Whirlwind 01 - Finish Line - Pt. 05

Colleen shook herself and punched in Ariana's phone number.

Nathan worked quickly. He had to do this, and the helicopter pilot had her orders, but he had many other things to do and the urgency lent strength to his muscles.

The cabinet meeting was noisy and non-productive and the tired edginess of all in attendance was not helping. There was a hard knock on the door and Nathan bustled in followed closely be a couple of flustered security personnel with very sore shoulders. Half of the cabinet members recognized him as he walked confidently up to the prime minister and firmly shook his startled hand.

"Good afternoon, Prime Minister, I am Nathan Moore. My Fantastic Race teammate, Ariana Collins, asked me to help out with your emergency. I have brought two planes of supplies into the airport and have set up an international fund to collect money for further supplies." Nathan checked his phone, "Which has roughly twenty million dollars in it right now."

"You have twenty million dollars available?" the Prime minister repeated with impatient incredulity.

Nathan taped his smart phone screen. "Sorry, not twenty million - twenty-one million. If this takes much longer, it will be twenty-two, and I'd much rather be using it than letting it sit in the account." Nathan looked at the fussy little man with a wry smile. "The Madri-Gals are quite popular world-wide; their appeal carries weight."

The Prime minister eyed him shrewdly. "But less, I expect, than Team Number One."

Nathan shrugged. "What do you need?"

"We're still comin through tha priorities," one of the ministers piped up. "Then we need to check tha finances an what is allowed under applicable laws and statutes...."

Nathan cut her off, politely but firmly. "Almost all power is out. People with electricity can do things and keep in touch. People isolated in the cold and in the dark start acting - irrationally." He held up his phone. "I'm in touch with six hospitals. Three are having problems with their fuel supply, so I have three helicopters flying in from Plymouth, England, with 2000 liters of diesel fuel each. The first delivery is in," he checked the phone, "37 minutes. I'm also in touch with twelve fire stations and eight police stations. Six of them are having problems with their emergency generators, I have six helicopters coming in with replacement generators and maintenance personnel. The first should be here in," another check, "92 minutes."

One minister puffed up like an enraged bullfrog and croaked, "Who gave ye tha AUTHORITY ta ... ."

Another minister waved impatiently and spoke loudly over the bullfrog's croaks. "All o the lines are down, and the cell towers are either toppled er out. Radios seem ta be hit or miss. How are ya communicatin, then?"

"After it dropped off the initial loads of relief supplies, my helicopter dropped off a number of satellite phones to all the stations I could identify via my mapping program and any other Internet resource I could find." Nathan pulled a satellite phone and a notebook out of his backpack. "Here's a satellite phone and a notebook of all the phones I have distributed so far. With these for long range communication and portable radios for short range communication, reasonably effective coordination should be possible." One of the ministers snatched the two items and hurried from the room.

"I also have a search and rescue task force on the way. They should be here in a little more than four hours." Nathan smiled tiredly. "They are bringing their own food for their search dogs, but the handlers will have a powerful thirst by the time they land, and would appreciate a pint or two before they head out into the city."

"I repeat...," the minister puffed, face redder by the minute, "...on whose AUTHORITY are you taking all these actions?"

"Why, your ambassadors of Irish culture. the Madri-Gals. They called up, quite concerned, and asked if I could contact their families. I promised I would, and advised them to stay on tour and raise money for the emergency." He glanced at his phone again. "Okay, twenty-two million now."

"How are you gettin through with all the lines down in tha middle of a snowstorm?"

"Satellite link, with extra batteries in my backpack." The grin was cheeky. "I hate being out of touch."

"An wha do ye want for yer efforts?"

"Me? Nothing. Glad to be of service. If any of you are watchers of the Fantastic Race, you know that I have great respect - and affection - for the Irish. However, I do have some eventual requirements."

"Right, here it comes," the bullfrog minister croaked, thumping the meeting table.

"You see, we didn't have time to get visas and there was no one available at the airport to stamp our passports, so eventually the paperwork will need to catch up," Nathan told the prime minister, ignoring the thumper.

"An who is wit you?" asked the prime minister.

