by Richard Bard
Five minutes later the truck was trundling down the uneven dirt road. Ahmed sat on the floorboard with his back pressed against the rear doors. His guard, whom Farhad had called Latif, was seated on a bench across from Ahmed with an assault rifle pointed at Ahmed’s face. The safety was off.
Except for its white color and no markings, the delivery truck reminded him of a very long delivery van. But its plain exterior contradicted what was going on inside. The vehicle had seemed about a foot taller than the interior ceiling height, and he wondered what was hidden in the crawl space above. The interior had been converted into a high-tech command and control center, with a bank of servers near the rear doors, a four-station computer console that stretched to the bulkhead behind the driver’s station, and flat-panel displays covering the walls. Each station was manned. Three were powering up, but the one in the center was already active and a live feed of the lodge filled the screen. Jamal was at the controls, and as he manipulated a joystick the image zoomed tighter. Ahmed realized the video was being streamed from one of the three drones Marshall had detected. The lights were on in the lodge, but there was no sign of activity. When Jamal flicked a switch to change to infrared, Ahmed saw three faintly glowing silhouettes moving around in the kitchen area. His breath caught. Hadi and Farhad stood behind the techs, and both men had eyes on him. The truck bounced, and Farhad grabbed an overhead bar to brace himself. Hadi said, “The boy is lying.”
“Probably, but if so, what is his purpose? Why would he come carrying nothing but a pistol?”
Ahmed shifted uneasily. Hadi noticed. He stepped closer and towered over him, the jostling truck having little impact on his burly frame. He gestured toward the man guarding Ahmed. “You are sure he’s clean?”
“I patted him down thoroughly. You want me to do a cavity search?”
Hadi’s gaze bore into Ahmed as he considered the question.
Ahmed glared back at the big man, mumbling against the tape covering his mouth. Hadi tore the tape loose.
“A cavity search?” Ahmed hissed. “Give me a break. You think I’ve got something hidden up my butt? You dudes are perverts. Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said? I want to join you, not fight you.” He edged his feet back.
Hadi’s eyes narrowed. “Remove his shoes.”
Ahmed yanked his legs closer to his body. “Don’t be stupid. What the hell could I have in my—”
Hadi crouched down, ripped off Ahmed’s shoes, and checked inside. He removed the thumb drive Ahmed had taped there, and the terrorist’s smile was wicked. “You will die the slow death of a traitor.”
Ahmed spat in his face. “You assholes are the trait—”
The backhand across Ahmed’s cheek knocked his head into the wall. His vision went cloudy, and his gasp was cut short when the duct tape was pressed against his open mouth. His head had impacted directly over his implant scar, and pain exploded in his skull. He blinked repeatedly, trying to refocus, sucking air through nostrils that had partially closed from the trauma. He thrust his tongue at the tape across his open lips, trying to open an air gap. But it was too tight, and the deeper he tried to draw air through his nose, the more his sinus passages seemed to close. Panic set in. He struggled to free his hands but the tape held fast. He slid his cheek against the wall in hopes of peeling the tape back, but that didn’t work, either. He was running out of oxygen. His vision began to tunnel. His mind flashed on his family and all they’d been through, and how in the end he’d failed them so miserably.
Ahmed’s sinuses snapped shut.
Chapter 24
Foothills of Mt. Wilson
FRANCESCA STUFFED THE LAST of Sarafina’s belongings into her grab bag, her anger growing with each passing minute. She’d thought both kids were napping. Instead, they’d disappeared. She understood the need to get some air but now was not the time. What were they thinking? She cinched the pack closed and dropped it with hers and Ahmed’s outside the back window. Then she stormed back into the main room.
Marshall was stowing computer gear into the second of two satchels. He hesitated when he grabbed a burner phone from the table, scanning the tabletop as if he’d noticed something missing. He shook his head and dumped the phone in the bag. He’d confirmed earlier that the previous eavesdropping signal coming from within the house was gone, but the signals from the three suspected drones in the trees were still active. They’d pulled the curtains shut so they weren’t concerned about their activities being visually recorded, but there was still a risk of remote eavesdropping via some sort of laser on the windows. The technology was of no interest to Francesca, but they still had to guard their words.
