Deadly Echoes (4 page)

“I can't say I blame her. I'm sure you've told her that if there's anything we can do to just ask.” William nodded and Donovan continued, “What else do we need to cover before we land?”

Both Buck and William shook their heads.

“Okay, keep working, and I want us to all be vigilant. To the FBI and Coast Guard, these are crimes to be solved. To us, it's personal. We need to figure out who's doing this to us and stop them—no matter what.”

Donovan made his way up past a small seating area and galley, slipped into the cockpit, and eased himself down in the copilot's seat. He fastened his harness and took in the panoramic view only visible from 48,000 feet. Out ahead, the vast blue Pacific Ocean spread out and merged with the sky, creating the illusion of infinity. Off to the left were a smattering of low clouds and underneath was the faint outline of an island. The big island was the easiest to spot, a smooth trail of steam drifting from the top of a volcano. The islands seemed small compared to the size of the ocean, until Donovan pictured each as the peak of an enormous underwater mountain range with only the tops breaking the surface of the water. Measured from the ocean floor, the highest peak of the Hawaiian Islands reached up over 33,000 feet, which was four thousand feet higher than Everest. As he scanned westward, he
found Maui, Lanai, Molokai, Oahu, and then finally their destination, Kauai.

“You get everything squared away?” Michael asked as Donovan settled in for the final phase of the flight.

“I think so. Security has been arranged for you and the airplane. Are you sure you don't want to come with us?”

“I'll pass. As fluid as this situation is, at least one of us should get some rest. You go, I'll take care of the airplane and get it ready to go back out. I'm assuming we have no idea when or where that might be.”

“No clue.” Donovan shrugged. “Like I told William and Buck, this is personal, and we need to be flexible.”

“I know. How are you holding up?”

Donovan knew the question probed at several different levels. He and Michael were close friends, so it was no secret that his split with Lauren had been difficult, as was the separation from his daughter. There were also his recent injuries. His leg still throbbed if he overtaxed it, and his injured hand would stiffen and hurt for no reason. The adversary with the knife would have killed him if he could have, so, overall, he was lucky. “If you're asking about my physical well-being, thank you. I'm fine.”

“That was one of my questions. This is the longest flight you've taken since you were hurt. You seem okay, but I wanted to ask.”

“I'm good, thanks.”

“And you?” Donovan returned the question. Michael, too, had suffered at the hands of the same attacker—only Michael had been shot.

“I couldn't be better.” Michael nodded as if to emphasize that this conversation wasn't about him. “How are you doing otherwise? Susan will never let up on me until she knows how you're getting along. Have you talked to Lauren lately?”

“I talked to her this morning,” Donovan replied. Susan, Michael's wife, worried about him and had since the day Donovan had met her. Michael and Susan, as well as their two boys, were
his closest friends, almost like family, and Donovan knew it was pointless to be evasive when it came to his relationship with Lauren. “I called to brief her on what was happening, but she was with a friend, so we didn't really get a chance to talk.”

“So everything is still status quo?”

Donovan nodded. “She doesn't want to live with me or without me, or something to that effect. I'm pretty sure my phone call this morning informing her that Eco-Watch, and so by default, she and Abigail were under attack, didn't sit all that well.”

“Don't worry about it, this is going to be a nonevent. Some whack jobs are trying to deflect their agenda onto us. I think you're exactly right to react by arriving at the scene of the crime in Eco-Watch's flagship. It's the perfect response. We're cooperating with the FBI and the Coast Guard. What better public relations move is there?”

“Unless it's exactly what these so-called whack jobs want, and one of us gets hurt.”

“If you think about it, who could possibly hate us? I mean, we save people and do scientific stuff—been doing it for years. We are without a doubt the good guys and since you brought up the possibility of great personal risk, I think this would be an excellent time for a raise, maybe some additional vacation days. The guys wearing the white hats who take big risks always deserve the best.”

