Death Drones

by Christopher Fox

  “There will be eight charges, set here, here …” He pointed to a drawing of the roof structure. “Climb along the trusses which you can access from the catwalk here …” Danny looked studiously at the drawing. “It is important to place the explosives on the bottom part of the truss: the part of it in tension. As you place the charge, insert the detonator which we will activate remotely.

  “OK,” said Danny. “How will I get the explosives into the facility? Security check us thoroughly each day.”

  “The blocks of explosives will be disguised as eight wrapped sandwiches you will carry in a lunch pail. The detonator will be inside a thermos flask. ”

  “But I don't have a lunch pail.”

  Maroun reached down and came up with a lunch pail. “Start a routine for bringing sandwiches in it, so there will be less suspicion when you actually carry the explosives.” He opened the pail and showed how to remove the top of the thermos to put hot drinks in it, and how to remove the body of the thermos to hide the detonators.

  “OK,” he said.

  “Here’s $2,000 to start with,” he handed him an envelope. “I will pay you an additional $3,000 once you smuggle all the charges into the facility. After the charges have been detonated, I will give you the remaining $5,000. OK?”

  “OK,” he said as he opened the envelope and thumbed through the $100 bills. He hadn’t handled this much money in his life—and he would be getting another $8,000.

  “Meet me here next week and I will give you the charges and detonators. Make sure you start the routine with the sandwiches and coffee.”

  Danny never took lunch to work and always had breakfast at MacDonald’s, chomping on a multi-grain energy bar if he got hungry during the day. Where was he going to get sandwiches? He eventually bought them at a local deli and had the thermos filled at MacDonald’s. So as not to raise suspicion, he did this for a week. Occasionally, a lazy security guard would not even open the lunch pail to check its contents. He met with Omar to get the explosives, detonators, and his next instalment of $3,000. Throughout the next week, he made eight successful entries into the stadium and hid the ordinance in his locker.

  A week before the Super Bowl, security tightened up, so he unlocked one of the exit doors, placed a keeper on the door security magnet, and left on time as usual through the maintenance worker’s gate. After dark, he slipped back to the exit door and pried it open. He knew where the security cameras were and found his way to the catwalk unseen after loading up the explosives in a shoulder pouch. The dome was now closed, and he hoisted himself onto one of the supporting trusses, over 100' above the playing surface below and worked his way to the centre of the roof structure. He used a tether, moving from cross brace to cross brace as he shuffled along the truss. The trusses measured eight feet high, and he took at least half an hour to get to the place to set the charges. He straddled the lower truss, pulled one of the Semtex charges from his pouch and placed it into the lower web of the truss, securing it with plastic ties. He nervously inserted a detonator and pushed the small slide switch on as Omar had demonstrated. A small click and a green light signified it was on. He didn't realize that he was sweating profusely. That accomplished, he stood up and placed another charge as high up as he could reach on the vertical beam. He moved along the truss for another 20' and set another two charges. When he had set the four, he shuffled back to the catwalk and moved to the next truss spaced about 20' from the other one, repeating the process. When he got back to the catwalk, he stopped to catch his breath. There, it was done, and he had earned another $5,000. When the charges detonated, it would bring down a section of roof 25' by 20', more than enough space for the drones to enter, although he was not privy to that part of the plan. He felt proud of himself as he returned to the exit door, leaving the facility. Tomorrow, he would remove the keeper from the alarm contact when the alarm systems were switched off.

  * * * *

  Maria and Miguel looked at each other across the table of the booth at one of the local bars. Miguel nursed a draught beer and Maria sipped at a soft drink.

  “How are things now?” she asked.

  Miguel looked at his drink and didn’t answer right away. He was a private person and did not relish talking about his personal issues with people he worked with.

  “Fine,” he said.

  “Look, I won’t say I know how you feel … I don’t. But we have to face up to the bad twists of fate thrown at us occasionally. I realize too that this is not the first time you have lost someone close to you. I was never close to my parents, but it would devastate me if I lost either one of them. I lost a close friend while working with the Federales and it hurt. It hurt a lot. I still get flashes of memories of him lying next to me, bleeding to death from a gunshot wound to the stomach, just under his vest. Cartel gunmen pinned us down until help arrived; they pronounced him dead at the scene.”

  Miguel looked at her. “So it’s OK for me to forget about it because other people have had similar experiences? ”

  “No, of course not. That’s not what I was implying. You’ve been through it before and are aware that time is a great healer, and you must go through the stages of grief. Just don’t shut out your workmates and friends—they can be very supportive.”

  Miguel stared again into his beer. He had only taken a couple of sips and now the head had vanished and likely most of the effervescence.

  “You’re right, I have been through this before and maybe that is why it hurts so much, knowing the pain I suffered before. And yes, I got over it, after some time, and I realize this will get easier as time passes.”

  “Let me be up front with you Miguel. Our concern—my concern—is for the safety of the team. I know you are professional enough not to let your personal feelings jeopardize any mission …”

  “Screw off!” Miguel said, then got up and walked out.

  Shit, that didn’t go well at all.

  Maria returned to the office and asked to see Alberto. She told him of the conversation she had with Miguel.

