Zero Separation (32 page)

Donovan opened the e-mail:

I'm with Michael. We're on our way to Liberty Airways Ops. Will forward plan when we arrive on site. Buck forced to call military—company soon. Hoping you'll get one chance to storm cockpit before fighters intervene
.

Donovan typed a quick reply, and then turned toward Montero. “Okay, Lauren found us. They're on their way to Liberty Airways Operations. She also says that we're going to have company real soon.”

“What do you mean by company?”

“Air Force fighters.”

“Oh, perfect. Who's with her, and exactly what is it you think they can do?”

“My wife is an analyst at the Defense Intelligence Agency. She's got some serious resources. Michael Ross is with her and he knows airplanes, and Buck is the guy you want around when you need some doors opened. I trust all of them with my life.”

“Buck?”

“He's a former Navy SEAL. I met him several years ago on a joint mission. He's one of the smartest, most capable men I've ever met.”

“You don't do anything half-assed, do you? Did you tell anyone on the ground that we've been infected with anthrax?”

Donovan shook his head. “I think we gave them enough to worry about. It isn't spread person to person, so it's not like we're going to pass it to anyone else.”

“Do you think if we make it down in one piece, we'll still have time to get treated?”

“I don't know.”

“I hate sitting here and waiting. Alec died without being able to fight back, and I don't want to go that way. I'm serious. We need to get this over with before those fighters arrive.”

“Let me pose a theoretical question,” Donovan said as he watched Montero continually turn the screwdriver over and over in her hand, her eyes fixed on the cockpit. “If we rushed the cockpit, how fast could we take them both out? I mean, if we took them by surprise, could we neutralize them both where they sat?”

“I've been thinking about that very thing,” Montero said in a hushed tone. “There's only room for one of us to get within striking distance in such a confined space. What you're asking is: do I think I could kill them both without Strauss flinching and causing us to collide with the other plane?”

“You're the one with the screwdriver.”

“Realistically, I doubt it. I could probably take out Rafael, but by then I'd have lost the element of surprise. There's going to be a fight with Strauss, which leaves no one flying the plane. If I took Strauss out first, then I have a fight on my hands with Rafael. Again, there'd be no one flying the plane. I don't see any way to make it crisp and clean.”

“We need to take Rafael out first and then do something to get Strauss to let go of the controls, just for a few seconds. I'll reach around you and get us clear of the Airbus. After that, I'll help you with Strauss.”

“Strauss is going to be a handful. There's no room up there to apply any leverage.”

“Rafael's getting up!” Donovan caught the unmistakable movement in the cockpit and whispered the alarm. Montero immediately slid across the aisle, and Donovan snapped the computer shut, threw the blanket over it, and slid it as far under the table as he could. He stretched his arms behind him, and draped his wrists around the table leg and lowered his head as if still unconscious.
Across the aisle he saw that Montero had done the same thing. Donovan half closed his eyes and waited.

Cloaked in the shadows under the table, he watched as Rafael rummaged around the galley. He opened a drawer, took out a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, and took a long pull. Donovan risked eye contact with Montero and shook his head as if to say that this wasn't the scenario they needed. She shifted slightly onto her side, the screwdriver visible in her hand.

Donovan shook his head once again—imploring Montero to sit tight. If she bolted, Rafael would see her coming before she reached him. A slight tremor ran through the Gulfstream, followed by the rolling bounce of some light turbulence. Rafael turned his back to the cabin and put out a hand to steady himself.

Montero got up on her knees and gathered her feet under her like a sprinter. Donovan stretched across the aisle and just as she sprang forward, his fingers clutched her belt. She launched herself, but instead of going forward, she went down on the carpet. Donovan pulled her into him, terrified that Rafael would sense what was going on behind him and turn around.

She fought momentarily, but Donovan held her tightly while he kept his eyes on Rafael. Long moments passed before the Israeli finally took his water and slipped back into the cockpit.

“He's gone.” Donovan could feel her trembling in the darkness.

