by Ken Fite
“Chris bring you up to speed?” I asked.
She nodded.
“You know about Omar Malik and why we’re here?”
Jami nodded again and kept her eyes on the girl. I motioned for her to step away from the room to talk.
“They were going to sell her for ten thousand dollars,” I said softly as I looked at the bodies on the floor. “When I asked about her father, they said not to worry about him, said he wouldn’t be a problem soon.”
Jami furrowed her brow. Said nothing.
“I need to know who he is and why they have him.”
Jami moved to the doorway and looked in on the little girl. “I understand,” she said. “Stay out here, okay?”
I nodded and Jami moved past me and entered the room.
Willis and Reed stepped farther away. I heard them catching each other up on what they both knew. I remained at the doorway with my back to the wall. I wanted to hear Jami talk to the girl.
There was silence for a long moment. Then she said, “Hi, sweetie. My name is Jami. What’s your name?”
The girl said nothing. I shook my head and checked my watch and looked away.
“Madeline,” I heard the girl say finally.
I glanced back. Stared at the floor. Kept listening.
“Madeline,” said Jami. “Such a pretty name. I’ve always liked it.”
There was more silence. Thirty seconds passed. “You know someone with my name?” the girl finally said.
“I do,” said Jami. Her voice was warm and inviting. I could tell she was smiling and doing her best not to rush her. “I had a friend growing up named Madeline. But we didn’t call her that. We called her Maddie.”
I kept listening. There was another pause, shorter this time. “That’s what my daddy calls me,” the girl said.
“Really? And what’s your daddy’s name? Is it Maddie, too?”
“No,” the girl said, her voice no longer muffled. “His name is Robert.”
“Robert,” said Jami. “I like that name, too.” She paused. “What’s your last name, Maddie?”
I heard a shuffling sound on the ground. Peeked around the corner and saw the girl crawling out from where she’d been hiding. Ducked back before she could see me. Jami was sitting on the floor cross-legged.
“Hayes.”
“Madeline Hayes,” said Jami. “Maddie, is it okay if I introduce you to my friend? Blake, are you there?”
I turned and entered the room. I moved slow and crouched down next to Jami. “Hi, Maddie.”
Maddie offered a little wave. She brought her legs up and wrapped her arms around them again.
Jami gestured for me to sit on the floor with them. The lantern was next to us. It was bright and felt warm. “Maddie, what does your daddy do for a living?” I asked.
She furrowed her brow and looked over at Jami.
“Where does your daddy work?” Jami said.
Maddie shrugged and glanced away briefly. “I don’t know.” Then she turned back to face me. “Is he okay?”
I nodded. “I’m going to find him,” I said and turned to Jami. “I’m going to make a call. I’ll be right back.”
I stood and left them and went out into the other room. Willis had gone back to checking the bodies again. Chris Reed was standing nearby with his cell pressed against his ear. He had a concerned look on his face. The other lantern shone brightly and cast an orange glow over everything. I started to ask Chris what was wrong, when my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I reached for it and stared at the screen. “Jordan,” I said.
“It’s me,” said Parker. “Do you know what’s going on?”
“No,” I said. “But I need to talk to Simon and Morgan. I need them to run down a name for me, ASAP.”
“It needs to wait.”
“It can’t,” I said and stepped away from the doorway so Maddie wouldn’t hear me talking.
“It needs to wait,” Parker said again.
“Why?”
“Because Omar Malik just took control of the entire fleet of Reaper drones operated by the United States.”
I said nothing.
“Morgan and Simon are trying to regain control, but now there’s a bigger problem. Catastrophic.” Chris was staring at me, listening to his own update. “There was an airstrike in Nevada, five minutes ago.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
“THERE WAS AN airstrike, five minutes ago,” said Greenberg as he stepped into our tent.
I sat up straight in my cot and opened my eyes. Glanced to my right and saw Miller inhaling food from a meal, ready-to-eat. Eat when you can; sleep when you can . I checked my watch. It was ten o’clock sharp.
