The Drone

by Adrian Magson

  ‘No, Miss Gonzales,’ was the answer. ‘Nobody called from here.’

  31

  Brasher walked in thirty minutes later with another man in tow. Neither of them looked happy, albeit for different reasons.

  ‘This is SAC John Kraski,’ said Brasher, nodding at his companion. ‘He’s been tasked with overseeing and providing analysis on all current warnings and alerts relating to potential terrorist activities and liaising with the Secret Service. You’ll need to run your latest findings on the Chadwick situation past him.’ His face was a complete blank but none of them needed telling that Brasher wasn’t happy with being coat-tailed by a senior colleague.

  Kraski looked as if he might enjoy chewing six-inch nails for fun. He studied each of the three Cruxys investigators as if they were lab rats, dwelling longest on Walter Reiks, who gave him a sour look in return. Tall and crisp as a window-mannequin, with pale skin and neatly-parted grey hair, Kraski exuded self-importance and an air of impatience.

  ‘I think you’ve already heard pretty much everything we have,’ said Reiks, ‘but why don’t we sit and talk?’ Without waiting for anyone to answer, he walked along the corridor into a meeting room that smelled of fresh paint. There was a table and eight chairs, but nothing else. ‘I’m sorry for the lack of facilities,’ he said, gesturing for them to sit down, ‘but we’re just getting set up.’

  ‘Who’s in charge here?’ Kraski asked bluntly.

  ‘I am.’ Reiks nodded at Ruth and Vaslik. ‘My two colleagues, Ruth Gonzales and Andy Vaslik, are over from the London office conducting a search for a missing client, James Chadwick.’

  Kraski didn’t offer to shake hands, but gave a curt nod and sat down. ‘OK, so where are you on this Chadwick business?’

  ‘We have reason to believe that James Chadwick has been kidnapped by at least two men with extremist links – that is to say, extremist Islamic links – who appear to be connected to the theft of six drones from the FedEx hub at Memphis International. These drones are very high-spec machines which have been modified in such a way that they could be used as weapons.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘We’re working on that.’

  ‘Really.’ Kraski looked at them in turn, his expression sceptical. ‘It’s a bit thin, isn’t it?’

  ‘We don’t think so, Mr Kraski,’ Ruth said carefully. ‘The evidence we’ve gathered suggests Chadwick could be coerced into fly the drones.’ She placed Chadwick’s map on the table. ‘We know Chadwick was researching airfield sites in remote areas of the States just before he disappeared, and—’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We’re not sure, but bearing in mind his prior service in USAF Intelligence, we can only assume that he was given enough information to prompt him to look into the background of this plan. He’s an expert in drone technology so it’s safe to assume he knew they would want to do the training somewhere remote and free of observation by the authorities. He was probably only part-way through his research when he disappeared.’

  ‘That’s a lot of supposition.’

  ‘You’re right, it is.’ Ruth met his scepticism without flinching. ‘In addition, we know he singled out five military bases in Oklahoma, one or more of which we think may be the eventual target for an attack.’

  ‘And you believe that target might be Altus, am I right?’ Kraski glanced at Brasher, although apparently not to get confirmation; the look wasn’t that friendly.

  ‘It’s not unreasonable. Your president is going to be there the day after tomorrow. We think the people planning this would view it as a prime piece of propaganda if they could carry out a two-pronged attack in the same place; one on a military facility, the other on the person of the US president.’

  Kraski grunted. ‘Right. So let me get these details straight.’ He stared up at the ceiling with a puzzled frown. ‘You claim to have a group of terrorists who may or may not have stolen a consignment of small commercial drones; these same men have tried to coerce or may now have kidnapped a business consultant who allegedly has some experience in flying model aircraft or UAVs, to assist in what you believe is an attack on the president; this same consultant, from what you’re saying, has left a number of clues which point towards this attack taking place in Oklahoma. Is that it?’

  Ruth didn’t answer; a portion of her mind was focussed on who might have called for her earlier, and what it might mean. The fact that the call had purportedly come from the London office could mean only one thing: somebody had made a connection to the very recently setup New York office, and that person now knew where she was. The big questions were, who had called and why?