"I came in with two C-130s with five flight crew each. One helicopter pilot. Two helicopter mechanics. Four volunteers, all emergency medical technicians. And myself. We all have valid US passports, and we've all been here before under less stressful circumstances."

"I think we can handle tha," the prime minster smiled wryly, shaking Nathan's hand again.

The Madri-gals were in Kansas City, and the theater was sold out -- for three performances.

Trouping out on stage, waving and smiling and nodding, and the audience responding with a round of spontaneous applause, the five women were perfect expressions of feminine grace. Gradually the applause ebbed and Marie spoke. "Thank you all fer yer verra warm welcome. Tis a great pleasure ta be in Kansas City agin." Waiting for the second round of applause to fade was an opportunity for more smiles and waves. "An we just wanted ta let ya know tha we appreciate our fans so much tha we hesitate ta ask ya, but ya know our home town o Dublin was hit verra badly by an earthquake just a few days ago, and they are still digging people oot. If ya would please consider donating somethin fer the relief efforts back home. There are boxes in the back o the theater, or ya kin go ta www.madrigals4ireland.com and make a donation tha way. Either would be much appreciated."

Stepping forward, Ariana added, "An Team Number One would also appreciate yer good wishes, yer prayers, an anythin you can donate."

Applause exploded across the audience in waves, and hundreds of people stood, many whistling or yelling, "Anything for Team Number One!" To one particularly loud cry of, "Where's Nathan?" Ariana stood, arms akimbo, and responded. "Where be Nathan? Why he is in Dublin, helpin oot." The cheering doubled as the women retreated from the stage.

"Thas it," Marie grumbled. "From no on, yer gonna be doin tha talkin."

Within eighteen hours of Ariana's call, she was talking to her sister on the phone. Within three hours more, each of the troupe had spoken to some family member back home; most had gotten reasonably good news, a few had gotten bad news, but all had made contact.

No one mentioned betting against Team Number One again.

The next two weeks were a blur for the entire Madri-Gals troupe, everyone down to the pan flute player was interviewed multiple times per day, and more performances were scheduled as the tour caravan sprinted across the country. The busses never had to pay for gas, however many hundred gallons they guzzled, and no one had to pay for a meal or a drink. And for the few spare moments, the company watched the television for every broadcast from home. And there wasn't a newscast which didn't feature Nathan doing something to help someone, or thanking everyone on behalf of the Madri-Gals and Team Number One, or asking for assistance. Finally, dead-tired night ...

"Ariana, Nathans on the telly agin," Linnae called.

`The screen was instantly the center of attention, with Ariana in front.

The president of Ireland was addressing his nation, and, indeed, the international community, and was being carried live on international news. He stood on a podium decked in the tricolors, orange, white and green, at a lectern draped in the black of mourning. Ariana didn't note this with much interest, she was focused on Nathan, who was standing just behind and to the right of the President. He looked worn, with haggard eyes and drawn lips. In the manner of all politicians, the president was speaking in carefully measured cadences, intended to convey authority and dignity. "It is with a heavy but thankful heart that I inform you that no more of our countrymen are missing. By great effort and the tireless assistance of our many friends, all missing persons have been accounted for. Tragically, 857 are confirmed dead, 3241 were injured to varying degrees and are recovering in appropriate medical facilities, and there are few indeed who have not suffered a loss among family or friends. Yet this calamity has brought out the best in all of us. Neighbor risked life and limb to help neighbor, regardless of any differences. Strangers, some from halfway around the world, came to help other strangers, whom they did not know before and may never see again. The outpouring of time, talent and resources, the opening of the hearts around the world to our misfortune, has been humbling and heartening. I wish to thank everyone involved, most profoundly, for this gift of humanity. To mark the end of the Response phase, I am declaring a national day of mourning for this Thursday, all flags are to be flown at half-staff, all public places are to display black, everyone should find at least a few minutes during the day to reflect on those who lost their lives, and at noon, the nation shall observe one minute of silence, together, as one people, as one family." The president paused, and Ariana was startled to hear Cassie sniffle. Then the president continued, lifting his head higher and smiling slightly. "And the day after, this Friday, to mark the commencement of our rebuilding and recovery, I am declaring a national day of celebration. A holiday is declared, all but essential public services are suspended, and we all, as one nation, along with our friends, shall toast the future. The culmination of this will be a concert given in the capital's soccer stadium by our ambassadors of culture, the Madri-Gals, whose persuasive appeals succeeded in raising nearly two hundred million dollars to fund the prompt and effective initial response which undoubtedly saved many lives."

