The Drone

by Adrian Magson

‘What makes you say that?’ James lifted his head enough to swallow some water, before flopping back on the pillow with a sigh. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘They’re driving like they’re being chased by the devil. And that means it’s time for you to get serious, if you know what’s good for you.’

  James stared at him, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot with lack of sleep. ‘Good for me… or good for you?’ He tried a wry smile, but it didn’t come off, and only made him wince as his lips cracked. ‘You do realise, don’t you, that if these men are what I think they are, there’s no way they’ll let you go free when this is all over?’

  Tommy-Lee shook his head. He could parlay his way out of most any kind of trouble, unlike this guy. ‘You’re wrong. I’ve been hired to do a job and that’s what I’m going to do. They trust me. Fact is, though, these three don’t know shit about what they’re doing, and they’re getting desperate. They’ve been playing with some drones out there and they’ve already smashed two that I know of, maybe more. Now they’ve got three, maybe four left and no more in the cookie jar. That means they’ll do anything – and I mean anything – to get what they want. Now, I won’t hide it from you, that might have got me a little worried, because I get the feeling these are three of the craziest motherfuckers I’ve ever met. And I’ve known more than a few. But I can handle myself in a corner. Thing is, can you?’

  James was staring at him. ‘How do you know that – that they’ve lost the drones?’ He struggled against the cuffs to sit up. ‘You’ve been out there, haven’t you? You watched them.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter what I’ve done – I just think you should know what you’re up against. There’s Paul, the bossman, and a hunk of no-brain muscle named Bill who doesn’t say much, and a skinny geek named Donny who looks like he just stepped out of high school. I reckon he’s the guy you’ve got to teach to fly those drones.’

  ‘No.’ James shook his head. ‘I won’t do it.’

  Tommy-Lee reached under his pillow for the knife. It was time to scare some real sense into this fool. If James stuck to this line of thinking, it meant all bets were off; there wouldn’t be any fifteen thousand bucks and he knew that neither of them would get out of this place alive. But before he could do anything the van drew up outside in a rush and the doors were thrown open and slammed shut. No control this time, he noted, just a few terse words from Paul. The men made no move to come to the door of the room, however, instead moving away towards the hangar, their footsteps fading.

  He jumped up and went to the window in time to catch a brief glimpse of Paul and Bill walking across the grass before they disappeared from sight. No sign of Donny, unless he was off to one side taking a piss.

  He sat on the bed and waited, his head in a spin. Something felt wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what. Then he jumped up again and washed his face and took a leek. Anything was better than sitting there waiting for the hammer to fall.

  The movement seemed to stir the air in the room, and the smell of their unwashed bodies and the near-full latrine bucket along with some rotting fruit in one of the boxes nearly made him throw up. He’d somehow managed to zone all that out for the past few days, as if it was all in his imagination; but suddenly it had all become real again.

  He threw down the filthy T-shirt he’d been using as a washrag and took a turn around the room; two paces one way, two the other. All the time he could feel James’s eye on him. He felt like a caged bull he’d seen at a rodeo down south one time, the animal locked in a pen too small for its hunched muscle and sinew, and ready to break out in a burst of fury.

  Then there was the rattle of the key in the lock and the door was thrown open.

  It was Paul. He had one hell of a face on him and was carrying the semi-automatic Tommy-Lee had seen before. Only now it was out in the open. He didn’t look as if he’d had much sleep and was about ready to cap somebody out of sheer spite.

  Tommy-Lee stood and waited. He didn’t know what had happened, but it wasn’t good, he could tell that much. And as he’d learned over a lifetime in some dangerous places, a man who takes to waving a gun around when he doesn’t have to is quite likely to use it on the first person he sees who gives him good cause.

  ‘The situation has changed,’ Paul announced, looking at James. ‘I don’t need you to teach anybody how to fly the drones.’

  ‘So what are you going to do – shoot me?’

  ‘No. I mean you’re going to fly them for me.’