  She pushed it to one side and focussed once more on Agent Kraski. His tone of hostility was abundantly clear, but she couldn’t think what was causing it save for a huge dose of self-importance.

  ‘Look at the map,’ suggested Vaslik. ‘It’s all there.’

  But Kraski ignored him. ‘May I ask what is your background for this, Miss Gonzales? Have you worked in counter-terrorism before this?’

  ‘I was in the British army for a number of years and then in the Ministry of Defence Police,’ Ruth said. ‘So yes, there’s been a strong element of counter-terrorism work in what I’ve done. Is that a problem?’

  ‘Not for you, I don’t suppose.’ Kraski’s voice was casual, almost dismissive. ‘But for me it certainly is. Do you know how many crazy, off-the-wall threats we hear about and investigate every week? Can you imagine how many man hours we would have to rack up if we took every apparent threat to its ultimate conclusion? So far you haven’t told me how these toys will be used. I’m no expert but even I know they don’t have much range or payload. Yet you say they’ll be flown at this target and somehow used as a weapon?’

  ‘Two-point-five kilos,’ said Vaslik. ‘And they’re not toys.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Two and a half kilos. The payload of the stolen drones. That’s over five pounds. And they have a range of nearly twenty miles and can fly at anything up to seventy miles per hour.’

  Kraski looked as if he had swallowed a bug. ‘So?’

  ‘Have you any idea what five pounds of C4 going off twenty feet above your head would do?’

  The silence was intense, and Kraski looked embarrassed. As he and everybody else in the room knew, the concussive effects alone would be enormous, killing the closest and causing irreparable trauma to ears, eyes and brain to many more.

  ‘You’re forgetting something, SAC Kraski,’ said Walter Reiks with a polite bite. ‘While a Special Agent in several field offices with the Bureau, I handled a great many terrorist and serious organised crime threats. Based on the evidence I’ve seen so far, I consider this one to be real and imminent. This man Chadwick has disappeared, he was under surveillance by at least one individual with known extremist views and the drones were stolen with the help of another man with the same extremist connections. Furthermore, Miss Gonzales, Mr Vaslik and your own colleague here, Special Agent Brasher, were assured by the manufacturer that the drones are capable of dispersing powder, or can be further modified to disperse a spray.’ He prodded the air with his words. ‘A spray. That’s really not something I’d care to ignore.’

  Kraski flushed, although whether at the former FBI man’s quiet tone of reproof or his reminder that he had been a field agent of long standing wasn’t clear.

  ‘That’s as may be, Mr Reiks, but I’ve seen stronger evidence of other threats than this which have turned out to be just as unimpressive. You and your colleagues are asking us to believe that this man Chadwick is embroiled in a threat against the president’s life. Well, on what you’ve just said and what Special Agent Brasher has told me, I can’t see it.’

  ‘But will you at least issue a warning to the president’s security detail?’ Ruth asked. ‘Or better still, call off his visit?’

  ‘I most certainly will not. In these troubled times there is always a threat level on the president’s life, we’re aware of that. But if what you’re
suggesting is that this inspection and talk should be cancelled, you can forget it. The president does not cancel his plans for anybody.’ He stood up and threw a look at Brasher. ‘I’ll see you back at the office.’

  After Kraski had gone, Brasher lifted his hands in apology. ‘Look, I’m sorry. But we’re being run ragged at the moment and everybody’s trying to second-guess the next ‘event’. Kraski’s been sent to us to help analyse the threat levels and likely seriousness of something being carried out, and he’s juggling balls just like everyone else.’

  ‘Balls is right,’ said Ruth. ‘He couldn’t have dismissed it more openly if he’d tried.’

  Brasher nodded. ‘Look, I can’t openly help you if Kraski kicks this into the long grass, and I’ve already been assigned to a specialist task force which is going to take me out of the game. But there’s no way I can let it go, either. What’s your next plan?’

  ‘It’s still the old plan,’ Ruth replied. ‘We have to find James Chadwick.’

  ‘If he’s still alive.’