“Sir?” I said.
“Five minutes ago,” he repeated. “The CIA used one of their Predator drones just west of here.”
I thought for a moment. “Okay,” I said and checked my watch again. “We’re heading out in an hour.”
Greenberg shook his head. “Change of plans,” he said and looked over at Miller. “You need to leave now.”
We went over the plan again, the one we’d been given in Greenberg’s office earlier. Our CO didn’t want us to change a thing except to move the operation up by an hour in case the CIA moved faster than we wanted them to. Greenberg said he’d be ready to transport Malik when we got back, and he’d be in contact on the radio. He wanted us to radio in a ten-eighteen, assignment complete, confirmation when we were done.
Greenberg left. Miller went back to his MRE. I stared past him at the picture of his wife and son.
“You ready?” he asked as he finished eating and stood.
I nodded and we found our tactical vests and readied our weapons and headed outside to find a Humvee.
Miller drove. I sat in the passenger seat and navigated us out of the base and into the darkness. Miller grew quiet. Just drove at a steady pace under the cover of night, headed east into the city and to the location Greenberg had given us. I looked out the window as we moved. Glanced up and saw the moon, big and bright. Figured we could kill our lights if we needed to and still be able to see.
“So what are your plans after all this?” I said as I turned and stared out the windshield, thinking.
Miller turned to face me. “After we get Malik?”
I shook my head. “After our deployment,” I said. “Back to the real world. I’m sure your family misses you.”
He shook his head and turned back to the road and drove on. “I’m not going back,” he said. “You?”
I thought about it. “Eventually,” I said. “I always wanted to be a SEAL. But maybe there’s more out there.”
“You’re ambitious,” he said. “But don’t forget why we do this. It’s a sacrifice, but it means something.”
We got quiet as we drove on and left the lights of Camp Rhino far behind. The terrain grew darker and the moon grew brighter. “What about your family?” I said, thinking about the picture hanging over his cot. “All I have is my dad, but you’re in a different situation. You don’t want to miss seeing your kid grow up.”
Jon Miller made no reply. Just kept driving and ignored the question for five long minutes. Then we heard a grinding noise coming from the front of the Humvee. Miller and I glanced at each other, and he brought the vehicle to a stop and cut the engine. We both climbed out. I reached for my flashlight and held it out. Miller popped the hood and studied everything, then cursed quietly under his breath and got to work, fast.
Miller was a car guy. He’d shown me a thing or two about cars when we trained together, between deployments. Miller kept working. He thought a belt was out of alignment. After fiddling with it for a bit, he climbed back in and tried to start it up. The engine wouldn’t turn over at all. I came back around and climbed in next to him and shined my flashlight to help him see what he was doing inside the Humvee.
“They need to replace these things,” he said. “They’re falling apart. Gonna have to try to hot-wire it.”
“You can do that with these?”
I asked.
Miller nodded in the dark.
“You’re going to get electrocuted.”
He laughed and said, “Just don’t connect the wrong wire.”
I kept holding the light and watched as he used a knife to remove a plastic piece on the steering column, then yanked on a panel, exposing a small bundle of electrical wires that led to the battery, starter, and ignition. I watched as Miller stripped an inch of insulation from the wires and twisted them together. Then the Humvee came to life. I climbed back out and stepped around the front and lowered the hood back down. A minute later, we were back on the road and I was checking my watch and studying the map.
“They’re not there,” he said as he drove and the outskirts of the city far in the distance came into view.
“Who?”
“My family,” he said and turned to look at me. “They were killed a year ago. I don’t really talk about it.”
Neither of us spoke. The rumble of the Humvee seemed to grow louder in the silence. And the picture I’d seen hanging over his cot suddenly had a whole new meaning to me. “How?” I finally managed to ask.
He shrugged. “Car accident. Cindy was taking our son home from soccer practice. They were at a red light. It was a hit-and-run.” Miller paused.