  ‘What?’ James looked as if he didn’t care. ‘You’re crazy. Why should I help you?’

  In response, Paul lifted the gun towards Tommy-Lee and pulled the trigger.

  The shot was deafening in the confined space, and Tommy-Lee was spun round by the force of the bullet snatching at his ribs. It was like being hit with a baseball bat. He fell over onto the bed and screamed as a jolt of pain went through him, and saw the wall behind him was now ghosted with a red mist, with a hole drilled in the center.

  ‘Jesus! What the hell was that for?’ He clutched his side, then gagged as his hand brushed the open edges of the wound. His fingers came away sticky with his blood and he felt sick and nearly passed out.

  ‘That’s because I can, Mr Roddick,’ Paul said calmly. ‘And to demonstrate what I will do if I have to. Frankly, I don’t care if you never leave this place alive. It’s all the same to me.’ He turned to James. ‘But I think you’ve clearly underestimated what I will do, so take that demonstration as a reminder. Also,’ he reached over and picked up the DVD player from the chair, ‘perhaps I need to remind you about a few things, just to focus your mind.’ He turned on the player and dropped it on the bed.

  ‘What have you done?’ James cried, lunging against the cuffs, his eyes on the small screen. ‘If you’ve touched my family I’ll never do anything—’

  ‘So far,’ Paul interrupted him, ‘I haven’t done anything to them. But let me remind you of what we’re seeing here. The first footage is outside your home in London, where your charming wife, Elizabeth, is currently staying. Chelsea, I believe the district is called; very expensive, very… safe. But not for much longer. I have a man not a hundred yards from her front door right now. At a phone call from me, he will go in and kill her. But not before using her as he would any common whore.’

  ‘Wait!’ James choked on his anger and tried to sit up.

  ‘Next,’ Paul continued as if he hadn’t noticed, ‘we come to the charming British public school where your son, Ben, is being educated. See the boys walking across the yard? They do that several times a day, going from their dorms to the classrooms and back, and to the dining room. I have two men nearby this time, both skilled at entering premises without alerting anybody. A call from me and they will enter the building and track down your son. There they will kill him in the most appropriate way they can think of. I’ve left that decision to them, but the most silent way will be, I believe, with a knife. Of course, if they should make a noise and be disturbed, then I cannot say who else will die. Probably quite a few of Ben’s friends.’

  ‘You bastard!’

  ‘And lastly, we come to the apartment where Miss Valerie DiPalma lives. A lovely young woman, I can see why you have become… attached to her. But also vulnerable if I make one phone call to the man currently outside the apartment block and awaiting my orders.’ He paused while James looked on aghast as the picture of the apartment block entrance rolled by. ‘Unknown to Miss DiPalma, he has been following her whenever she leaves, and waiting nearby when she stays inside. He has also gained possession of a key to the rear door and emergency stairs. I have to admit that this man is perhaps the least attractive of those who will do what I tell them. He’s an animal and likes to inflict pain, especially on lovely young women. But he also likes to take pleasure in them first. Now, Mr Chadwick,’ he picked up the DVD player and threw it across the room, where it smashed against the wall, ‘what is your answer? I’ll give you ten minutes to think it over. After that you and your family will cease to
exist. Your choice.’

  With that he stood up and walked out, locking the door behind him.

  30

  Ruth and Vaslik were back in the Cruxys office poring over the maps, while Walter Reiks was explaining to an agency temp her duties which included answering the phone, taking messages and holding the fort until a full-time administrator was appointed.

  Chadwick’s original was the main focus and was pinned onto a cork-board on the wall. Ruth had put sticky notes close to the areas Chadwick had circled, and another alongside the word freedom, which had been underlined.

  ‘This has to mean something,’ she murmured, tapping the map with a pen. ‘Why would he write it down and underline it? That’s pretty specific.’

  Vaslik went over to computer on the desk and punched a few keys. ‘If we concentrate on those three states, I’ve got Freedom in Nebraska, described as an unincorporated community in Frontier County.’

  ‘What does that mean – unincorporated?’