  ‘He is, I’m sure of it. If this thing is real, they need him. I can’t see them killing off the one person they think can help them carry out their attack.’

  ‘But would he do it?’ said Reiks. ‘From what little I’ve read and heard, Chadwick strikes me as a straight-up guy. Helping with a terrorist attack would repel him, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘It depends how they colour it,’ said Vaslik. ‘They either hide what they’re really planning behind some fancy corporate showpiece and get him to train their guy… or they go straight for the throat and threaten his family and friends.’

  ‘You mean the DiPalma woman.’ Brasher looked conflicted. ‘That would certainly be an incentive. But she and the family are beyond reach, aren’t they?’

  Ruth nodded. ‘They won’t get to them – but Chadwick won’t know that. If they’re holding him, which is what it looks like, as far as he’s concerned it’s a very real threat.’

  ‘OK. Let’s assume this plan is real and they will do it – and the president is the target. I can advise the Secret Service that a threat is there, and that they should take all necessary precautions regarding this visit. But I can’t do much more myself because Kraski will be watching me.’

  ‘He’s an asshole,’ Walter Reiks muttered. ‘Always has been.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to do it.’ Ruth felt annoyed and helpless, but she wasn’t about to give up. There was too much riding on it. ‘We’ll have to find them.’

  Brasher looked startled. ‘How? You don’t know where they are.’

  ‘We can’t find Chadwick, that’s true. But we might be able to find where their launch site is.’

  ‘Jesus, how?’

  Vaslik was nodding. ‘If the drones have a range of about twenty miles, that’s got to be the perimeter around Altus. We need to look for the outer edge and work our way in. Wherever he is, it will be close enough to the base to see what happens, but somewhere quiet where nobody will think of looking.’

  Brasher nodded. ‘Trouble is, that’s a lot of open territory. However, I might be able to help you there. I know a guy out in Oklahoma City. He’s a former Agency pilot with his own helicopter and he’s dying of boredom. That will save you a lot of driving time.’

  ‘Fine.’

  He stood up and leaned over the map. ‘But why did Chadwick write ‘Freedom’ on the map? If this guy is as focussed as you say, that must mean something. Is there a place called Freedom down there?’

  ‘There is,’ said Vaslik. ‘It’s up by the county line with Kansas.’

  Brasher stabbed the map with his finger. ‘That must be over a hundred-and-fifty miles from Freedom to Altus. There’s no way these drones would cover that distance, even if the signals were good enough.’

  ‘Maybe that’s where they’ve been practising. It means we have to keep looking.’

  Brasher nodded. ‘Darned thing is, I can see Kraski’s viewpoint. From a purely evidential angle, it sounds crazy. I mean, how do they think they’ll accomplish anything with these drones? All we need to do is get the base to hold a turkey shoot and simply blow them out of the sky as they go over.’

  ‘There are two problems with that, one of which you said yourself,’ Ruth reminded him.

  ‘Yeah? What’s that?’

  ‘One, they’ll be lucky if they even see them coming. A single drone has little more radar signature than a few birds. And they’ll be moving very fast.’

  ‘Great. And the other?’

  ‘We don’t know for sure what the weapon is, but would you really want a canister of toxic gas being blown out of the sky right over the base?’

  32

  The moment the door closed behind Paul, Tommy-Lee rounded on James, forcing out the words in a hiss against the jagged pain in his side and the muzziness in his head. ‘Are you stupid fucking crazy? Can you see now what I’ve been saying? You’ve got to do what he asks, can’t you see that?’

  ‘Really?’ James looked calm, but his eyes were flicking between Tommy-Lee’s wound and the spray of blood on the wall. ‘He’s going to kill us whatever I do.’

  ‘So, you play for time, for Chrissake. Tell him you’ll do as he says, and maybe we can work on a way of getting out of here before anything takes off. The guy’s nuts, you can see that. Do you really want him to make any one of those phone calls?’

  ‘How can we get away? He’s got a gun. You think you can take him on with that knife you keep under the pillow? And you with a hole in you?’