Despite his mood, Donovan managed a smile. Michael was never happy until he made someone laugh. It was one of the things about his friend that Donovan counted on the most. They'd been friends and colleagues for over ten years now. In fact, Michael had been the first employee of the then newly formed Eco-Watch. There was no one Donovan trusted more, in or out of the cockpit, than Michael. As much as he treasured their friendship, Donovan suspected that it would vanish in a storm of betrayal if Michael ever found out who Donovan had once been. Over the years, conversations about the late Robert Huntington and the billionaire's involvement with Meredith Barnes had been the topic of discussion more than once. Michael held the view that most of the world
shared. Robert Huntington was most certainly the instrument in the death of the beloved Meredith Barnes. Meredith had been part environmental activist, part celebrity, and she was loved worldwide for her work on behalf of the planet. She took on global corporations as well as tyrannical governments and would take the fight anywhere. Her followers were in the millions; her book,
One Earth,
was still in print after twenty-five years, and her television series, as well as numerous award-winning documentaries, could still be found on television on any given night. In short, Meredith Barnes was an angelic soul sent to save us from ourselves, and billionaire oilman Robert Huntington had murdered her.

The reality was that he'd been deeply in love with Meredith, and there wasn't a day that went by Donovan didn't miss her. His guilt and sense of failed responsibility was with him always. That was the core reason Lauren had left him. She'd felt second best and decided she wasn't going to compete with a dead woman for the love of her husband. Lauren was right, but she was also wrong, and Donovan wasn't sure where the lines actually were anymore. The bottom line was he didn't know what to do to fix his marriage. Lauren deserved better than she got, and the end result of any contemplation on the matter always ended with the same stalemate. Through the tempest of this undercurrent of self-recrimination, Donovan heard the tail end of an Air Traffic Control clearance meant for them.

“I missed that.” Donovan said to Michael as he reached for the microphone. “What was the clearance?”

“They cleared us down to flight level two four zero,” Michael said as he tightened his harness and adjusted the autopilot to begin their descent.

Donovan read back the clearance and spun 24,000 feet into the altitude alerter.

“You sure you're okay?” Michael asked. “You looked a million miles away for a moment.”

“Not a million,” Donovan lied and pointed to their mileage to the Kauai airport. “One hundred and twenty.”

Michael lined up the
da Vinci
for final approach to runway three-five at the Lihue Airport. Below and to the east was only ocean; to the north and west, mountains. It was a spectacular approach, and Michael flew the Gulfstream perfectly until the wheels gently kissed the pavement. Once they'd slowed, Michael swung off the runway, and ground control directed them toward the executive terminal. The airport wasn't large, two commercial jets were huddled close to the terminal, and a smattering of smaller airplanes dotted the ramp. Up ahead, a lineman with red batons directed them to their stand on the ramp. Donovan could see the helicopter Buck had arranged parked off to the side. There were three official-looking vehicles, a fuel truck, and two police cars with lights flashing; the gathering created a sense of urgency.

Not far away, behind a chain-link fence, was a cluster of media vehicles, cameras no doubt rolling, shooting the arrival of Eco-Watch. Farther away, a crowd of people was cordoned off by barricades and uniformed officials. Donovan was too far away to make out the signs they held.

“I'm sure those signs are all about how much they love us,” Michael said as he swung the Gulfstream in a wide arc and eased forward until the lineman crossed his batons as a signal to stop.

“Yeah, and the armed guards are all about containing the love.” Donovan threw off his harness and went back to the cabin door only to find Buck already standing there, a handheld radio to his mouth as he put out his hand to keep Donovan from opening the door.

“What's the hold up?” Donovan asked.

“One final sweep of the area, and we'll be clear.”