  ‘It means it doesn’t have its own governing municipality, but is run by a local township or county.’ He punched another key. ‘There’s a map but not much in the way of a town. If you want to mark it, it’s in the bottom left of Nebraska, close to the county line with Kansas.’

  Ruth put a cross where he said and asked, ‘Is Nebraska flat?’

  ‘You could say that. Why?’

  ‘Airfields. Chadwick was looking for abandoned airfields.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean the area has to be flat; just big enough to put in a runway, same as roads.’

  ‘True. What else do you have?’

  ‘There are two Freedoms in Kansas; one in Bourbon County, population at the last census, five-hundred and five. The other is in Ellis County, population one-hundred and twenty-five.’ He punched more keys and said, ‘Wait. It says there are more communities named Freedom in Kansas. This could take a while.’

  ‘What about Oklahoma?’

  ‘There’s one in Woods County, population two-hundred and eighty-nine.’ He sat back and puffed his cheeks. ‘Checking out these places could take forever; it’s a lot of territory to cover and we could be chasing shadows.’ He stood up and walked over to the map and studied it. ‘There must be dozens of abandoned airfields out there. We can’t get round them all and Google Maps can only show us so much. And why would Chadwick be looking for an abandoned one, anyway?’

  ‘It probably wasn’t down to him. If it was this Paul guy, and he’s planning what we think he’s planning and wants Chadwick to teach him how to fly drones, he’d want somewhere quiet where he wouldn’t have officials or cops breathing down his neck.’ She shrugged. ‘Other than that, who the hell can read the intentions of terrorists?’

  Vaslik nodded. ‘That’s true enough. But why this remote? I mean, Kansas, Nebraska and Oklahoma are all a long way out from the main centres like New York, Washington or Chicago.’

  ‘You’re assuming they plan to hit a big city. What if they have somewhere else in mind?’

  ‘OK, like what? Sporting events, conference venues, government facilities, military bases… the list is endless.’ He raised a hand. ‘Sorry – I don’t mean to be negative, but this is huge. There’s got to be a clue somewhere to narrow it down or we could be going round in circles forever.’

  Ruth nodded. He was right. Without a specific target even the FBI, with all the data crunching facilities at their disposal, would have a hard time convincing anybody that any kind of threat was actually out there. She considered another approach. If you were looking for a target to aim at, did it have to be a fixed one? ‘What would be the biggest propaganda target a terrorist attack could hit in this area? Forget the remoteness or the distance from the big cities.’

  He pursed his lips. ‘I’d go for one of the military bases.’

  ‘Why? Why not a university or college campus, shopping mall or a sports arena? That would get headlines.’

  ‘It would. But they’re soft targets. Hitting them would be nothing like making a successful strike at the US military.’ He went back to the keyboard. ‘And there are… five military bases in Oklahoma alone, one of them an ammunition plant.’

  ‘Ouch. And the others?’

  ‘Let’s see… there are three in Kansas; one of which is Fort Riley with over twenty-five thousand personnel. Nebraska has just one.’ He looked up. ‘Take your pick – they’re all sitting there, all roughly in the same area.’

  She shook her head. Vaslik wasn’t passing off responsibility to her to come up with an answer; he was bouncing it off her to get them both thinking, the way any good team should. Logic told her that a stationery target was just that – a target. But would that really attract the attention of extremists hellbent on creating world-wide headlines? Most military bases were huge, some like cities. But they didn’t usually give out maps to the public showing where the specific locations of personnel or top-level facilities were gathered, which is what most terrorist planners would be looking for. And a strike – even if successful – on a bunch of warehouses or near-deserted training areas would do nothing to gain them the news value they desired, yet the risk involved would be the same.

  She studied Chadwick’s map again. Trying to decrypt the scribbles in the margins had been a major tease from the moment she’d first seen them. Logic again told her that a man like Chadwick was accustomed to dealing in numbers and letters and specific details, a man who had passed through Wall Street and London, then through the US Air Force Intelligence apparatus. All were environments where clear and concise thinking was paramount, and she was willing to bet that Chadwick would not have made these notes without some purpose. Maybe he’d heard them mentioned before he disappeared. They must have meant something at the time, something that had made the analytical side of his brain seek to retain them for consideration later.