Marshall powered down the tablet they’d been using to secretly communicate, and looked up. He seemed as perturbed as she was. “If those kids of yours don’t get back soon, they’re going to miss supper.”
The front door swung open. Lacey stepped in wearing a track suit and running shoes, the same as Francesca. Marshall wore loose khakis over his favorite PRO-Keds. They’d all dressed in preparation for the run of their lives. Lacey closed the door. “They took off.”
Francesca blinked. “Took off?”
Marshall held the tablet up. Lacey shook her head to signal she didn’t need it. “They went for a joy ride.”
“What are you talking about?” Marshall said, stowing the tablet. “Tony took the truck.”
“The barn door was open, and tire tracks were leading out of it. There was a bundled tarp inside. They apparently found a vehicle and took it out for a spin.”
“And didn’t tell us about it,” Marshall said.
Francesca was beside herself. “But, but…” She reminded herself someone could be listening. “They’re going to miss dinner!”
There was movement in the hallway, and a figure wearing what looked like a silver hazmat suit stepped into the room. Francesca had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. She recognized the face behind the clear mask just in time to quiet herself, but not quickly enough to keep her heart from trying to leap from her chest. It was Skylar, Lacey’s stunt double, who dropped a duffel on the floor and held her hands apart as if to ask what the hell was going on.
Lacey held an index finger to her lips. Skylar nodded. She tapped her wristwatch with a gloved finger to signal they had to move fast.
Francesca tensed. How could she leave without the kids?
Marshall moved closer and took her gently by the shoulders. “Damn teenagers. What’re ya gonna do? So they’re out and about. With any luck, they’ll bring back burgers and fries from the nearest McDonald’s.” He held her gaze. “At least they had sense enough to grab a couple of the burner phones. I just noticed them missing. So if they’re out too late, we can call them easily enough.” He leaned closer and whispered, “Or track them with my equipment.” He pointed to the satchels of stowed gear. “Sound good? Come on. Let’s eat.”
He was trying to tell her they’d have to wait until after they left and he could set up his equipment at the new safe house. But that could be an hour or two from now and she didn’t want to wait. She stepped back and shook her head.
Skylar scooted closer. She pointed toward the rear of the house, then used her fingers to pantomime running up the hill, followed by the motion of driving a car. Francesca shook her head again, thinking Skylar was urging her to leave. But Skylar made a motion like she was plugging a cord into a wall outlet, followed by a repeat of the driving gesture. And then Francesca got it. Skylar was trying to tell her Marshall could hook up his equipment in the vehicle waiting up the hill.
Skylar splayed her fingers and mouthed five minutes. Marshall and Lacey were staring at Francesca with anxious expressions, and she realized the three of them saw her as the weak link in their escape plan. No, she would rise to meet whatever challenge faced them.
She nodded and stomped toward the kitchen. “I’ll get dinner started,” she said, clanging a pot on the stove for effect.
Lacey said, “I’ll s
et the table.”
In reality Lacey hurried to finish stowing items in her backpack, and it was Skylar who moved to fuss around the dining table. She pulled a shoebox-sized piece of equipment from her duffel and set it on top. Beside that she placed an electronic device topped by a six-inch-tall copper cylinder. After pulling out two extension cords, she plugged the devices into a wall outlet. Then she placed a rolled-up bundle on each of three dining chairs. The material reminded Francesca of blow-up beach toys. Skylar pulled air hoses out of her bag and connected the three bundles to outlets on the back of the first machine. Satisfied that everything was in place, Skylar powered up both machines, checked the gauges, and nodded to herself. She reached into her duffel, pulled out three folded moon suits, and set them on the table.
***
Los Padres National Forest
The duct tape was ripped from Ahmed’s face, and he sucked in lungfuls of air. He opened his eyes to see Farhad staring at him.