A voice crackled from the radio, and Buck nodded they were good. As the air-stair unfolded and stretched to the tarmac, Buck placed himself in front of Donovan and descended to the ramp. With William behind him, Donovan joined the group awaiting their arrival. He, William, and Buck met a Mr. Erickson, the governor's envoy, and the local chief of police who pledged his department's full cooperation and protection. Donovan shook everyone's hand, thanked them, then turned and found himself face-to-face with a man who radiated quiet authority. Despite the heat, he wore a black suit with a dark tie. The crew cut head hinted at his being former military, and steel-gray eyes gave the impression he didn't miss much.

“Mr. Nash, I'm FBI Special Agent Christopher Hudson. Welcome to Kauai.”

“Agent Hudson,” Donovan returned the firm handshake. “Nice to meet you. The quicker we're out of here, the happier I'm going to be.”

“You'll be on your way in a minute. I'm assuming the helicopter is your doing.”

Donovan nodded, then turned and helped William politely extract himself from the governor's man. Buck signaled toward a white Suburban, and two men in dark pants and sports jackets appeared from open doors. They collected the luggage Michael handed out of the rear compartment and then quickly took up positions that created a perimeter between the
da Vinci
and the distant crowd of protesters.

Agent Hudson looked at Donovan and then at Buck. “Are your men armed?”

Buck nodded that they were.

“I'll allow your private security, but if they get in my way, they're done. Are we clear?”

“Perfectly.”

“Gentlemen, while I have everyone here, I'll quickly bring you up to date on what the FBI has so far,” Hudson said. “We processed
the
Triton's
onboard navigation logs and now know where the vessel has been for the last week. It was maneuvering approximately eight hundred nautical miles west of the Hawaiian Islands until two days ago, when it turned and set a constant course for Kauai. As we already know, the ship ran aground on a sandy beach, which as it turned out, did very little damage to the hull. We combed the area and found no evidence that anyone was onboard at the time. Our speculation is that the people responsible abandoned ship well before it reached shore. The
Triton
is still there waiting for a tug and the next high tide to pull it off the beach.”

“Did you find the Zodiac?” Donovan asked.

“No, we believe they either used it to escape before the
Triton
ran aground or it was sunk far out at sea. We received the photo analysis of the Zodiac in the video, versus the actual Zodiacs used by Eco-Watch. It seems to support the theory that Eco-Watch was set up.”

“Does that mean that you actually entertained the theory that Eco-Watch was somehow involved?” Donovan asked without bothering to disguise this irritation.

“We look at all the evidence, Mr. Nash,” Hudson replied evenly. “And then go where it leads.”

“So where is it leading you now?” Donovan asked. “Any sign of the fishing vessel?”

“The Coast Guard diverted one of their cutters to patrol the area where the
Triton
turned and set course for Kauai. So far, no one has identified the fishing ship in the video.” Hudson continued, “We're looking at everything we can find, starting the day the
Triton
set sail from Southern California. They arrived in Oahu a week ago, where they took on fuel, water, and stores for an extended cruise and then sailed from Oahu four days ago with an itinerary that was eventually designed to put them in New Zealand, where Mrs. Stratton had planned to join her husband.”

“Is Beverly, Mrs. Stratton, still on the island?” William asked.

“I don't believe so. She identified her husband and the crew. When she learned that we weren't ready to release the bodies, she
seemed a little lost. We tried to explain that in the course of a criminal investigation it could be days or perhaps even weeks before the medical examiner releases the remains to the family. She was upset by that information, and I overheard her make a phone call telling someone that she was going home.”

“When I spoke to her earlier,” William said, “she told me that her husband was tortured before he was killed. Can you shed more light on that aspect of the investigation?”

“The preliminary report is that everyone died by a single gunshot wound to the head. Mr. Stratton died that way as well, but I can confirm that he was tortured first. He has marks on his body indicative of someone trying to extract information—or induce pain. The medical examiner is working on the details.”

“What kind of marks?”

“It's a key part of the ongoing investigation and a detail we're keeping to ourselves.”

“We know they were hijacked at sea,” Donovan said. “Any luck with the images from the
Triton
security cameras?”

“We're running what little we have through our database. It may take a while.”