  She had an idea. She took the map down and carried it through to a photocopier in the outer office. She made three copies of the margins where the scribbled notes had been made and took them to Reiks and Vaslik.

  ‘Photocopies sometimes make handwritten text clearer,’ she told them. ‘See what you can make from these just by looking at the scribbled notes.’

  They sat and stared at the words, or portions of words. For several minutes there was just the distant sound of traffic in the street below, and a phone ringing in an adjacent part of the building. Reiks stood up and walked round the office a couple of times, then muttered something indistinguishable before going over to the corkboard where he pinned a sheet of plain paper. He wrote down several words, then stood back. ‘That’s what I see. How about you two?’

  Ruth and Vaslik started at what he’d written. Alt… Van… FtSill… McA… Tin.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Ruth. ‘Sorry. Slik?’ She turned and found Vaslik was grinning. ‘What?’

  ‘I’ll leave it to Walter,’ he said.

  ‘Military bases,’ said Reiks. ‘They’re all military bases in Oklahoma.’ He nodded at Vaslik who tapped the keyboard and waited, then nodded.

  ‘He’s right. Oklahoma has five facilities: Altus, Vance and Tinker are all USAF; Fort Sill is army and McAlester is an army ammunitions base.’

  Ruth studied the map again. They were right. It defied logic in one sense, but there could be only one reason why Chadwick had noted down five military facilities in the state of Oklahoma.

  ‘It’s a list of targets,’ she said softly.

  Seconds later Vaslik had Tom Brasher on the phone with the conference button open.

  ‘What’s happening at any of the military bases in Oklahoma in the next two or three weeks?’ he asked.

  ‘Huh? Why? I’m in the middle of something here.’

  ‘Humour us.’

  ‘Military, you say?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I have no idea. Hold on a second.’ He put the phone and they heard him speaking in the background. When he came back, his voice sounded constricted as if he’d chocked on something indigestible.

  ‘Which b
ase are you talking about?’

  ‘Any of them.’ Vaslik named them all.

  ‘Jesus, I hope you’re not serious about this. Where did this list come from?’

  Vaslik explained about the map and the scribbles. ‘Chadwick was researching some issues to do with abandoned airfields, but he also made notes of these places, although we have no idea why.’

  ‘Well, I hope to hell he wasn’t serious,’ Brasher muttered, ‘because the day after tomorrow, Air Force One will be landing at Altus Air Force base where the president is due to give an inspection and talk to the personnel.’

  For several seconds nobody spoke; the implications were frightening. Finally Brasher broke the silence, ‘Perhaps you’d better tell me what it is you think you’ve discovered.’

  Vaslik looked at Ruth and nodded. She said, ‘We think Paul and his friends are planning a strike of some kind on the base using the drones stolen from Memphis.’

  ‘Drones? How?’

  ‘We don’t know… but if you recall what Patric Paget told us about the modifications his techs made to the Moskitos for dispersing smoke, it won’t be explosives.’

  There was a further stunned silence while Brasher digested the idea. Then another voice joined in somewhere in the background and Brasher muttered an obscenity. ‘Are you at Cruxys?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, stay fucking put – I’m coming over.’

  Somewhere in the building a phone rang, then stopped. Walter Reiks went off to check on the agency worker. When he came back he was looking puzzled and irritated.

  ‘What’s up?’ said Ruth.

  ‘I’m not sure. Did you leave word with anybody about your movements?’

  ‘No. The office in London, but that was all. Why?’

  Walter stuck a thumb over his shoulder. ‘The agency temp just took a call from the London office asking if you’d arrived yet. She told them yes, but the caller rang off without leaving a message.’

  Ruth exchanged a look with Vaslik, then picked up the phone and called London with a simple question.