  “That was not a wise conversation to have under the circumstances,” Alberto said.

  “But I just wanted him to realize that we were concerned …”

  “You were concerned,” Alberto cut her off. “I told you it’s not an issue, and he would never jeopardize a mission. A wise philosopher once said that the only cure for grief is action.”

  Maria hung her head shamefully.

  “I guess I messed up,” she said.

  “Yes, you did.”

  “So, what do I do now?”

  “An apology might go a long way.”

  “OK, I’ll tell him I am sorry.”

  * * * *

  Miguel was furious with Maria when he stomped out of the bar. It was bad enough he had to deal with the grief of Anna and Enrique’s passing, but to have one of his team mates suggest that this will affect his performance? He had already assured Alberto that he can adequately assess his priorities, and that he could compartmentalize his thoughts accordingly. Alberto was fine with this. So why should Maria be so concerned ?

  He returned to the office and noticed Maria talking to Alberto, no doubt about the recent incident. He sat at his desk, turned on his computer, and sifted through some paperwork. Sensing someone standing next to him, he looked up at Maria who had a sad expression on her face, searching for words. After a few moments, she just said, “I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted,” Miguel said as he went back to his work. Maria stood there a while longer, then sidled back to her own desk.

  * * * *

  Alberto decided to move the team’s base of operations to Houston, so on the Friday before the game, they put themselves up in the Holiday Inn Houston, just down the road from the Astrodome and NRG Center.

  The team assembled in a meeting room the day before the Super Bowl. Alberto said, “I’ve talked to Dave at CIA, and he said that the FBI and Homeland Security are not taking a threat to the Super Bowl seriously. They say there are to
o many obstacles a drone attack would have to overcome to attack the NRG Stadium. They have a system in place, like airports, that can detect and redirect any drones that enter the airspace around the stadium. Also, the roof will be closed, so unless they try to launch them from within, they see no risk—and they see no way they will be able to get a dozen drones into the stadium.”

  “That has been the FBI’s stance since the beginning—they do not see it as a real possibility,” said Melinda

  “So,” said Miguel. “What the hell are these guys doing here?”

  “I still say that they plan to attack the stadium,” said Alberto. “It’s the only target that makes any sense in Houston.”

  “Could be they are just meeting to make plans for some other attack,” offered Alex.

  “I don’t buy that,” said Maria. “Why did they buy twelve drones and bring them here? The police searched all the addresses where they were sent and they found no drones. One of the residents, Yasin Hajja’s sister, said that they took delivery of the drone and when she asked him where he got it, he just said it was from a friend. She could see that it was an expensive and sophisticated device and really didn’t believe him. When he placed it in his car and she asked where he was going, he said to a field nearby to test it. She hasn’t seen nor heard from him since. ”

  “OK,” said Alberto. “Let’s say they do plan to attack the stadium, and they have established a means to overcome the security net for drones, and that they have devised a way to get them into the facility. They need somewhere to set this up. Likely a high-ceilinged building like an arena or warehouse. They would also need a sealed chamber to work on the Sarin. For that they would need hazmat suits. Melinda has found a delivery of a Level A hazmat suit to a warehouse here in Houston. So I say we go and check it out.”

  Miguel, Jimmy, Alberto, Melinda, and Maria donned their vests and checked their handguns. Alex had a drone hovering over the warehouse sending HD pictures back to them.

  “No movement so far,” he said. “No cars in the vicinity either.”

  “OK,” said Miguel. “Keep us posted.”

  They loaded themselves into the Chevy Suburban and took off for the warehouse. Jimmy drove around the building first and noted a rear entrance. Dropping Melinda and Maria off there, he proceeded to the front. A smaller door was set into a large roller door. Jimmy worked the lock with his picks and depressed the lever—the door opened.

  “You stay with the car,” Alberto said to Jimmy. “Miguel and I will check the warehouse.”

  He raised his Sig Sauer as he pushed the door open and peered inside. Of course, it squeaked on unoiled hinges and both men grimaced. Not seeing anything, Miguel stepped over the lip of the door and pressed himself against the wall, his two-handed grip on his weapon steady as he scanned the inside of the cavernous warehouse. It appeared to be empty. There were a couple of rooms to one side, and sounds were emanating from one of them. Alberto and Miguel made their way around the exterior wall so that they would not be seen by anyone inside the room. Alberto spoke quietly into his mic. and updated Melinda and Maria, who had made their way into the warehouse. They were closer to the small offices and both Miguel and Alberto watched as they stealthily advanced to the partially open door.

  * * * *

  Maria peered inside and saw two middle-eastern men sitting in front of a TV, with their backs to the door. Neither appeared to be armed. Just as Miguel and Alberto got to the door, Maria holstered her gun and entered. She took two strides and placed a round-house kick to the head of the person nearest her, sending him and the chair clattering to the floor. The other man lunged for a gun sitting on the table nearby. Maria took two more steps and chopped him in the back of his neck, sending him sprawling to the floor. The first man sat shaking his head, then grabbed Maria from behind, while the second man recovered his balance and got to his feet. He charged at the restrained Maria.