“Don't ever grab me again!” Montero's voice wavered with unchecked anger. “You should have let me take him. He was relaxed and didn't give us more than a cursory glance!”

“He would have seen you coming.”

“Yeah, but he wouldn't have been able to do anything about it!” Montero hissed. “Look, I don't have your faith in the others. If we don't do something now, then someone else will make a decision, and we'll both die for nothing sitting on our hands.”

“You'll get your chance,” Donovan whispered. “If we die, it won't be for nothing. His plan is to kill millions, and it's not going to happen. We've stopped Strauss—he just doesn't know it yet. But we can't afford to make a single mistake.”

“What's happening?” Montero steadied herself and looked around.

“It feels like we're turning.” Donovan quickly looked out the window and made sure the Airbus was still above them, the strobe light confirmed that they were. He reached under the blanket and retrieved the computer from under the blanket.

“Is it starting?”

“It's part of the normal arrival into Dulles,” Donovan said, having flown this route a hundred times. “The south arrival gate takes us over Norfolk, then a turn to the west toward Richmond, then straight north into Dulles.”

“If we wait any longer, some fighter pilot is going to fire a missile and eliminate all of our options. Ask them how much time we have.” Montero nodded toward the computer. “We need to know if they've bought us a reprieve from the fighters. If they haven't, I say we make our move.”

Donovan started typing when he saw the red
X
on the connection icon. His eyes shot to the signal strength indicator and lowered his head. “We lost the link.”

“Reboot it or something.”

Donovan tried to reconnect, but there was no signal to be found. “I don't think it's the computer. That last turn may have put the Airbus between us and the satellite, so it's blocking the signal.”

“We're cut off from the outside? Do you have any idea what their plan might be?”

“No, and without the satellite link, we're not going to know until it happens.”

“We're on our own then?” Montero asked.

“Yeah.” Donovan locked eyes with Montero. “It won't be long now. Get ready.”

Tires squealing in protest, Buck accelerated the SUV around the ramp that led from Highway 50 onto Route 28. Lauren was pinned against the door as they whipped around the cloverleaf and then shot north on the major thoroughfare. Traffic was light, and Lauren watched as the speedometer hit one hundred twenty.

Buck disconnected the call. “General Porter says the fighters will shoot when the airliner reaches the thirty-mile no-fly zone around the White House. No exceptions.”

“We're running out of time,” Lauren said. “How do you think we should handle this when we get to the terminal?”

“You're the DIA agent,” Michael said. “Throw your credentials around and get us inside.”

“Whoa.” Buck let up off the accelerator.

Lauren looked up to find that the windshield had misted over. “What happened?” Visibility had gone to nearly zero, causing Buck to hit the brakes.

Wiper blades swept back and forth, clearing the windshield. Once Buck could see, he put the accelerator to the floor. “The guy in front of us blew through a puddle of water.”

“That's it!” Michael sat bolt upright in his seat. “That's how we do it!”

“Do what?” Lauren turned and could see the inspiration etched on Michaels's face.

“We get the Airbus to dump fuel. Airliners dump fuel in an emergency, right? It's how they reduce their weight so they can come back and land. The fuel vaporizes as it leaves the tank and creates a mist, almost like a contrail. What it should do is force
these guys out of position long enough for Donovan to storm the cockpit. The guys flying the
da Vinci
will never see it coming.”

Buck handed his cell phone to Lauren. “The last number I dialed was General Porter. He needs to hear about this.”

“I have another idea.” Lauren reached into her pocket and pulled out a business card. “Guys, I've always heard that there's one airline in the world that has the best security. Is that true?”

“El Al,” Michael replied. “Everyone in the aviation business knows that. Do you have connections within Israel's national airline?”

“I hope you know what you're doing,” Buck said.

Lauren entered the number and waited—each precious second ticking off in her head. A man answered the phone. Lauren recognized his voice.

