Free Deadly Echoes by Philip Donlay Page B

The
Pacific Titan
had been attempting to leave port when several small boats attacked and managed to foul the propellers of the two-hundred-seventy-four-foot vessel. Crippled and dead in the water except for the bow thrusters, the alert crew had immediately dropped anchor and brought the ship to a stop. According to the information coming in to Buck, initial reports were that the attacks were carried out by what was suspected to be local fisherman, protesting Eco-Watch’s presumed tactics against their livelihood.
    Donovan, wanting to get free from Buck, had suggested Buck get to Alaska to protect the crew of the
Pacific Titan
and oversee the repairs. Buck had agreed. They’d called Peggy to make the airline arrangements, and further communications had resulted in an FBI promise to rush Buck from the
da Vinci
to LAX, so he could catch his flight to Anchorage.
    With the FBI waiting, Donovan knew it was going to be hectic once they landed, so he did his best to stay in the moment and dowhat he loved most, which was to fly. He drank in the late afternoon sun reflecting off the Pacific Ocean as he slid in above and behind the Delta 757 and called for the final landing check.
    As soon as the
da Vinci
cleared the active runway, Donovan saw the crowd. It had been no secret they’d departed Kauai bound for John Wayne. In the nearly five hours it had taken them to make the trip, hundreds of people had gathered. It looked as if an entire parking lot south of the main terminal had succumbed to the masses. Donovan spotted the array of antennas snaking upward above the fray, marking the position of the media, poised for their footage and overblown rhetoric. He guided the
da Vinci
toward the spot on the ramp where the FBI would be waiting.
    As Donovan eased the Gulfstream to a stop and shut down both engines, he enjoyed the ebb of adrenaline that told him he’d safely arrived after a long flight. Michael was up and out of the cockpit first and stood behind Buck as the former SEAL saw to the task of opening the door and lowering the air-stair to the tarmac. Donovan was thankful that the waiting crowds and media were actually behind the airplane, though off to his left, people lined up along the perimeter fence brandished signs of condemnation. Others were simply taking pictures. As soon as the door was fully opened, three black SUVs pulled up, and men in dark suits wearing communications earpieces piled out of the vehicles and took up positions at the foot of the stairs. Michael and William descended to the tarmac and began shaking hands as the crowd noise rose with protesters’ chants.
    Donovan slipped out of the cockpit, threw on a light jacket, then knelt, and pulled the carpet up from the corner of the forward closet. He typed in the password for the safe he’d had installed and opened the heavy door. Inside was the exact same model of the forty-caliber Sig Sauer that he kept at home. He slid the pistol under his belt in the small of his back and pulled his jacket down to cover it up. He snapped up two extra clips, closed the compartment, and smoothed the carpet back into place.
    Donovan put the clips into his briefcase just moments beforeBuck returned. Buck was about to say something when he stopped, furrowed his brow, then nodded toward the small of Donovan’s back.
    â€œWhere’d you get the gun?”
    â€œI bought it months ago,” Donovan replied, impressed that it took Buck all of three seconds to notice.
    â€œWe both know it’s not legal for you to carry in California. Is it even registered?”
    â€œNo,” Donovan replied.
    â€œDon’t forget to wipe down each shell casing, as well as the clip. People always forget to do that. Use it if you need it, and remember everything I taught you.”
    â€œI will.”
    â€œMichael wants you outside. He says we have a problem.”
    Donovan hurried down the steps and the noise from protesters rose yet again. Police were eyeing