“You’re not going to die yet, you traitorous son of a bitch. You wanted to join us, to help in our cause? Well, guess what? You’re going to do exactly that. Not only by serving as a lever against the murderer you’ve come to call your father, but to serve as an example of what happens to those who dare to betray Allah. We will slice and dice you on American TV.”
Ahmed opened his mouth to speak, but closed it when Farhad held up the tape.
“Another word and I’ll cut your tongue out. Nod if you understand.”
Ahmed nodded. The truck rolled into a turn, the ride smoothed, and he realized they’d left the property. His thoughts went to Sarafina, who must be freaking out about now.
“Pelican-1 on station overhead,” one of the techs reported. “Should I recover the two recon drones and retask them to infrared to locate the girl? She must be nearby.”
Ahmed stiffened.
Farhad shook his head. “Of course she is, Ghazi. But time is our enemy. We’re sitting ducks until we get lost on the freeways. That’s our priority.”
Hadi nodded.
“And if she attempts to follow?” Ghazi asked.
“We know the car, so if she shows up we’ll deal with her then. Are the Pelican’s remaining two drones armed?”
“C-4.”
“Perfect.”
Ahmed whispered a silent prayer that his sister didn’t do anything stupid.
Jamal said, “Pelican-1 reports all clear. We’ll be on the 5 freeway in twenty minutes, long before Bronson and his team arrive at the ranch. I’ll recover the Pelican and her drones before we get there.”
“Good,” Farhad said. “All the charges are set on the ranch?”
“Mahmood confirmed it before climbing in his van. Our merry bomb maker had a sly grin on his face when he said it.”
Farhad nodded. “Amir, did anyone forget anything?”
The tech at the far console looked up. “Each team has reported in. All essentials removed.”
Jamal said, “And I wiped the servers.”
“Everything has been transferred?”
“Downloading from the cloud as we speak.”
“Then we’re good.” He turned to Hadi. “Thanks to your training.”
Hadi sniffed.
“We’ll blow the ranch as soon as we’re on the freeway,” Farhad added. “When Bronson arrives, there will be nothing left but ashes.” He turned to Ahmed. “But in the meantime, it’s time to end his wife and meddling friends.”
Ahmed’s eyes went wide.
***
Foothills of Mt. Wilson
“How’s dinner coming along?” Marshall asked as he walked toward the hallway with his satchels. Skylar signaled him to take the bags to the back and return.
“Pretty well. We’ll eat soon.” Francesca said.
Skylar pulled a smartphone from her pocket, woke it up, and held out the screen. Marshall rejoined them and they read the prepared message:
Must assume their cameras have infrared. The blow-up dolls will generate a human heat signature when I inflate them, and the suits will block our actual signatures. The copper cylinder is a thermal blocker. It will glitch any cameras while we make the changeover, but if we leave the jammer on for more than 5 seconds or so, they’ll know something’s up, so you have to move fast. Stand behind each of the chairs, and get your suits on ASAP when I give the signal. They’re bulky, but we can remove them once we get to the tree line. Got it?
Everyone nodded. Skylar handed out the suits, and placed one finger on the machine connected to the dolls and the other on the jammer. When everyone was in position, she switched them on simultaneously. The jamming drum hummed, and there was a hiss of compressed air as the dolls jumped and jiggled to inflate almost instantly. Francesca scrambled into her jumpsuit, grateful that the bulky legs allowed her to easily slip her shoes inside. She shoved her arms into the gloved sleeves, pulled the hood over her head, and zipped it up. She was the first one ready, and Skylar gave her a thumbs-up. The dolls were fully inflated in seated positions around the table, but Marshall was having trouble fitting into his suit. It was way too small, and Francesca realized the suit was probably intended for Sarafina. Skylar rushed to the duffel, yanked out another suit, and tossed it to him. By then Lacey was dressed and helping Marshall peel the smaller suit off his legs. His shoe got caught inside, and Lacey yanked so hard that when it ripped free, she lost her footing and lurched backward, tripping on the jammer’s extension cord and crashing into one of the dolls. Its hose ripped loose.
