Drone Threat

15

Pearce smelled the tobacco stink on Tanaka’s breath. The man’s bulging eyes were just inches away, mouth twisted in a rictus of hate, arms trembling with exertion.

The dim blue LED barely lit the black void they fought in. Tanaka’s fingers dug deeper into Pearce’s throat. He panicked, but not from the fight. The closed space was a coffin with the lid nailed shut. He couldn’t breathe.

Pearce gripped Tanaka’s fingers and twisted with all of his strength, but they were steel bands, unyielding. Pearce was bigger and stronger but Tanaka’s hate was stronger still. He felt the man’s murderous rage coursing through his quaking hands, cutting off the last air in Pearce’s throat.

Now he really couldn’t breathe. The oxygen was gone. His lungs burned. Pearce’s strength gave way. He strained every muscle to break Tanaka’s iron grip. Useless.

Pearce’s heart thundered in his ears. Pain exploded inside his skull. The light snapped out.

Pearce shuddered. Tried to scream.

Nothing.

Pearce’s eyes snapped open. It was dark but not completely, thanks to the blue glow of the digital clock.

3:17 a.m.

His heart raced. He breathed deeply to push away the panic. He rolled his head to the side. Myers was still asleep. Thank God. Sometimes his nightmares woke her and she could never go back to sleep.

He lay as still as he could, waiting for his heart rate to drop. Reminded himself it was just a dream. The same dream that came to him night after night. There were others, too, but this one was the worst.

He shouldn’t have killed Tanaka the way he did. His anger always got the best of him. He fought angry. Always had. Since he was a kid. And all the way through the cage fighting in college. And in the war. Especially the war. Didn’t know any other way. He could turn the rage on like a fire hose. Instincts cut in, fear melted away. Early called him the Zen master in battle. Pearce always appeared calm, cool, emotionless. There was machinelike efficiency in his target selection and dispatch. But that was on the outside.

He quit the war, but the fury remained, a smoldering ember deep inside. The slightest breath, and it became a roaring fire.

Tanaka lit the flame when he killed Pearce’s old friend Yamada. In his mind’s eye he saw Yamada’s butchered corpse again, and just like that, the rage welled up like a flash fever.

3:18 a.m.

Pearce tamped the fury back down. Willed his friend’s corpse away. He took a deep breath. Told himself again that he shouldn’t have killed Tanaka the way he did.

Shouldn’t have buried Tanaka alive.

It was the worst death he could imagine, but Tanaka deserved it for the crime he had committed. But then again, who was he to end a life? And who was he that he could end Tanaka’s life in such a terrible way?

Pearce sighed. Myers stirred. He froze. Waited for her breathing to slow again. Lying here wouldn’t do any good. The dream had dumped adrenaline into his bloodstream like the crack of a large-caliber bullet zipping over his head.

He carefully worked his way out from beneath the sheets and gently lifted himself out of bed. Might as well get prepped for a damned long day. He glanced over at Myers’s nightstand. Her bionic pancreas was on the wireless charging pad. The levels looked good.

Pearce went into the walk-in closet to grab his robe. Technically, they still weren’t living together, but she’d bought him a few more things since he was there a lot of the time anyway.

Yeah, she was old-fashioned, for sure.

Pearce stood barefoot in the kitchen as he watched the last of the boiling water disappear in the pour-over filter. It took longer to make coffee this way but it tasted better. He was getting tired of everything he put into his mouth first having to run through plastic tubes. Steel and glass were better. The aroma of the rich, dark roast reminded him of cramming for his comps at Stanford, and of nights hovering over a smoking fire in the stone-cold mountains of Afghanistan. He’d been drinking green tea for years for health reasons, but lately his mouth was watering for coffee again, black and strong. He was wide awake but he knew he’d need the caffeine kick before going back over the mountain of pdfs Grafton had loaded into his secured e-mail folder. No point in showing up to the Spanish Inquisition unprepared. If they were going to burn him at the stake, let it be for telling the truth, not for being stupid.

At least the end of the day would be pleasurable. A drive in the Maryland countryside would be a nice diversion. It would be an important meeting with an old friend developing a new anti-drone system that could prove to be very interesting. But he didn’t dare get his hopes up. Building drones turned out to be a whole lot easier than knocking them down.

Tanaka’s screaming face flashed in his mind again. Not the dream face. The real one, raging with terror in the fish-eye camera Pearce had installed in the cylinder. In his mind’s eye he saw the light snap off again and heard Tanaka’s feral screams in the dark.

Pearce tossed the filter and grounds into the trash can and pulled down the biggest coffee cup he could find in the cupboard. He filled it up halfway and took a sip. A smooth, dark roast on the edge of burnt. Perfect.

He set the cup down gently and listened for Margaret. She was a light sleeper but she was exhausted when they came to bed and she had taken a Tylenol PM for a splitting headache.

Certain she was still asleep upstairs, Pearce knelt down in front of the sink and opened the cabinet. He reached far behind the rows of cleaners and detergents until his fingers wrapped around a slim half-pint bottle. He carefully removed the whiskey. He stood and cracked the cap on the brand-new bottle. He sniffed the open mouth. Not the best label he’d ever had, but it was the right size and good enough for a brace against the day ahead. He listened once again for Margaret stirring upstairs. Nothing. He poured until the coffee reached the brim of the cup, then sipped hot coffee down halfway. He set the cup down and poured in some more booze, then sealed the bottle carefully and returned it, closing the cabinet door as quietly as possible. He promised himself he wouldn’t buy any more after this one ran out. He wouldn’t need it after today anyway, one way or another.