Drone Wars 1: Day of the Drone (22 page)

“
Me?
I’d say the two of you are lucky beyond belief.”

“Who do you work for?” Billy asked once Tiffany had retreated.

The man looked up at Billy. “Fucking nerd,” he said. “Who do
you
think we work for?”

“Duh, let me guess: the bad guys?”

“Bingo. And they pay very well, so I’m sure we’re not the only team out looking for the two of you … and now for you as well, Mr. William Jenkins.”

Xander had the man’s cellphone and was scrolling through his recent text messages. He stopped when he reached one in particular.

“He knows the names of the entire team, Billy, all of us. That could only have come from Jonas.”

Billy focused on the man again. “You work for Jonas Lemon?”

“I’ve heard the name, but he’s not the main guy.”

“Abdul-Shahid Almasi?” Xander asked.

“It’s no secret,” the leader of the assault team acknowledged. “And you should know that he has a lot more men available—and even drones—to get us out of any holding facility the police may put us in.”

As if on cue, three San Diego black-and-white police squad cars entered the grounds through the now open front gate and screeched to a halt at the shattered front door.

“Do you really think Almasi gives a rats-ass about you?” Xander asked before the police entered the house. “Where are they, Almasi and Lemon?”

Just then a pair of weapons-drawn and bewildered policemen entered the living room, aiming their handguns at Xander and Tiffany. By now, they had discarded their weapons and were standing innocently to one side of the sofa.

“Hell if I know,” the man on the floor continued, unfazed by the arrival of the policemen. “Everything is done long-distance these days. They could be in Timbuktu for all I know, or right next door.”

“Mr. Jenkins?” one the policemen asked.

“That’s right,” Billy said, drawing the officer’s attention. “I believe you’re going to need a paddy wagon or two,” he said with a smile. “And by the way, these guys are part of the group who attacked the Rapid Defense Center yesterday, so they aren’t your typical, run-of-the-mill burglars. I’d call in whatever agencies you can think of to make sure they stay in custody and provide all the information they can … through polite and humane interrogation, of course. No waterboarding.” He scanned his wrecked living room. “After all, we wouldn’t want to harm them, now would we?”

The police officer—being on his best behavior in the exclusive area of Rancho Santa Fe—took a moment to scan the room himself, including the line of captives wrapped in baling wire, before nodding to his partner. The second policeman began to speak into his shoulder comm. Another pair of officers entered the room. “Are there any other intruders around we need to know about?” one of them asked Billy.

“Two others got away in a pair of black Suburbans. I captured the license plate numbers on video.”

“Okay,” said the lead police officer. He turned to the others. “Let’s get this scene processed as soon as possible.”

“Representatives from Homeland Security are en route,” one of the other officers reported. “They don’t want anyone leaving until they get here.”

Xander approached the policeman with the sergeant chevron on his sleeve and handed him Winslow’s cellphone. “The people listed here are in danger as well. Can you locate them before anything bad happens to them? They should all be in the San Diego area.”

The officer took the phone. He nodded as he fingered the button on his shoulder communicator. “Sergeant Espinosa to dispatch, I have a list of four names requiring their location and protective units to be assigned. This has something to do with the attack on the Rapid Defense Center, so give it priority status. The names are as follows…” The officer turned away as he read off the names.

Xander, Billy and Tiffany gathered near the dining table. “What now?” Tiffany asked. “You heard Homeland Security is on the way.”

“I guess that depends on whether or not I end up behind bars,” Xander replied.

“Don’t sweat it, buddy,” Billy said emphatically. “The story that’s being spread is that you fought government agents in Idyllwild. Our guests here blow that narrative all to pieces. The rest will fall into place. I think you—and your gorgeous friend here—can relax now. I’ll make sure the Feds take good care of you.”

Billy then turned to glare at the men who had shot up his house. “Do you guys have any idea what you’ve done to my resale value?”

“Boo, hoo, spoiled little rich kid,” said Damien Winslow.

“Hey! Look over there!” Billy suddenly called out, pointing toward the front door. All heads turned in that direction—and that’s when Billy planted a heavy right cross to Damien’s jaw.

The police turned back when they heard the hard clap. A tense moment passed … until Sergeant Espinosa flashed a thin smile. “Okay, let’s get these guys out of here. It’s the least we can do for the homeowner and his guests, after they did our job for us.”

Billy was rubbing his hand when he leaned in close to Xander and whispered: “You know, I’ve never hit anyone before, but I may learn to like it.”

********

An hour later, Billy’s home was still a crowded mess, but this time with agents from Homeland Security and the FBI, along with a dozen military personnel dispatched from the nearby Miramar Marine Air Station.

“You want us to go where?” Xander asked, confused by what he’d just been told.

“Washington, D.C.,” replied a stern, blond-haired man in a blue suit and striped tie. “A van’s outside to take you to Miramar. From there you’ll take a corporate jet to the East Coast.”

“What are we supposed to do when we get there?” Tiffany asked, after having been informed that she was now part of the
you
being referred to.