  Tommy-Lee shook his head, which didn’t make him feel any less dizzy. He was desperate for an idea and knew that his options had suddenly got a lot smaller. With Donny somehow out of the picture, probably run off and miles away by now if he had any sense after last night, Paul and the muscle man would now be even more careful around him. ‘I don’t know yet. I’ll think of something, don’t worry. Maybe I can take him as he comes back through the door. If not, all I need is for you to play cute and go along with what he says. It’s our only chance.’

  James didn’t say anything, but stared at the wall and sighed.

  The ten minutes went by far too quickly. A click of the key turning in the door and Paul was standing there again, with Bill towering in the background. Only this time the big man was holding an assault rifle over his shoulder. In his hands it looked like a toy, but Tommy-Lee recognised it as anything but. It was a Bushmaster AR-15 fitted with a long magazine, with a rate of fire that could turn the two of them into pulp and the room into matchwood.

  He became aware that James was staring at him, eyes flicking pointedly at the pillow covering his knife. It was obvious what he was thinking.

  Tommy-Lee stayed where he was. His guts had turned to water and he felt a sense of deep shame wash over him as he realised that even without the appearance of the assault rifle, he couldn’t do it. And it wasn’t just the pain from his side that was holding him back.

  He was plain scared.

  ‘Well?’ Paul’s nose wrinkled in disgust at the smell – or maybe it was at the realisation that fear had rendered Tommy-Lee incapable of moving.

  ‘Yes.’ James’s voice was low, but carried clearly across the room. ‘I’ll do it. But you must promise me that your men won’t harm my family… or Miss DiPalma.’

  ‘You have my word.’ Paul smiled, then gestured at Bill to hand him the assault rifle and unlock the cuffs. ‘You have made a wise decision.’

  Moments later they were walking across the airfield towards the hangar. Tommy-Lee stumbled, as much from the brightness of the sun as the shock of his wound and the lowering of his defences, and wondered how he was going to talk his way out of this. Maybe the guy would see sense and let him go. Tough luck on Chadwick, though; he’d committed himself to helping them go through with whatever the crazy plan had to be.

  ‘Aren’t you worried we might be seen?’ James queried, looking back at the road.

  ‘Even if we are,’ Paul replied, ‘I don’t intend being here very long. A furt
her incentive for you not to make any mistakes.’

  With Paul still carrying the Bushmaster, Bill lumbered ahead and went into the room where Tommy-Lee had seen the boxes and crates. He emerged with one small and one larger crate, carrying them with ease, and they all walked out of the main door and across to the runway. The sun was bright and hot, bouncing off the concrete and sending up heat shimmers in the distance, and a bird sang high above them.

  It should have been a fine day to be alive but Tommy-Lee simply wanted to be sick.

  Two hundred yards down the runway, Paul motioned them to stop and Bilal opened the two crates and lifted out the contents, setting them down with great care.

  ‘You know these machines?’ Paul said to James.

  James looked down at them, then shrugged. ‘I’ve heard of them but I’ve never seen one before. How did you get hold of them?’

  ‘That does not concern you. Can you fly them?’

  ‘I’m not sure I can. This is new technology… I’m not sure I could handle it.’

  Paul’s face went cold. ‘Well, I’m sure you haven’t handled a haulage truck before. But I imagine you could if you had to… unless you want me to put another hole in Mr Roddick, here?’

  James nodded. ‘There’s no need for that. I’ll try.’

  ‘Good. Then do so. But whatever you do, do not break it. Any silly accidents, and I will simply shoot Mr Roddick. Then I will get my colleague to bring another machine. Break that one and you will die. But only after I make those phone calls to my men in England and New York.’

  James looked stricken by defeat. He knelt down alongside the drone and began to check it over. It was soon evident by his manner that he knew what he was dealing with and being extremely careful to check every aspect of the machine, from the small propellers and video screen read-out to the buttons and toggles on the control unit. Eventually he stood up and nodded. ‘It’s fine as far as I can see. But I don’t understand something.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘This drone is fitted with a parachute ejector, but there’s no chute. It’s got a secondary canister inside instead. What’s that for?’