  * * * *

  Miguel started forward to help her, only to be constrained by Alberto.

  “She can handle herself,” he said, smiling. “A couple of guys raped her one time. I heard she literally cut off their balls.”

  “No shit,” said Miguel.

  “She likes to pound the piss out of men,” said Alberto.

  “I’ll remember that.”

  Alberto, Melinda and Miguel stood in the doorway to watch the spectacle. Before the second man could get to Maria, she had raised her legs and kicked him in the chest, sending him flying across the room. Then she continued her motion and threw her legs over her attacker’s head, placing her assailant off balance and they both crashed to the floor. The man could do nothing but release the already weakened grip on Maria, who whisked around and clasped his head in a scissor-grip with her legs. The other man now came back to the two on the floor, and Maria rolled her assailant around so that his legs took out the approaching man’s legs, and he tumbled to the floor within reach of Maria. She gave him a straight-hand jab to the throat that left him gasping for air. The man being choked within Maria’s powerful legs started to turn blue as he was being starved of oxygen. When he went limp, she let go and stood up, dusted herself off and said: “They’re all yours.”

  The guys chuckled and Miguel gave a mock applause, which Maria seemed to appreciate. Miguel had not really spoken to her since the bar incident.

  Alberto and Miguel sat the two men up in chairs while Melinda and Maria searched the rest of the warehouse. They found the sealed chamber, and the discarded hazmat suit that convinced them that they were on the right track. Then they found a crashed drone and were convinced the Sarin was going to be deployed using drones. Now they had to find the drones.

  Miguel tried to talk to the man who was slammed in the throat, but he couldn’t utter anything as his larynx was probably shattered. They revived the other man and concentrated on him.

  “Where will the drones be deployed?” Miguel asked.

  There was no reply. Alberto walked to a small fridge in the corner of the office and opened it. He took one of several bottles and offered it to the man.

  “What is your name?” Alberto asked.

  “Sharif. Sharif Maloof,” he said.

  “We are aware of what you plan to do. Where are the drones now?” Miguel said.

  “You will get nothing out of us,” he said defiantly.

  Miguel pulled out his pistol and held it to his head.

  “Go ahead, shoot me. We welcome death. That is why you can never beat us.”

  Miguel pondered a moment and put down his gun.

  “I’ll be right back,” Miguel said to Alberto.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get something to persuade him to talk.”

  Miguel left and got into one of the SUVs and headed to the local grocery store. He found what he sought and returned to the warehouse.

  Alberto thought it strange that he came back with a plastic bag with ‘Fiesta Food Mart’ on it, and he had a quizzical expression on his face. Miguel laid the bag on the table and pulled out a package of bacon.

  “What the …” Alberto said.

  Miguel pulled out his knife and sliced the package open, then pulled several slices of bacon from it. Turning to Sharif he said, “Know what this is?”

  Sharif had a nervous look on his face as Miguel walked over to him, tantalising him with the bacon.

  “How will it be in paradise with your head wrapped in pork?”

  A look of terror came onto Sharif’s face and he tried to back away from the strips of bacon Miguel held in front of his face.

  “Ahrrgg!” he said as the bacon came closer to his face.

  “No! No!” he cried.

  “Where are the drones now? ”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t know.” He was weeping now. “Please. Just kill me and let me meet my maker.”

  “OK. Let’s assume you don’t know where they are, tell us how many there are.”

  “Ten fitted with gas containers, and one to guide them.”


  “What do you mean, ‘one to guide them’?”

  “The drones carrying the Sarin could not be fitted with cameras because it made them too heavy. So one of the drones has a camera feeding video to iPads.”

  “What type of control do they have? Regular RF or cellular?”

  “Cellular.”

  “How do they intend to bypass the Drone Security System?”

  “I do not know.”

  “How do they intend to get them into the stadium when the roof is closed?”

  “I do not know.”

  Miguel looked at him.

  “Honestly, I do not know. I was not included in those conversations. Just the drone operators.”

  Miguel believed him. They now had more information than previously. With cellular control, he wasn’t sure if the Drone Security System would stop them. Also, there were ten drones and not twelve carrying toxic gas.

  Alberto led Miguel out of the room and joined Melinda and Maria.

  “So,” he said. “What do we do now?”

  “Let’s get back to the hotel and regroup,” said Miguel. “We should upload this new information to Alex.”

  They left the warehouse after alerting the local police of the terrorists tied up there.

  “So,” said Jimmy, putting the SUV in ‘Drive’ and accelerating away. “How did it go?”

  “We found two terrorists there and extracted some new information from them,” said Miguel.

  “That was a neat trick with the bacon,” Alberto said.

  “Muslims consider the pig unclean and it is written in the Qur’an that they should not eat it. Many Muslims, especially militant Jihadists, take this like they take many things in the Qur’an, out of context, to mean that they must not even touch the flesh of pigs. It so happened that he was one of those so misguided. ”

  “So how come you’re so informed about the Qur’an?” said Alberto.

  “I’m not, but I did study portions of it as I did the Bible. Interestingly enough, sections in the Bible also condemn the eating of the flesh of swine.”

  “Aren’t you a bubbling fountain of information,” said Maria.