“That’s above my paygrade, Ms. Collins. I’m just following orders. And by the way, I’m a big fan. I watch you all the time on T.V.”

“Thank you, Mister…”

“Cain. Adam Cain, ma’am. Now, if all of you will follow me, the plane’s waiting.”

“What about a change of underwear?” Billy asked.

Cain smiled. “Everything will be provided for you, and all at government expense.”

Billy laughed and waved a hand around at his oversize living room. “Hell, all of this was provided at
government expense
, so in that case, lead on, Mr. Adam Cain.”

Two hours later they were aboard a military Learjet, crossing over the Grand Canyon and heading east at over six hundred miles per hour. The plush executive aircraft offered wide, leather seats that folded out into full-length beds, and it wasn’t long before all three of the passengers were sound asleep.

Chapter 18

It was already ten in the morning East Coast time on December thirteenth when the jet arrived at Andrews Air Force Base, in the southeastern part of Washington D.C. Surprisingly refreshed by their four-hour naps, the trio boarded another gray military van for the short ride into the city.

Although the back of the van was windowless, Xander was able to see through the front windshield that they were skirting along the length of the Washington Mall and passing the buildings that made up the Smithsonian Institution. He had spent three years in the D.C. area working for DARPA, before moving to the RDC and the dry desert of southern Nevada. The resurrected memories of his time here brought a chuckle to his lips.

He was in his early twenties at the time, handsome and well-paid, which gave him access to all the prurient pleasures the nation’s capital had to offer. He’d shared an apartment in Georgetown with another of the DARPA studs, and the two men made it a habit of tearing up the city nearly every Friday night until early Monday morning, spending money and breaking hearts like there was no tomorrow. By the time the duo broke up, they had become minor legends within the Districts’ under-thirty social crowd.

He chuckled again, thinking how David Charlton had ended up falling in love with a waitress from Applebee’s, and as of five years ago lived in Manassas with Janis and their
four
children. He’d left DARPA and now managed a Best Buy not far from his modest suburban home.

Xander’s nostalgic reverie was broken when the van hit a dip, entering a dark, underground parking garage. He couldn’t see well through the front window anymore, but it seemed that the van spent an inordinate amount of time driving deeper into the structure than was necessary. When the vehicle finally did come to a stop, the rear doors were opened from outside and two Navy MPs stepped aside to let them exit.

Xander had no idea where they were, since this part of D.C. was home to countless government entities, some which most Americans didn’t even know existed. In light of the crisis taking place across the country, this building could house any one of a dozen national security agencies. What this no-name organization wanted from the three of them was anyone’s guess.

They were photographed and then immediately handed temporary ID badges that hung around their necks on silver chains, before being shuffled into a guarded elevator for a ride to an unmarked floor. While in the elevator, Xander couldn’t tell whether they were going up or down.

When the door slid open, more guards greeted them, along with an expressionless man in a gray suit and glasses. “Welcome, Mr. Jenkins,” he said, extending a hand to Billy. Then the suit turned to Xander and Tiffany. “And you, too, Mr. Moore and Ms. Collins.” The slighted pair exchanged hurt looks, feeling like afterthoughts to the man in the gray suit. “If you will follow me, I have some papers for you to sign before we can go any further.”

“Papers?” Tiffany inquired.

“Non-disclosure affidavits, Privacy Act and national security disclosures—you know, the usual.”

“Usual for some people…” Tiffany pointed out. “Just where are we?”

The man stopped and turned to the reporter, locking a laser-like glare on her blue eyes. “I have been authorized to inform you—all of you—that if you do not wish to continue you are free to leave right now. You will be escorted out of the building and moved to a hotel until a return flight to California can be arranged.”

Billy squeezed Tiffany’s arm. “Relax, sweetheart. I have a pretty good idea where we are. This is just their S.O.P.”

The man continued to stare at Tiffany, waiting for her reaction. When she didn’t move towards the elevator, the man turned on his heel and led them down a short hallway to a large, wood-paneled conference room.

The next ten minutes were spent signing forms without letterheads, and when it was done, no copies were provided. Then, as if on cue, the door opened and an older, balding man in a short-sleeve, button-down shirt strode in.

“Welcome, all of you … to DARPA.”

“Why all the secrecy, Nathan?” Billy asked as he shook the man’s hand. “DARPA isn’t exactly unknown, and I can look up your current projects roster online.”

“Those are the projects we
want
you to know about, Billy. They’re the ones we hope our adversaries will try and emulate, just so they’ll throw millions, even billions of dollars, at high-cost, low-yield projects. What we do
here
are the projects we don’t want anyone to know about.”

“Nathan” turned to Tiffany. “Ms. Collins, I understand you feel a responsibility to your profession to reveal all, but I assure you, that by doing so you will cause the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands of innocent people. Some things need to be kept secret, and that’s not out of some sinister purpose to do evil. It’s to keep others from either learning what we know, or building effective defenses against our advances. I hope you understand.”

