by Ted Halstead
After the video finished playing, Martins shook his head. “Two questions. First, does it really work as well as in that video? Next, how many have we got?”
“Well, I talked to one of the guys at DARPA who tested it, and he swears it never failed in their tests. As you can see, I can’t test it here,” Lombardy said with a smile.
Martins grunted. No, certainly not. But the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, DARPA, had a good reputation out in the field. If they said this thing would work, he could go with that.
“As for how many we have, that’s our only real problem. We have exactly enough for the job, with no backups. I wish we had time to get more, but we don’t,” Lombardy said.
“Very well. So, another problem I see is getting that drone inside the school without being seen. It’s way too big not to be noticed. Have you got another drone that will do that for us?” Martins asked.
Lombardy grinned. “Sir, it’s the same drone you saw earlier feeding power to the micro drones. But now it has a new trick.”
The video played for several minutes, and again Martins was…skeptical.
“OK, have you tested this yourself?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Lombardy said, nodding. “It works just as fast as you saw here. The drone only has enough power on board to do it once, but that’s all we’ll need.”
“What about the guy in the guard booth? How are we going to deal with him?” Martins asked.
“Well, the good news is that the panel with the displays from the security cameras and the gate controls carries plenty of power,” Lombardy said.
Martins interrupted him. “Say, can’t we hack into that security system? It would make this all a lot simpler.”
Lombardy nodded. “Yes, sir, it would. However, the security system was designed by pros and is strictly closed circuit, so we can’t access it from outside. Electrical power, though, we can get to.”
“I see where you’re going. We overload the control panel, and then cut the power and turn on the cell phone and radio dampeners. Are you sure the panel has enough power to knock out whoever’s in the guard booth?” Martins asked.
“I think so,” Lombardy said. “It would be ideal if he were in contact with the panel, but even if he isn’t, that’s a really small space. With the amount of power we’re sending through, the panel should explode and send glass and metal fragments flying at high velocity. There’s no way to be certain the explosion will render the man inside unconscious, but I think it’s our best shot at keeping him away from that manual bomb switch.”
“So, if all these tricks and gadgets work, next we go over the wall and into the courtyard. Then, mission complete. Do you really think it will be that easy?” Martins asked.
Lombardy shrugged. “Well, sir, I think our biggest advantage is nobody knows we have this tech. That means the Taliban shouldn’t be ready for it. But you’re right. If any of it fails, it won’t be pretty.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Kandahar, Afghanistan
Khaled Tanha turned his head at the sound of pounding on one of the classroom doors. Fereshtah had made two announcements at his order, telling the students and staff to wait quietly, since the security emergency had not yet ended.
But, as Fereshtah had told him, now that several hours had passed, it appeared that some of those in the classrooms were no longer willing to sit quietly. Whether it was hunger, thirst, or a desire to relieve themselves didn’t matter to Khaled.
All that mattered was that he didn’t have the men it would take to watch these girls once they were out of the locked classrooms. Khaled, though, already had a plan for this moment.
He called for Fereshtah to join him in the hallway. She left her office, hesitantly.
Good, Khaled thought with a small smile. She remembers what I told her would happen if she exited without permission.
Khaled gestured towards the classroom door, where the pounding had still not stopped. There was a small window set in the upper third of the door, and to Khaled’s disgust, the unveiled face of a teenage girl was visible through it.
“You know who the teacher is in this classroom, correct?” Khaled asked.
Fereshtah nodded.
“Good. Use the public address system to tell the teacher that the girl who is at the door should stand back. We are about to open the door and let her, and only her, leave the classroom. Everyone else in the room is to remain seated. Also, tell everyone that one and only one girl should come next to their classroom door as well. They should stand, so they are visible through the window. Once you make the announcement, come back here, and I will give you the key so you may open the door to that classroom,” Khaled said, pointing at the door where the pounding had still not stopped.
Fereshtah nodded. “So, you are going to have me escort them one at a time to the restroom?”
Khaled glared at her. “Follow my orders,” he said flatly.
Fereshtah pursed her lips, but said nothing, and walked back into her office. Shortly Khaled heard Fereshtah giving the instructions, and the pounding on the nearby door stopped.
Fereshtah came back out, and Khaled handed her the key.
Once she unlocked the door, a wave of excited chatter came from the girls who had crowded around the door’s window. Khaled could hear Fereshtah reassuring them, and telling them everything would be fine soon. Seconds later, a girl came out of the room, and Fereshtah locked the door after her.
Fereshtah started to walk with the girl towards the restroom, but Khaled shook his head.
“Bring her here,” Khaled said.
Fereshtah wanted to object, but one look at Khaled’s expression was once again all it took to convince her that would be a bad idea.
The girl stood in front of Khaled, her eyes downcast. Khaled looked up and down the corridor, and it was clear he had the attention of all the girls standing on the other side of the classroom door windows.