The rest of the speech was lost in shouting and cheering as the troupe realized the president was talking about them.

Daniel stood on a chair and raised his arms. "Tis true, with the tour windin up, we will be back home on Friday, and we will be performin in the national soccer stadium ta fifty thousand people, and they'll hea monitors set up outside, and it will be broadcast - well - everywhere."

Everyone else was cheering, or drinking, or shouting excitedly, but Ariana only had one thought; on Friday she would see Nathan again.

CHAPTER 18 - Misunderstanding

The airliner was making the miles flow by at a wondrous rate.

Occupying the seat next to Ariana was Marie. Since she knew her family was safe and quickly rebuilding, courtesy of a satellite telephone, she was free to pay attention to her friend; and trying to read Ariana's body language was more intriguing than any novel; she fidgeted in her seat, picked through the in-flight magazine, looked out the window, called up the arrival time on the seat screen, and started over again, all the while fairly broadcasting the impression that if the pilot couldn't get the plane to fly any faster, she would get out and push. Finally Marie couldn't take it any longer. "You are as twitchy as a mouse in a house full o cats; what's wrong?"

Ariana hesitated for a long time, staring at the arrival time counter on the seat screen. She let out a long breath and said, quietly, "I want ta see Nathan."

"I thought ya didna want ta see him?"

"I want ta talk ta him before the concert at the stadium. I need ta settle wit him."

"Ya could just text him - nice an clean an not too personal."

"I want it ta be personal. I want ta be face ta face so I will no chicken oot."

"Chicken oot o what?"

"Acceptin his proposal."

Marie opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. It was an accomplishment to pry this much out of Ariana. Cautiously she ventured, "Are ya certain tha would be ..."

"Of course I'm no certain! But I do know I feel miserable wit oot him, an I am sure he is missin me. The thought of such a thin as second chances even fer hopeless cases is like a glass of Guinness on a hot day."

"Did ya let him know ya wanted ta see him?"

Ariana shook her head, still staring at the arrival time counting down. "I can't get a signal here. The attendant says the system is down. I don want Nathan ta think It's just because what he's done for me - an whatever he says on the telly, however much he did ta help a country an a people, I ken he really did it because I asked." She tore her eyes away as the counter ticked off another minute and gave Marie a sour smile. "An what I intend ta say, I don want some snoopin tabloid hacker ta pick off the Internet." She returned to staring at the counter. "He'll be awaitin fer me, noo it."

The view of the runway was perfect, and the chartered executive jet was undergoing fueling and final checks just outside the door. Nathan sat, with more resolution than patience, keeping exhaustion at arm's length. He was alone and preferred it that way; after everything he had done for the past three weeks, orchestrating the perfect, discrete exit hadn't been all that hard, though he was on his third espresso as he fought sleep - and the indignity of the flight crew having to carry his snoring form onboard. A glance at his watch showed that Ariana's plane should be landing in 20 minutes, and the stubborn streak in his soul which would niggle away at him over unfinished jobs, just wouldn't let him leave until she was safely home.

The throat clearing behind him should have made him jump, but his nerves were too slow and his muscles too tired, so he had to settle for turning around with a sigh.

The woman was tall and slender, with shoulder-length dark hair which had been bullied into doing a credible imitation of being naturally curly. Her blue eyes scanned him head to toe as he fought off a great urge to be - impolite - and ask her to leave.

"Nathan Moore, I'm Eileen Burns. I'm with the newspaper. I was expecting you to be at Gate 7 to Meet the Madri-Gals' plane."

"How did you find me?"

Her smile was sly and smug, and a striking contrast to her casual tone. "Security made all the politicians wait down outside the baggage claim; but more than one security person owes me more than one favor. They let me through and told me where you were waiting."

Nathan shrugged and turned back to stare at the runway.