“After the past few days
I’ve
had, it’s my sincere hope that you have some answers to all the crap that’s been happening. Having gotten a glimpse behind the curtain, I’m feeling pretty damn hopeless and discouraged right about now.”

The man Billy called Nathan shook his head. “I can’t say we have all the answers, but we’re getting close.” Nathan turned to Xander and shook his hand. “I was with DARPA when you worked here, Mr. Moore, yet we never crossed paths. I am, however, very familiar with your work, both here and at the RDC. Welcome.”

“I should have known,” Xander said with a smile. “But I must admit, I’m relieved. I have more confidence in DARPA running things than I do the military.”

“Oh, we’re not running things, Mr. Moore. As a matter of fact, I don’t think anyone is at this time. We’re still trying to gather our wits about us and devise a plan. Now, if you’ll come with me, I’d like to take all of you for a little tour, at least of the departments pertinent to your areas of expertise.”

As they entered the outer hallway and a second elevator, Nathan turned to Xander. “I’m terribly sorry for what happened to the RDC. I’m sure you lost quite a few friends in the attack.”

“I appreciate that, Nathan, but even after the flight out here I’m still pretty much in the dark about the full extent of the damage.”

“Your people are back in control—you probably knew they would be since the lifespan of a UAV is so limited. Yet, as you may also suspect, the damage to your capabilities is extensive. Some command and control is being switched to the old stations at Nellis and Creech, although they’re going to require weeks of upgrading just to get basic communications going again with your remaining bunkers. Tindall Air Force Base in Florida has assumed some other control, as well as the NSA and the CIA.”

“The NSA?” Tiffany asked. “What do they have to do with drone operations?”

“Nothing, really, Ms. Collins, it’s just that they have some of the most-advanced communication equipment on the planet. What’s needed at this time is a way to access the RDC’s surviving drones and deploy them in defensive roles.”

“What about pilots?” Xander asked. “Did very many survive? I was under the impression it was a near total wipeout.”

The elevator stopped and the four passengers exited into another hallway. A four-seater golf cart was waiting and they all climbed in, with Nathan driving, Billy in the passenger seat, and Xander and Tiffany in the back.

“Thirty-nine of your pilots survived, and you might be happy to learn that one of your team was among them, Charlie Fox. He was surfing at the time of the attack.”

“And David Lane?”

“I’m afraid not. He was home at the time.”

“He has a wife and daughter.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You seem pretty-well informed, Nathan,” Tiffany said. “What exactly is your association with the RDC?”

Nathan smiled and glanced over at Billy. “Oh, I have no affiliation with the RDC. It’s just that since the attack I’ve been drafted into providing advice regarding our drone response and countermeasures. Some general at the Pentagon is the actual supreme commander of drone operations now, but he’s apparently smart enough to know when experts are needed. I’ve been given tactical command over our recovery and response.”

“And what about the drone attacks?” Xander asked. “Are they continuing?”

“Unabated, I’m afraid, although a pattern has appeared.”

“What kind of pattern?” Billy asked.

“A possible motive for the attacks.”

Billy looked over his shoulder at Xander in the seat behind Nathan. “I thought revenge was the motive?” Billy said.

“It’s a little more complicated than that, although we understand the link between Jonas Lemon and the RDC. That’s something we’re pursuing, along with Abdul-Shahid Almasi and his own reasons for hating the United States.”

“So what
is
the motive?” Tiffany prodded.

“Economic upheaval.”

“That goes without saying, dude,” Billy said.

“Even so, there’ve been an extraordinary number of attacks on malls and online delivery outlets. Someone is doing their best to make sure the U.S. economy screeches to a halt. But the question we need answered is who benefits from a collapsing U.S. economy?”

“With how interdependent the world’s economies are these days, it doesn’t appear
anyone
could benefit,” Tiffany offered.

“What about the terrorist groups and their sponsors?” Xander asked.

It was Tiffany who answered. “Countries like Iran and Syria sell an awful lot of oil to first-world countries, including the U.S. If we go under, there would be such a glut of oil on the market that their economies would also collapse. And other countries are debtor nations, dependent on our ability to repay our loans or make good on bond interest payments. That’s why it doesn’t make sense for there to be any attacks against America. Without us, the whole planet goes under.”

“And yet the terror organizations, under the sponsorship and protection of these legitimate nations, are hitting us left and right. That seems to go against the argument you just made,” Xander countered.

“Most people don’t actually believe America can be defeated, especially not through terrorist activity. The sponsor nations believe this, too, so they use these organizations to advance a political agenda, while at the same time enjoying the benefits of a prosperous United States. Something has changed, however, if the terrorists are being allowed to continue. It’s common knowledge that Bin Laden was terrified when he saw the towers come down on 9/11. That was so far beyond what he’d been expecting, and a world united against Al Qaeda was something he wasn’t prepared for. The first few years after 9/11 were the worst for international terrorism, up until everyone saw that America was going to come out just fine after the attack. That’s also when politics took over and once again began to dictate U.S. military operations.”

“So you’re saying the terrorists involved in these attacks are not under the control of their traditional masters, that someone else is pulling their strings?”