“She asked for an appointment with the head of the Phoenix Foundation. No doubt to try to discover who exactly was funding Eco-Watch.” William smiled. “I arranged for that meeting to take place, at which time our investigation of her began.”
“Where can I find her right now?”
William nodded as if expecting the question. “I made the call a few minutes ago. She’s at her apartment.”
“What did you tell her!” Donovan couldn’t believe William had contacted her.
“Relax. She thinks she’s going to have brunch with someone from the foundation. Someone who wants to talk off the record. It wasn’t much of a lie, was it?”
Donovan nodded; the old man was still as shrewd as they came. The Phoenix Foundation was the primary financial body behind Eco-Watch, as well as a dozen other philanthropic endeavors. Each year the foundation gave away millions of dollars of Donovan’s money. He and William both sat on the board.
“No. I guess that’s not stretching the truth much.”
“I’d love to see the look on her face when you show up. Should be an interesting meeting.” William turned the page of the newspaper. “I suggest you go shave and make yourself presentable. You need to be at the Westfields Conference Center in two hours.”
The hotel was only minutes from his townhouse. Donovan knew he had plenty of time to go home and get ready.
“I’d almost consider trying to buy her off,” Donovan thought out loud. “But I don’t think she’s the type.”
“Neither do I, or I would have made that overture. But you need to be careful. She already thinks you’re a dangerous man, so be careful you don’t give her any ammunition. I think the key is to convince her she is entirely wrong about you, that she’ll become the laughing-stock of Washington journalism if she publishes.”
“I already thought of that tactic. What if it doesn’t work?”
“You could always seduce her,” William said, nonchalantly.
“What on earth would make you say that?” Donovan heard the words, but couldn’t believe William had said them.
“Go with your strengths, son. She doesn’t know you’ve read some of her notes, only that you found her camera. Tell her you could still have her arrested for trespassing, but that you’re more intrigued than angry. It’s an opportunity that’s already in place.”
Donovan shook his head, though he had to admit that William made a good case for a more subtle approach. He remembered the old saying about holding your friends close, but your enemies closer.
“She’s fascinated with you, or she wouldn’t have gotten this far with her investigation. My guess is this young woman can’t help but wonder what makes a man like you tick. It would be far easier to show her she’s wrong about you than to try to tell her. Besides, she is rather fetching.”
“You’re the ladies man, not me.” Donovan was always amazed at the caliber of women seen on William’s arm at various Washington social and political events. “We both know you could sell ashes to the devil. Plus, your life is far more interesting than mine.”
William grinned at the remark.
“We’ll see what happens. I think it’s going to be one of those last minute, go-with-my-gut-calls.”
“You do that very well,” William said, quietly. “It’s why there are thirty-seven Russian men still alive to be husbands and fathers. Not to mention Lauren, and all the other people you’ve helped in your life. If you really stop and think about it, this Walker girl is really no match for you.”
Donovan didn’t really need the pep talk. But considering that his carefully orchestrated life might be unraveling in the next few hours, he soaked up the words.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lauren rubbed her tired eyes. For the last three hours she’d been at her lab, sitting in front of the computer screens, working with Jonah and a National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration reconnaissance flight. The NOAA aircraft had been making runs into Helena, flying precise paths in relation to Jonah. Using perspectives from the two Doppler systems, Lauren and NOAA had painted the first 3-D picture of the inner workings of a category five hurricane.
The turbulence had driven the four-engine P-3 farther and farther out from the eye. They were now at the outer reaches of Jonah’s range. But the results so far had been staggering. Helena was rapidly becoming the most powerful hurricane of the last decade. Her sustained winds were building upward of 195 mph. The pressure was so low that tons of sea-water were being lifted as the ocean bowed up within the eye.
Lauren was still haunted by the reports from the USS Thorn. The 563-foot warship had been severely battered as it traversed its way out of the storm. Reinforced armor plated metal had torn and buckled by the force of eighty-foot waves. Major sections of the ship’s superstructure had been pounded, then ripped away. Lauren knew that a cubic yard of water weighed 1,700 pounds. In the guise of a hurtling wave, the physics surrounding its destructive properties were astounding. The destroyer was now out of harm’s way, limping southwest towards the Naval base at Norfolk, Virginia. Lauren lowered her head at the thought of the nine men reported lost at sea.
“I’ll take over if you want.” Dr. Simmons eased his girth into a seat next to Lauren. “You look shot. Let me finish this up for you.”