Khaled walked behind the trembling girl, and then in a single fluid movement, put one hand around her neck and pulled it backward, while his combat knife appeared in the other hand so quickly it seemed like magic.
This particular skill was one of the reasons Khaled had lived long enough to become a Taliban leader.
In a loud voice, Khaled said, “Everyone watching! This is what will happen the next time any of you make a sound or come near a door!”
“No!” Fereshtah screamed. “Kill me! The girls will be much more frightened if you kill me!”
Khaled considered the offer momentarily. In fact, he was impressed with her unexpected courage.
Then he noticed the sobbing and wailing coming from each of the classrooms.
Perhaps there was a better solution.
Khaled roughly shoved the girl towards Fereshtah. “Put her back in the classroom. Then, lock the door, and bring the key back to me.”
Fereshtah did as he ordered and handed him the key.
“Now, go back to the office and make this announcement. We are going to come together to this hallway at random intervals until you tell them otherwise. If I hear any noise or see anyone at the classroom door windows, I will cut your throat,” Khaled said.
The look of loathing Fereshtah gave him made him smile.
“Remember,” Khaled said, “you volunteered.”
As Fereshtah made the announcement, Khaled nodded, pleased with his solution. He couldn’t have left the girl’s dead body in the hallway where it fell. Khaled also knew from experience that after such a killing, he couldn’t have moved the corpse without getting covered in blood.
The announcement complete, Khaled looked up and down the hallway. All the classroom door windows were clear, and the silence was absolute.
This was much neater.
Kandahar, Afghanistan
Commander Dave Martins looked doubtfully at the micro drones arrayed on the small table. The Afghan military had summarily evicted the residents of the home they were now using as their base. Just as Martins h
ad requested, it was right across the street from the girl’s high school.
Even though it was night, thanks to the security contractor’s work, it might as well have been daytime. Lights blazed from the high wall surrounding the school, and a glow extending into the sky announced that the same was true for the school’s courtyard.
The Afghan Army captain who had welcomed them had told Martins about the eviction by way of saying he would not have to worry about the home’s residents returning and interfering with their operation. Martins had asked carefully whether those residents had been informed they would be compensated by the U.S. government for their inconvenience.
The captain had said yes, but with an evasiveness in his expression that told Martins he was lying.
Thinking back on the exchange made Martins sigh. He knew his history. Anger at homes being seized for the use of British troops was one of the colonial grievances that had led to the American Revolution. The U.S. Constitution, which consisted of four parchment pages, included a prohibition of such seizures.
Martins was convinced that the heavy hand used by the Afghan government in this and many other matters had helped to increase popular support for the Taliban. He was also certain that made his job a lot harder.
Captain Mike Lombardy was putting the finishing touches on a considerably larger drone, which Martins recognized from the briefing as the one that would supply power to the micro drones for most of their flight.
“So, are we about ready?” Martins asked.
“Yes, sir,” Lombardy said. “I’ve just heard from the other teams, and in a few minutes, we’ll all be ready for launch.”
Martins glanced at the laptops set up on what had been the family’s dining room table. Their displays were blank now, but with luck that would soon change.
“We’re sure that their man in the security booth won’t be able to spot the drone you’re working on now?” Martins asked.
“I’m sure, sir. I’m not just counting on the paint job. We know exactly where the security cameras are because an American contractor did the work, and this baby’s going to hover on autopilot where there’s zero coverage,” Lombardy replied.
Martins nodded. More than the words, Lombardy’s total confidence was what convinced him.
A soft whirring and a “beep” announced the activation of the power drone, which rose slowly and then proceeded to the wide-open window. Through it, the wall surrounding the school was clearly visible.
Martins knew where to look, but seconds later, even he wasn’t able to spot the power drone. Seeing the paint job’s performance on video was one thing, but now in the field was another.
Martins had to admit, he was impressed.
“OK, now let’s see what we’re up against,” Lombardy said, as he gently tossed the first of the micro drones out of the window.
One of the laptop displays immediately activated, though at first, the image was spinning and unstable. Then a “beep” sounded from the laptop, and the image stabilized.
“Power drone connection achieved,” Lombardy said calmly, as he used what looked like a large video game controller to steer the micro drone. It took only a minute for it to pass over the school wall, and now they could see a man armed with an automatic rifle standing watch near the gate.
Lombardy gently moved the joystick, and now another man with an automatic rifle came into view near the entrance to the school. He was standing next to a sedan that had been backed up to the school entrance. Its trunk was open.
Martins pointed at the car’s open trunk and said, “I’ll bet that’s where they had the bomb. I hope one of these gadgets will be able to spot where they put it.”
Lombardy nodded but said nothing. Seeing his intent look of concentration, Martins kicked himself. Of course, Lombardy needed to focus on controlling the micro drone.
Moments later, the image of the armed man at the gate grew larger, as did the guard booth. Martins could see what Lombardy was aiming for as a landing spot and nodded with approval. The planter next to the gate was the same dark color as the micro drone, and once there should be practically invisible.