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. His words hung in the air.
“I was home from my second deployment. It was a Wednesday night. I was supposed to pick him up.”
I said nothing. Just sat in the dark, thinking.
“But I stayed home making dinner,” he said. “It was her birthday. I just wanted to do something special.” Miller grew quiet and drove on.
I stared out the side window, thinking about what he was telling me.
“Life requires sacrifice, man. And that means deciding what you’re willing to give up. I gave up time with them so I could serve my country. It was my honor. She was proud of me. They both were.”
We drove another mile before I spoke again. “I’m sorry,” I said and turned to him. “Do you ever regret it?”
“What?”
“Not being with them more,” I said. “Being away.”
He shrugged again. “I did at first,” he said. “I thought about all the firsts I’d missed. My son’s first words. First time he walked. First day of school.” He grew quiet for a moment. “Thought for a long time I’d done the wrong thing; I’d chosen duty to my country over duty to my family. Easy to think about it that way.” Miller paused. “But family is why we fight, man. It’s the reason. Do you understand that?”
I said nothing.
“Don’t ever confuse the two.” He paused one more time. “I don’t regret it anymore. It was my sacrifice. What I’m doing now is my legacy. I can’t bring them back, but I can protect and defend people like them.”
The radio crackled to life. We stared at each other briefly; then I reached for it. “Go ahead,” I said.
“Need to hurry,” said Greenberg from camp. “The CIA’s ahead of schedule. You’ve got twenty minutes.”
THIRTY-NINE
I FINISHED LISTENING to Parker’s update and clicked off. I immediately called Morgan Lennox.
“I’m a little busy, mate,” he said, answering on the first ring.
“I know,” I said. “Parker just told me about the airstrike. Morgan, I need you to ID someone for me.”
“Can it wait?”
“No,” I said as I stepped away from the room with Jami and Maddie.
“Name?”
“Robert Hayes,” I said. “Lives in metro DC somewhere. Has a daughter named Madeline Hayes.”
“Give me a few minutes, Blake,” he said and told me he’d call me back.
I stepped back toward Chris Reed and Willis. Chris had ended his phone conversation. He was just standing there, staring down at his phone. He noticed me as I stepped closer to him. Willis stood from the bodies he’d been looking over and met me near the lantern. I motioned for both of them to follow me farther away from the other room so the girl wouldn’t hear what we’d be talking about.
“Are you trying to find her father?” asked Chris.
I nodded. “I have Morgan on it,” I said, then I turned to look at Curt Willis. “I spoke with Parker. There are a few things I need to bring you up to speed on. Parker said the government’s fleet of Reaper drones was taken over. He had Morgan and Simon check, and their drones were taken over as well.”
Chris Reed nodded. “The Bureau and the CIA have lost control of theirs, too.”
“Morgan and Simon are trying to take back control,” I said. “Mulvaney’s got the Bureau’s Cyber Division doing the same thing. But now we have a bigger problem.” I paused for a second. “There was an airstrike.”
“Where?” asked Willis.
“Nevada,” I said. “They used one of the CIA’s Reaper drones armed with Hellfire missiles.”
Willis narrowed his eyes. “Was that the demonstration?”
“I think so.”
“What’s in Nevada?” asked Willis.
“Creech Air Force Base,” said Reed.
Willis looked away, thinking. “There’s a special unit of pilots at Creech,” I said. “They operate the CIA’s drone fleet on their behalf. They’ve been doing it for years. Satellites confirmed there was an explosion. And now the CIA can’t make contact with anyone at the base. It’s dark, but it’s clear a building was hit.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” asked Willis.
“Yes,” I said. “They’re not responsive at all.”
“There has to be some kind of explanation,” said Willis. “Maybe there’s just a problem with their comms.”
I shook my head. “Unlikely,” I said. “Morgan and Simon confirmed the entire CIA drone fleet is no longer under control from Creech. The drones are operating in some kind of default mode.”