“Mr. Keller, this is Lauren McKenna. I need you to listen carefully. Nathan Strauss is about to make a biological attack on Washington D.C. He's in a Gulfstream jet shadowing a Liberty Airways commercial airliner. Liberty Airways Operations is in the B Concourse at Dulles Airport. I need access. Yes or no, can you help me?”

“How soon?” Keller asked without hesitation.

“Ten minutes.”

“I'll call you back in five.”

Lauren looked at the screen and found that Keller had disconnected the call.

“Call Porter,” Buck urged. “He needs to know what we're trying to do.”

Lauren took Buck's phone, and as the call went through, she slipped into the mind-set she used at work to deal with the military.

“General Porter here.”

“General, this is Dr. Lauren McKenna, Defense Intelligence Agency. I'm with your nephew, we're headed to Dulles Airport and we need your help.”

“I'm listening, Dr. McKenna.”

“Sir, we now have credible intelligence that the anthrax aboard the Eco-Watch Gulfstream is from Saddam's prewar stockpile.”

“You've got my attention. Go on.”

“My team and I have devised a way to take control of the Gulfstream and keep the anthrax from being released. General, if you shoot down the Gulfstream, you run the risk of releasing some, if not all, of the anthrax. Tonight, with the light breeze out of the west, you'll easily expose all of the population centers downwind, which adds up to millions of people. Our plan can perhaps preserve the evidence as well as possibly capture the terrorists, but we could use your help in opening a few doors.”

“I'm sorry, Dr. McKenna. The FBI as well as Homeland Security is running this show, not me.”

Lauren took a carefully measured breath. “Get us past security at Dulles, and we'll do the rest.”

“Dr. McKenna,” General Porter continued, “if you think about the situation, you'll find there aren't really any options here. We have protocols—”

Lauren heard her own phone ring. “General Porter. If you fire on those planes, you'll not only kill the passengers and crew, but the fallout from the anthrax will kill thousands more. That's on you.”

“Dr. McKenna, I won't—”

She cut Porter off midsentence and answered her phone.

“Yes or no?” she said to Keller.

“West side of the B Concourse. A man will be waiting for you at door seventeen. His name is David.”

Lauren ended the call and turned to Buck. “North side of B Concourse—door seventeen. Keller says someone named David will be waiting for us.”

“Who in the hell is Keller?” Michael asked.

“A Mossad agent we met last night.”

Buck swung around a taxicab as if it were standing still. “We can either breach the fence, or we go through the terminal. I say breach the fence and apologize later.”

“How about we go through the gate at the Eco-Watch hangar,
drive across the perimeter of the airport, and get to Concourse B without committing major felonies,” Michael offered.

“The gate at Eco-Watch,” Lauren replied. “Going through the terminal puts us at the mercy of the TSA. I think we all know that's not a solution to anything.”

“Send a message to Donovan,” Michael said. “Tell him to be ready. We're going to get the Airbus to dump fuel.”

Lauren nodded. She could feel the tips of her fingers buzzing from the adrenaline and her heart was pounding feverishly in her chest. When she looked up, Buck was roaring down a frontage road toward Eco-Watch. To the side of the hangar was the gate that led to the ramp.

“Pull up to the left side. I've got my key card.” Michael lowered a rear window, swiped his card, and punched in a code. Moments later the gate sprang to life and began to trundle open.

The instant the gate permitted, Buck slammed down on the accelerator and they powered across the open tarmac, lights flashing, leaving Eco-Watch far behind. The tires squealed as he turned and joined up with a vehicle service road and raced toward the distant terminal.

Lauren kept looking at her watch. Buck slowed as they became visible to the control tower. He crossed part of the open tarmac and swung parallel to Concourse B.

“That's door twenty,” Lauren pointed. “Straight ahead. Seventeen, I can see it!”

Lauren threw off her seatbelt and was opening the door before Buck slammed to a complete stop. As the three of them ran toward the door, it opened from the inside.

“You must be David.” Lauren said as she slipped her DIA credentials out of her pocket and clipped them to her belt.