Dennis, a Category 3 hurricane, barrels toward the Florida Panhandle after lashing Cuba. With 125 mph sustained winds, the storm threatens to become to a ferocious Category 4, amazing experts with the speed at which it strengthens. In their view, Dennis bears terrifying resemblance to Ivan the Terrible, the $7 billion disaster that ransacked the Gulf Coast merely 10 months earlier. Authorities have instituted voluntary or mandatory evacuations for the more than 1.2 million people throughout the Gulf Coast.

The worst has happened. Dennis is now a Category 4 storm. Its maximum sustained winds reach 145 mph--with higher gusts. Storm surge is forecasted to peak at 19 feet. Isolated rainfall at landfall could total 15 inches. The modeling companies have estimated worst-case-scenario losses as high as $11 billion. The National Hurricane Center warns that the storm is "EXTREMELY DANGEROUS."

Noon CDT, Sunday, July 10

The National Hurricane Center reports, "Dangerous Hurricane Dennis within a few hours of landfall ... Preparations to protect life and property should already have been completed."

Early on Sunday, whether they were holed up in Jacksonville waiting out the storm, or monitoring it on their laptops in Bermuda, businesses owners, risk managers and insurers held their breath, prayed, crossed their fingers or did whatever it took to make themselves feel better. Dennis was coming, and he looked mean.

Meanwhile, Bud Trice, vice president and head of Crawford & Co.'s Catastrophe Services Group, aimed his forces right at the storm and pulled the trigger. From headquarters in Atlanta, he activated his PROACT team, an administrative and managerial support group that included experts on facilities, IT, HR, training, and compliance and licensing, to choreograph the effort. Trice prepped his PROACT team with questions on "what if, what if, what it"' for any eventuality that Dennis might throw at them.

Hundreds of adjusters were contacted and placed on standby. When Dennis neared, the decision was made to deploy them to a common location. PROACT targeted Mobile, Ala., for a temporary base of operations. About an hour's drive to the east, Pensacola, Fla., which appeared to be directly in the path of the storm, was chosen to be the site for the "Armageddon station."

PROACT leased the on-site space and sent 10 computers, high-speed scanners, fax and photocopy machines, the spare coffeemaker, and other office equipment and supplies from Atlanta headquarters to furnish Armageddon station.

To make sure his team would have the tools they needed no matter how flattened Pensacola ended up, Trice dispatched a satellite truck. Weighing in at more than 24,000 pounds, the truck was loaded with as many as 15 satellite phone lines, Internet access for as many as 256 users, 150 gallons of diesel and 100 amps of output, enough juice for a broadcast to the Atlanta headquarters and another feed if necessary.

All of this had to reach Mobile, Pensacola, Panama City, Apalachicola and all other affected communities as early and as safely possible. Otherwise, insurers could be left with thousands of claims--totaling billions of dollars--and no estimates. Business owners would be left with losses and no cheeks.

"You can't wait until the claims are piling up before you act," says Trice.

DENNIS JUST A MENACE

Within only hours of the coast, Dennis decelerated as the hurricane passed over cooler water and was weakened by its own thunderstorms. When the storm eventually made landfall at Santa Rosa Island, Fla., on Sunday at 2:30 p.m. CDT, its winds were sustained at a healthy 120 mph--still worthy of Category 3--but far less fearsome than the 145 mph-plus blasts that it packed earlier that morning. Moreover, Dennis was smallish compared to Ivan, and it moved fast through the area, unlike Ivan, which squatted on the area for 12 hours.

"Florida dodged a bullet," says Trice.

Dennis' eye swept over Pensacola, but the worst of it roared east of the city through sparsely populated lowlands and small Florida beach communities like Pace, Milton and Navarre. Whereas most major hurricanes tear a track 30 to 40 miles on either side where they make landfall, Dennis' swath was a mere 8 miles. As Trice put it, it was like a tornado had come through, without the severity of a tornado.

This turn of events seemed heaven-sent for most of the people who lived and worked in Pensacola. They had dodged Armageddon. Trice, on the other hand, had committed money, personnel and equipment to Pensacola the weekend before with the idea that it all would be needed during the weeks, possibly months, to come.

Instead, Trice found himself in Mobile, on Wednesday, July 13, standing before approximately 200 adjusters, telling them that at least half would have to go home. From what Trice had heard, actual numbers of insurance claims were only 20 percent of the predicted number, and these were trickling in slower than the drizzle from the gray clouds above. One client, for instance, notified Trice on Thursday that instead of the 40 adjusters it had requested earlier, it would now need only five.