Drone Command

The Suburban sped past the terminal gate as Myers speed-dialed President Lane on a secured phone in the back of the vehicle.

“Margaret, it’s good to hear your voice.”

“Thank you.”

“I take it everything went as planned?”

“Not exactly.”

“Did you see the missile? Is it legit?”

“Yes, it’s real, and it looks legit. Ji handed me all the test data to back up his claim.” She handed the thumb drive to the security guard, Stella Kang, as she spoke. Stella loaded the drive into a USB port on a secured wireless transmitter and began uploading the data.

“Our analysts will tear into it as soon as they get it,” Lane said.

“Won’t be long. Let me know what they find.”

“Of course. So you were able to get eyeballs on the Wu-14?”

“Even laid my hands on it.”

“Outstanding. So what’s the problem?”

“They kept Troy for interrogation. Called him a spy.”

“You think the mission’s blown?”

“No, or I wouldn’t be here now talking to you.”

“They must have suspected something.”

“Maybe.” Myers was thinking about the woman who had taken such a keen interest in Troy back in the hangar. “And maybe not.”

“So long as you’re safe.”

“It’s Troy you need to worry about. We’ve got to get him out of there fast.”

“You know we can’t do anything to jeopardize the operation.”

“You can’t leave him there.”

“Pearce would understand.”

“I don’t. He’s my friend, and yours. And he’s an American, damn it. That used to mean something.”

“There’s a bigger picture here.”

“Don’t tell me about a bigger picture. I’ve sat where you’re sitting, remember? But you don’t leave a man behind, ever, no matter what it costs.”

Lane hesitated. She was right, of course. “I’ll have Gaby pick up the phone and see if she can get to the bottom of this.”

“No offense, but they don’t call the State Department Foggy Bottom for nothing. I need you to get on the phone yourself.”

Lane wanted to chew her ass out. How dare she speak to him that way? But he owed her everything, and his dad raised him to believe that the man with the greatest power had the greatest opportunity and responsibility to serve those under him. All of the bowing and scraping and yes, sirs he’d been subjected to over the last several months in office had inflated his ego more than he wanted to admit.

“You’re right. I’ll call President Sun directly. I can’t make any promises and I won’t jeopardize the mission. But I’ll do whatever I can.”

“So will I.”

“Margaret—”

Myers hung up the phone.

There were very few days she regretted resigning from the Oval Office.

Today was one of them.

THIRTY-SIX

FOUR SEASONS HOTEL AT MARUNOUCHI

TOKYO, JAPAN

14 MAY 2014

Myers shot through the door of her suite with Stella Kang hot on her tail. The young Korean-American woman was one of Pearce’s top small-drone operators, earning her skills during a couple of tours flying Ravens in the U.S. Army. Since the death of Johnny Paloma, Pearce relied more and more on Stella for his personal security detail.

“Ready to get to work?” Myers asked. She had called ahead and told Ian about Pearce’s status.

“Ready,” Ian said in his thick Scottish brogue. Pearce’s IT division chief was normally located at corporate headquarters in Dearborn, Michigan, but Pearce wanted Ian close by for this op. The former IT executive turned his considerable computer skills to antiterror operations soon after losing both of his legs in the 7/7 bombing attack in London. He was one of Pearce’s most formidable weapons.

“I’ll be just another minute. I hope you’ve ordered room service for yourself while you were waiting.”

“Indeed, I did. Thank you.”

“You, too, Stella. Get something for yourself. There’s Fiji Water and Sapporo in the fridge.”

“I’m fine for now, ma’am, but thanks.” Stella was worried about her boss. Troy was the best employer she ever had, but also a good friend. She knew what the Chinese were capable of. Her family barely survived the brutal Communist Chinese invasion of the Korean peninsula in 1950. They had passed along the horror stories of rape and slaughter to their children and grandchildren.

Myers marched into her bathroom and opened a drawer. She removed a small metal case the size of a pack of cigarettes and opened it. Inside was a small rubber insertion/removal device used for glass contact lenses. She picked up the little rubber suction cup and leaned close to the wall-length bathroom mirror, carefully touching each lens with the suction head and removing them from her eyes. The hard lenses were embedded with wireless cameras and sensors, making them, in effect, contact-lens cameras. She placed both glass lenses back into the metal case and closed it. She rubbed her itching and irritated eyes for a few moments. Her eyes were used to the soft, permeable contacts she normally wore. Myers grabbed a bottle of saline solution and flushed her eyes out, then pulled out a pair of old reliable eyeglasses to give her aching eyeballs a rest.