“Thanks.” Usually Lauren hated relinquishing her seat on the front lines, but she felt totally drained. Her earlier conversation with Calvin had done nothing to settle her frayed nerves. They were still waiting for the weather to allow a flight into Bermuda. The only good news was that due to the hurricane, most of the communications on the island were down. Whoever had her laptop, even if they’d hacked their way inside, hadn’t been able to do anything with the information. If events went as planned, Calvin’s security team would be able to ge
t to Bermuda and find those responsible before there was any real damage done. She’d wanted so much to ask about Donovan’s involvement, but she couldn’t. She wanted to believe he was innocent…but a small nagging voice kept asking, could she be wrong?
Lauren’s mother and Abigail weighed heavily on her thoughts also. She knew they were packing, getting ready to leave town. There was a flight out of Baltimore first thing in the morning. It would be Abigail’s first airplane ride, and Lauren wouldn’t be there for her. The thought of missing any small first in her daughter’s life caused a sharp pang of guilt.
“Dr. McKenna.” Brent Whitaker leaned in close. “Here are the early statistical-dynamic observations. We’re loading them into the computer right now. You should have access to them in a few minutes.”
Lauren stepped over and took the printout from his outstretched hand. “Thank you.” She’d look it over when she went back to her office.
“Oh, and Doctor?” Brent swiveled in his chair and took off his glasses. “I just wanted—needed to ask you something.”
“Yes?”
“Is there anything that’s going to slow this hurricane down? Am I missing something here?”
“No, you’re not missing anything. Unless we have a major shift in the steering currents controlling Helena, she’s coming ashore.”
“That’s what I thought. I’ve been keeping an eye on them, but they’re staying the same. As far as I can see, there’s nothing on the horizon that’s going to turn or dissipate this thing.”
“It’s still a hurricane.” Lauren knew she was trying to sound optimistic, despite the reality of the situation. “And it’s still far out to sea. An awful lot can happen.”
“I know. It’s just that I’ve never really been in the path. I’ve studied a lot of weather, but from in here it all seems abstract.”
“Maybe you should put in a bid for some field work. It always helps to have some hands-on experience in the real world.”
“I’ve been trying,” Brent sighed.
“You want me to put a word in for you?”
“I’d appreciate that more than you could imagine.”
Lauren gave the young man a look of encouragement as she walked away. With Victor dead, she could use a new assistant. She made a mental note to ask Calvin about him.
She slipped out of the lab and went straight for the ladies’ room. Relieved it was empty, she leaned forward and studied her reflection in the mirror. As she suspected, her red-tinged eyes had the hint of dark circles under them. She pulled a few rogue strands of hair back over her ear and straightened her blouse in the waistband of her slacks. Lauren washed her hands, then smoothed out her lab coat as best she could. It was then she looked down and saw the report that Brent had handed her. The data jumped off the page—no wonder Brent had been so concerned. She quickly headed for her office. She hadn’t gotten halfway there when her pager hummed at her waist. She stopped and read the message. It was from Calvin. He’d obviously called her at the lab and her office. His patience must be growing thin for him to beep her in the building. Moments later, she reached the door that led into Calvin’s office.
“Go right in, Dr. McKenna.” His assistant motioned toward Calvin’s door.
“Thank you.” Lauren knocked lightly and walked in. “You were looking for me?”
Calvin was on the phone. He pointed at a chair and continued his conversation. “Yes, sir. I’m well aware of what that costs. I think it’s far too early to make that determination. Mr. Secretary, my expert just walked in. I’m going to put you on speaker.”
Lauren knew she was going to be put on the spot. She sat up and again scanned the papers she had in her hand. Brent had unknowingly handed her the exact information she needed. Helena had somehow compacted herself, and in the process grown stronger. It was something no scientist had ever seen. This storm was now operating outside the realm of known hurricane behavior.
Calvin pushed a button on his phone.
“Mr. Secretary. I have Dr. Lauren McKenna with me. She’s our leading scientist in the atmospheric forecasting unit.”
“Hello, Dr. McKenna. Morris Bradshaw here. I’m familiar with some of your work. Very impressive. Very forward thinking.”
“Why thank you, Secretary Bradshaw.” Lauren had never spoken with the Secretary of Defense before. It was he to whom the DIA ultimately answered.
“Why don’t you ask Dr. McKenna what you just asked me?” Calvin nodded in Lauren’s direction. “I’m sure she can shed more light on the problem than I can.”
“I’ll cut right to the chase, Dr. McKenna. This hurricane, how big is it going to get? And when and where is it going to make landfall?”
Lauren was scanning the latest information as he asked the questions. She knew her answer would shape the military’s emergency contingency plans. It was the National Weather Service’s job to coordinate with civil disaster preparedness teams. They were the people who issued the warnings and evacuation notices. Her job was to make sure the people and assets of the armed forces were fully aware of any meteorological events that might impact their operations.