"Everyone is expecting you to meet the Madri-Gals' plane. Everyone wants to see Team Number One together again."

"I'm honoring a request, if you must know. And I'll be taking off when they are safely on the ground."

"Why?"

Nathan hesitated, his near stupor shoved aside as he realized he had forgotten something. Well, God moved in mysterious ways. "Only if it's strictly off the record, and you promise to do me a favor." Eileen hesitated long enough for Nathan to add, "Last, best offer; take it or leave it."

"What's the favor?

Nathan rummaged in the duffel between his feet and pulled out a thick envelope. "I will need this delivered to the Madri-Gals when they land; Daniel or Ariana; either one, doesn't matter."

"What is it?"

"With so many questions, I cannot doubt you are a reporter," Nathan responded wryly, then sighed. "Anyway, it's an accounting of what I did with the money in the fund established in their name, how much is left, and how to access it."

"Okay. Off the record, and I deliver that."

"Deal." Nathan looked at her, then reached over and took a slim case from the pocket of her finely tailored jacket. He turned it off and slid it back in.

"I was just about to do just that," she said, with just a shade of reproach in her voice.

"My apologies. I will under no circumstances embarrass Ariana, and mine," he lifted his phone, "is on, with your agreement for an Off The Record interview." She gave him a grudgingly respectful smile, and sat down next to him. Nathan sighed. "Okay, I fell in love with Ariana during the Race. When I saw her the night the final episode was broadcast, I proposed. For various reasons, she turned me down. When we parted, amicably, because I respect her reasons, she said that we shouldn't see each other again. I agreed on the condition that she wouldn't hesitate to call me if she really ever needed something. She called me after the quake, and that's why I came here. And that's why I'm going now, to keep the other half of the promise." He looked away out the window, where a huge airliner had just touched down, and was taxiing out of sight. "Besides, showing up at the gate would seem too much like, 'Look what I did for you, I'm expecting you to change your mind.' I wouldn't put her in that position; so I'll just flit away quietly." The flight attendant had just exited his charter jet and was walking toward the small private gate. Nathan felt the press of time, and hurried on. "So I will depend on your discretion and," he handed the bulky envelope over, "your delivery."

"What were her reasons?"

"Personal."

"You know what happened to her first husband?"

"I'm the president of her fan forum; everything in the open literature about Ariana, I've read."

"Do you know why he committed suicide?"

"No. I know Ariana was deeply hurt, but she never brought it up, and I am a gentleman and I never asked." Nathan nodded. "You'll have to hurry if you are going to get to gate 7 before they debark." He stood up. The room swayed alarmingly - the battleground between fatigue and caffeine was a place best avoided Nathan reflected as the flight attendant walked up to him and informed him that it was time to board if they didn't want to miss their departure window. "A pleasure to meet you, Eileen Burns." And he added a phrase in Gaelic which he thought meant that he wished her long life and happiness. From the quirky smile she gave him, he suspected that he had missed the mark, but not too far.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Moore. May the road rise to meet you and may the wind be always at your back."

The airliner came in neat and smooth, the flight crew acutely aware of the precious passengers on board, and the army of cameras undoubtedly imaging their every move.

Ariana barely noticed the landing; her tension had nothing to do with the flight, and everything to do with being the first off the plane. Marie sat next to her and wrestled with what she could possibly say. The moment the plane shifted from its landing roll to taxiing to the gate, Ariana was out of her seat and braced beside the doorway with an anxious expression. Marie saw the flight attendant start to protest and made rapid 'shushing' and throat cutting gestures. The attendant glowered but subsided.

When the jet way was securely anchored to the side of the plane and the door opened, Ariana ran through. She had choreographed this in her mind a hundred times on the flight. She would dash out of the gate, and Nathan would be there, and he would sweep her up, and they would kiss, and she would make him get down on his knee and propose again. He would have the ring; she knew he would have the ring. And they would get to the stadium, and it would be perfect. He was right; there was no reason Team Number One couldn't be Marriage Number One.

But there was no one at the gate except two attendants, two security personnel, a couple of Aer Lingus executives, and a woman with a large envelope. She looked around, and then appealed to an attendant.