For half a beat everyone froze. Then the doll began to deflate. Marshall jumped on it and shouted, “Run!”
Lacey pushed to her feet. “But—”
“Go, damn it!”
Skylar took Lacey’s hand and raced down the hallway. Francesca was right on their heels.
***
Los Padres National Forest
Ahmed felt the heat of Farhad’s breath on his face. Farhad was crouched in front of him. He pointed over his shoulder at the video stream of the three infrared images standing in the kitchen of the lodge. Farhad said, “That’s your mother and her friends. I am going to kill them while you watch.”
“Now?” Jamal asked with a finger hovering over his keyboard.
Ahmed was cast back to his youth, to the days when the man crouched in front of him now had towered over him as a child, smacking his head repeatedly while he called him names, all while his friends watched and laughed. And like then, there was nothing Ahmed could do about it. This time, though, his family would suffer the consequences of his helplessness. “Please don’t. I beg of you.”
“Your begging will not help. However, perhaps you can at least stall the inevitable by answering a few questions. Let’s start with—”
“Something’s wrong,” Jamal said.
Farhad spun around. The video had gone bright white. “Switch cameras.”
“I did. But it’s the same. Something is jamming the signal.”
“Jamming? You’re certain?”
“Wait a minute. It’s coming back.”
The infrared scene resolved itself. The three glowing figures were seated around the dining table, but there was something off. Two of the figures weren’t moving, and the third was too large to be Mom, Lacey, or Uncle Marshall. Then one appeared to shrink. Farhad stepped closer to the screen. When the glowing figure shrank to normal size, it suddenly jumped from the table.
“Activate the magazine!” Farhad shouted as the figure sprinted toward the back of the lodge.
Jamal pounded his finger on the keyboard.
“Doors open. Drones powering up,” Ghazi said. “All drones in the green. Track engaged. Switching to first-person view.” One of the two screens over his console split into eight night-vision views. The first drone was already shooting forward at blazing speed. Foliage whipped past its lens as it followed a dizzying course through the trees. The other seven drones followed just inches behind it, duplicating every maneuver. Five seconds later the drones broke into the clearing surroundin
g the lodge, and peeled away from one another to target windows on all sides of the structure. The running figure inside the house had disappeared from view, but there were still two seated at the table. When the drones simultaneously struck their targets, the feeds blacked out. In the same beat, the view on the big screen over Jamal’s console flared out. He switched from infrared to standard view, and the screen refocused to reveal the entire structure engulfed in a fireball.
Chapter 25
AHMED STARED IN HORROR at the video display. Flames leapt from every corner of the lodge.
“No one could have survived that,” Jamal said.
Farhad scratched his chin. “Do any of the drones have enough remaining juice to lift off?”
Amir turned from his console. “I’m afraid not.”
Farhad clenched his fists.
It was the first bit of good news Ahmed had heard, and he allowed himself to hope that his mom and the others had escaped in time.
Five minutes later, Ahmed was being ignored for the most part. Even his guard Latif had lowered his weapon and was focused on the screens. The lapse gave Ahmed a few moments to clear his head and prepare for his next move. It was going be a desperate ploy, but what choice did he have? He was watching the video on the main screen over Jamal’s console. It was a live overhead view of their caravan driving through the hills leading to the freeway, four sets of headlights illuminating the thick forest on both sides of the road. The video was streaming from the bird they referred to as Pelican-1. They’d used it to recover the two recon drones he’d seen earlier, which were now docked on the undercarriage of the larger drone, along with two additional “Striker” drones that were apparently armed with explosives. He’d been amazed at the level of proficiency the team had with the drones, and at how advanced the technology was. He’d never heard of an airborne drone operating as a launch vehicle for smaller drones. The team had called the camouflaged boxes in the vans “drone magazines,” and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what that meant. That such technology was in the hands of people who wanted to terrorize America scared the crap out of Ahmed, but it also strengthened his resolve. As slim as his chances were, he was in a unique position to help take down these assholes.