Willis said nothing.
“We have to assume they’ve been taken out. The CIA’s drone fleet is the largest and they’re weaponized.”
I left Chris and Willis to discuss this and come up with a plan for next steps. I walked over to the door and looked into the room with Jami and Maddie inside. Jami noticed me. I motioned for her to come and speak with me. I brought her up to speed. Then I asked what she wanted to do with the girl.
Jami looked away, thinking about it. “Take her to the Hoover Building.”
I nodded. Jami asked Chris if she and Maddie could get a ride to Hoover. He said he needed to go back, anyway. He told me that Mulvaney wanted to speak with him in person about what the Bureau was finding on the missing schematics issue they were running down. Jami went back to see Maddie. She crouched and spoke softly to her. Explained that they were going to go somewhere safe now.
Jami stretched out her hand and the girl took it. They both stood. Jami picked her up and told her to close her eyes as Chris grabbed a lantern and led them past all of the men sprawled on the floor and over to the stairs. Willis and I stayed back for a minute and watched them leave.
“Now what?” I asked as I grabbed the other lantern.
Willis thought about it. He turned his gaze and looked at the bodies scattered all around the main room. Before he could answer, my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. “This is Jordan,” I said, answering it.
“It’s me,” said Morgan as I put the call on speakerphone so Willis could hear.
“You figure out who Robert Hayes is?” I said.
“Guy’s a former Air Force counterintelligence specialist and spent some time as an NSA contractor,” said Morgan. “He left ten years ago to start his own consulting agency, it looks like.”
I thought for a moment. “Okay,” I said. “Morgan, send me his home address. We’re going to check it out.” Willis followed me as I carried the lantern and headed toward the stairs. “And, Morgan,” I continued, “check into what he did at the NSA. I want to know what he worked on then and what he’s doing now.”
“Were you able to retake control of DDC�
�s drones?” asked Willis as we moved.
“Yes, mate,” he said. “And I walked Simon through how to do it for DHS’s as well.”
“That’s good news,” said Willis as I pushed the door to the stairs open and we jogged down them.
“Parker fill you in on the CIA’s fleet?” asked Morgan. “He tell you we confirmed an airstrike at Creech?”
“Yes,” I said. “How many domestic drones does the CIA have being piloted from there?”
“Eighty,” said Morgan as Willis and I made it down to the first floor and stepped outside into the cold. “There’s no way to take control of them. The request must come from the Air Force since they operate the Reapers on behalf of the CIA. We can’t do it.” He paused. “Omar Malik has total control of the entire fleet.”
FORTY
PRESIDENT JAMES KELLER sat behind his desk with his office door closed. His mind was racing as Air Force One continued to circle the skies high above America. He turned in his chair. Rolled it to one of the portholes behind him and looked outside. Saw nothing but darkness. He stayed by it anyway, his mind set on a secret pact that he and a few other senators had agreed would never be spoken of again. That was fifteen long years ago. He’d just been elected to the senate. His wife was still alive. The whole thing had happened during a weekend visit when Margaret had flown in from their hometown of Chicago. Keller remembered the phone call he’d received at dinner with Margaret and how he had to leave for a special committee meeting. A meeting where an important decision needed to be made. In the end, the vote had been six for and six against. And he had to make the final call. After some deliberation, he’d made it.
A knock at the door brought him back to the present. “Come in,” he said and turned back to face the door.
Ethan Meyer entered and closed the door behind him after stepping inside.
“Are they working on my request?” asked the president.
Meyer nodded. “It’s taking a little longer than they thought it would. They have to make sure it’s secure.”
Keller turned back to the porthole and gazed out into the darkness again and grew quiet. Meyer was still standing. “Take a seat,” said Keller, and Meyer went to the tan leather couch across from the president’s desk. Keller remained distant, preoccupied by his past and the decision he’d been forced to make.