Sting of the Drone

41

None of them had slept. Ray had identified Sandy’s body at the Medical Examiner’s building. She had been burned badly, but was recognizable. He did not stay there looking at the charred remains, did not stand by her side and think. He left quickly before the image of her that way froze in his mind. With all of his self-control, he had decided to lock his emotions away in a corner of his brain, a corner he would revisit later when he could deal with it. Now, he told himself, he had work to do. If he let himself go, let himself feel, he would not be able to work, to finish the job. She would want him to finish it. He had to find her killers. He had to kill them.

Erik Parsons had taken his wife to the Emergency Room, where she had been examined and found to be dehydrated, but otherwise fine. They had urged her to spend a day under observation in the hospital. Her hospital room was protected by an FBI Agent and a local policeman. She asked for an Ambien and told Erik to go get some rest. He went back to the GCC.

Dugout had never left the drone operations center. When Ray reappeared at the Operations Room it was three thirty in the morning. His suit had ash and dust on it. His pants were dirty at the knees. His tie was off and his hair was unkempt. He carried a coffee.

“Don’t say anything about her. Not yet,” he said to Dugout and Erik. “Ask your Big Data Analysis thing to find connections between what we have been looking for and model airplanes, radio controlled, big ones, custom. Add model B-52s as a subset.”

He then placed a secure call to White House Signal, the Army-run communications room for the classified networks serving the President and his staff. He asked to be put through to the National Security Advisor. Before Winston Burrell could say anything about Sandra Vittonelli, Ray got down to business.

“Win, we have a tough decision to make and we have to make it now. We have every reason to believe that there is an active plot to conduct bombings in the U.S. in the next forty-eight hours. We don’t know where, but we believe it could involve subways, possibly including Boston’s. If we issue a vague national warning, some people will panic needlessly, but if we say nothing and it happens…” He let the implications of that course go unsaid.

“Right. This is your government advising you to stop your holiday shopping and hunker down because we think something may happen somewhere,” Burrell replied. “The Governor of Massachusetts called the President last night. The FBI has the Gov all spun up. He wanted to issue some sort of Red Alert.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Told him we don’t do colors anymore and for now he should just massively step up police presence and searches, keep hospital ERs fully staffed, but no announcement yet,” Burrell replied. “Told him we hoped to have more information on the plot today. Will we?”

“Maybe, but if we don’t, I would advise that some sort of announcement is going to be necessary later today. It may scare them away for now, give us more time. Or it may panic them into going early. No way to tell,” Ray admitted.

Hanging up the secure line, he turned to see Colonel Parsons busily running several drone missions. “You should be with your wife,” he said to Erik.

“She’ll be asleep for hours. Besides, I got work to do here,” Erik replied.

“Like what?” Ray asked.

Dugout looked at Erik. “Better tell him.”

“All right, but do not try to stop me,” Erik said to Ray. “I have a Global Reach on the way to Kiev and a Reaper en route to this place in Pakistan, DG Khan.”

Ray frowned at Dugout. “I geolocated the servers at the user ends of those VPNs,” Dug said. “The Kiev one is a complex that the CIA and FBI databases show as the warehouse headquarters of the Merezha cyber/narco cartel. It’s heavily guarded and they appear to have bought off the local police.”

“And the other place?” Ray asked.

“A villa outside of a city known as DG Khan. CIA carries it as the headquarters of the Qazzani clan. We did a Pattern of Life a few times before and it was all bad guys, but we never got the political clearance. State objected to hitting anything that deep into Pakistan.”

“Isn’t there also one in the U.S.?” Ray asked.

“It’s routed through Texas, but it’s really just north of Vegas, about five miles from where they were holding Jen. The Bureau and the SWAT guys are going to hit it right after dawn.” Dugout paused. “I asked them if I could go in after they cleared the place to do a first line exploitation on their computers. I’m already in the ones that are online, but they probably have some that aren’t always connected, or are never connected. Anyway, I got into the online ones.”

“Of course you did,” Ray said, sitting down.

“So, can I do it?” Dugout asked. “Can I go with the SWAT guys, I mean after the SWAT guys?”

Ray ran his hand through his hair. “Sure, why the fuck not, we’re about to break all sorts of rules.” He looked at Erik. “Colonel, did you know there’s already an IG investigation of you?”

“Yeah, but I understand they haven’t got anything on me. They asked me to take a voluntary polygraph,” Erik said.

“What’d you say?” Ray asked.

“I told them to get fucked. And then I figured I might as well do something they could actually investigate.”

Ray stared at the Big Board. He saw the Global Reach and the Reaper en route to their targets. “I don’t suppose anyone in Washington has approved those two flights?” No one answered.

“Didn’t think so,” he said to no one in particular.

“The ranch we’re going to hit at dawn?” Dugout said, changing the subject. “We just got this: there’s a mobile phone there that’s been calling another mobile about three miles from here. Narrowed it down to a high school, or near it.”

Ray stood up. “Gimme those coordinates and the number. We still have FBI guys out front. Maybe I’ll drive over there with them. Dugout, you go get out to that ranch and exploit the computers after the SWAT guys hit it.

“Erik, you moved up when Sandy died. You’re in charge here now. Do what you have to do. You’re familiar with the emergency protocol, right? It gives the GCC Director the authority to act in exigent circumstances. With Sandy gone that would be you. You just have to check with the most senior National Security official available. That would be me. And I judge that there is an imminent threat to the lives of Americans who could be killed in a series of terrorist attacks planned by the Qazzani cartel, working with the Merezha gang.”

Ray and Dugout walked to the exit together. “Take ’em out, Colonel, take the bastards out,” Ray said in a loud voice that everyone on the Ops Floor could hear. Then in a quiet voice he said to Dugout, “And let’s hope they haven’t already sent the go signal to their attack cells.”