“Mr. Secretary, at this point it’s a little too early to be specific. The storm is still almost three days from landfall. But the geographic area I’m concerned with would be from Washington D.C. all the way north to Rhode Island. We could see catastrophic winds and ocean conditions between those two points. Once the storm moves ashore, there’s the risk of tornadic activity and flooding rain for several hundred miles inland. All military assets in that corridor, in my opinion, are at risk.”
“Jesus! You’re serious?”
“Yes, Mr. Secretary. I think we’re going to see one of the strongest storms in history come ashore in the next seventy-two hours. It’s a very compact, but violent hurricane at this moment. We in atmospheric research have never seen a storm of this magnitude. And frankly, I don’t see anything that’s going to slow it down.”
“Is Washington, D.C. itself at risk?”
“Not in a strategic sense. We could see some flooding from the storm surge and damage from high winds. But as I’m sure you know, hurricanes quickly lose their energy once they pass over land. Washington is just far enough inland, and in this case, just far enough south to miss the full fury of Helena.”
“What about Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York?”
“They are at risk. But I’m especially concerned about New York City. If Helena were to come ashore at that precise spot, we’ll have an unimaginable disaster on our hands.”
“Dr. McKenna, could you please elaborate.”
“If Helena does what I think she’ll do, we could have a seventy-five to ninety foot storm surge wash directly up both the Hudson and East rivers. Everything below the sixth floor in Manhattan will be underwater. Older buildings will simply collapse. Subways would be flooded; the city will stop functioning for weeks or months. We’re looking at the possibility of 300 plus mile per hour winds. The low-lying areas of Long Island, into New Jersey, could be scrubbed clean. I won’t even try to predict the loss of life and property, sir.”
“Holy mother of God. Calvin. Is this right? Could this happen?”
Calvin looked directly at the phone. “If it’s what Dr. McKenna says, then I believe it.”
“Okay. Here’s what I’m going to need from your end. I want hourly reports on this hurricane. I’m going to brief the Cabinet and the Joint Chiefs. Any change in the status of this storm and I want to know about it immediately. Calvin, make sure Dr. McKenna has my direct number. Good news or bad, I want it as quickly as you find anything out. Am I clear on this point?”
“Yes, Mr. Secretary.”
“I’ll expect to hear from you soon.”
Lauren looked at Calvin as the line went dead.
“I know I might have put you on the spot, Lauren.” Calvin scratched his nose as he searched for the words he was looking for. “I was only asking for an update. Couldn’t you have sugar-coated it a little?”
> “I did,” Lauren replied evenly. “I’ll need to go crunch some numbers. The good news is with Jonah we’re receiving more data than ever before. This is going to be the most well-documented hurricane in history. Of all the storms I’ve ever studied, this is the one that we need to understand. The bad news is I don’t think this is a freak hurricane. I have a bad feeling that we’re seeing a marked shift in the global weather patterns…and super-hurricanes are one of the byproducts.”
“I hope you’re wrong.” Calvin absently tapped his pencil on his desk.
“Me, too.” Lauren paused. “I’m having my mother take Abigail and leave Baltimore. They’re going to Chicago.”
“You are?” A look of alarm came over him. “You really think this is going to be a catastrophe?”
“Of the highest order. As hard as I search for any hint that Helena is weakening, or turning—all I find is the opposite.”
“Keep me posted.” Calvin jotted down a number from memory. “Here’s Bradshaw’s direct line. I’d appreciate it if any communication came through me first. But if that’s not possible, don’t hesitate to call him yourself. Our first priority is to keep the Pentagon up to date.”
“I’ll either be in my office or the lab.” Lauren stood to go. She hesitated for a moment. “Any word on the investigation?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss it at this time.”
Lauren nodded and let herself out of Calvin’s office and headed for her own. The sudden shift in his behavior had been obvious, but Lauren had no idea what it meant. She wondered if she herself were under investigation. If there weren’t a category five hurricane coming their way, would she be on suspension? A hundred questions flew through her mind as she walked into her office and settled behind her desk. As Brent had promised, the latest data had been downloaded. She logged on and began to sift through the information. The DIA’s new weather dedicated computer was a marvel of speed and efficiency. It processed data at a rate of 3.2 trillion instructions per second, almost thirty times faster than the computer it replaced. With the click of a mouse, Lauren was looking at the latest Doppler images from both Jonah, and the NOAA P-3. As before, the high-reflectivity of Helena’s eye wall was astounding. Monstrous up and down drafts were at work, both feeding and releasing the tremendous energy of the storm.
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