Martins found he was holding his breath as the micro drone slowly lowered itself onto the planter. There was no reaction from either of the men in the courtyard. The image stabilized, and then cut out.
Then Lombardy drew in a deep breath, and Martins realized he hadn’t been the only one worried about detection.
Scrolling back through the images they had just collected, Lombardy stopped when he reached the one showing the open trunk. Then he zoomed in the small part of the trunk’s interior that was visible.
“Sir, I think the bomb is still in the trunk,” Lombardy said. “I don’t want to risk flying a micro drone any closer with that guard standing right there until I have to, but I think that makes sense. If the bomb is made with enough explosives to fill up the trunk, as the school guards said, it’s probably too heavy to move safely. Plus, from what we saw of the wreck of that SUV, there’s no need to move it. It can level the school from right where it is, especially since they left the entrance door open right behind the trunk to admit the full force of the blast.”
Martins grunted. It all made sense. It would also explain why, unlike the man near the gate who they had seen patrol from one end of the wall to the other, the one near the car hardly moved. It was probably because he was in charge of setting off the bomb manually if the Taliban leader couldn’t do so by remote control.
Martins said none of this because there was no need. He just nodded agreement.
Lombardy then gently tossed another micro drone out of the window and repeated the process until only two were left on the table.
“I’m going to try to get one as far inside the school as I can before its battery fails, and the other I’m going to place closer to the entrance,” Lombardy said.
Martins tensed because he thought the chances of the micro drones being spotted would be much higher inside the school than in the courtyard. But Lombardy deftly maneuvered the first one around the man standing guard at the entrance and then sent it sailing down the hallway.
Though he had been worried about finding a good landing spot, there was one practically calling Lombardy by name. It was a bit of dirt and dust that had accumulated in a corner at the very end of the empty hallway. No bigger than a large coin, it could have been designed to conceal the micro drone.
Lombardy’s only real challenge was orienting the micro drone so that it faced down the hallway, rather than towards the wall, before it ran out of power. That done, he put down the control and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Last one,” Lombardy said quietly, as he tossed the final micro drone out of the window. Once again, he had no trouble evading the guard at the school entrance, whose attention was firmly focused on the wall at the other end of the courtyard. Lombardy couldn’t blame him since that was indeed where they were planning to make their entry.
The last micro drone rounded the corner into the hallway and nearly ran into a scowling man standing nearby. Thinking fast, Lombardy decided the only thing to do was to continue straight ahead. He punched two keys on the laptop keyboard in front of him with one hand while using the other to keep the micro drone flying.
Hitting the two keys activated the micro drone already at the end of the hallway. As programmed, it sent a single image that now filled the laptop’s screen.
It showed the man running after the micro drone.
Unfortunately, the micro drone only had one speed. Which was not very fast.
Making matters worse was that Lombardy had no idea how close the man was to the micro drone.
He saw only one chance. Lombardy angled the micro drone’s flight upwards, and then sent it up a flight of stairs he had seen at the end of the hallway.
There would be no image worth seeing, but at least he could keep the micro drone out of the hands of its pursuer. Because of his post inside the school, Lombardy suspected he might be the Tal
iban leader.
At the top of the stairs, the micro drone’s camera showed only blackness.
And then the signal was lost.
Lombardy put down the controller and pressed the laptop keys that should have summoned at least one image from the micro drone. But there was nothing.
“What do you think happened?” Martins asked quietly.
“Well, sir, there are many possibilities,” Lombardy replied. “It may have run out of power because of that altitude increase I did there at the end to try to put it out of reach of the man chasing it. If it dropped from a height onto a hard surface, it could have disabled the camera.”
Martins nodded. “And then the guy chasing it could have picked it up, and be looking at it right now. Or he could have caught it, and smashed it.”
“Yes, sir,” Lombardy replied with a frown. “It’s also possible that it made it far enough up the stairs that the guy wouldn’t be able to find it. It looked pretty dark up there.”
Martins shrugged. “That’s assuming there’s no nearby light switch. Or a flashlight. I think we have to face the possibility that the Taliban know we’re here.”
“Maybe so, sir. But the Taliban had to know we’d come at some point. As you said, they were probably even counting on it. Besides, even if they did find the micro drone and recognize it for what it is, would that be enough to make them set off their bomb?” Lombardy asked.
He had a point, Martins thought. Aloud, he said, “Very well. How do you think we should proceed?”
Martins genuinely wanted Lombardy’s input. But he also wanted to see if he’d be right to recommend that Lombardy take over his team once he was gone. It was moments like this that were often the difference between success and failure.
“I think a short pause, sir. We keep our heads down and see if the Taliban do anything, like issue more threats. If everything stays quiet, we proceed as planned,” Lombardy said.
Great minds think alike, Martins thought.
Aloud, he said, “Very well. Let me know when you’re ready to proceed.”