“You never said anything about needing time to upload the codes! What if we do not have forty-five seconds?”
“All programs take time to upload. I thought you knew that. But relax, Abdul. Use the broken link back at the RDC to gain entry. The techs who open the source won’t be expecting someone else waiting to slip in.”
“You had better hope we are given the time, because if this mission fails — whether by your fault or mine — I will gain satisfaction and redemption in your death.”
“Do what you have to do, Almasi… and I will do the same.”
“Goodbye, Jonas Lemon. Let us both pray that this is the last time we speak with one another.” Almasi pressed the “end” button on the phone.
He quickly dialed another number. After thirty seconds the phone began to ring and was answered immediately.
“I am sending you the transponder codes now.”
“Now?” said the American voice on the other end of the line. “I thought we weren’t going for another two days, at the soonest?”
“Everything is in place, is it not?”
“Sure, it has been for weeks.”
“Then what is your problem?”
“I don’t have a problem.” The man’s voice conveyed frustration and insult. “Just send the damn codes. I assume you’ll be controlling the master feed from there?”
“I will. When can you be ready?”
There was a pause on the line, and then: “One p.m. tomorrow, at the soonest. That’s a little over twenty-four hours. I need to round up the last members of my team. They weren’t expecting to be needed so soon.”
“That is not acceptable. We go with or without them,” Almasi said. “I will be back in contact with you in forty-five minutes. Have your team ready to move at that time.”
“Forty-five minutes! That’s not—”
Almasi cut the connection, and then in the deathly quiet of his underground bunker, he clenched his teeth and firmed his resolve. He could still salvage the events of the past few days — with something so huge that it would impact the United States of America for generations to come.
Within the day, Abdul-Shahid Almasi would make history… by destroying it.
Chapter 20
The reunion that afternoon at Andrews Air Force Base between Xander and the other Alphas was both touching and emotional. In most cases, these were people he’d known since his pre-teens. Together they’d discovered the joy of building and flying UAVs, and when the time came to test their skills against the best of the best, they had risen to the occasion in gold medal-winning fashion.
“I should have known the two of you would be right in the thick of things,” said the only woman on the Alpha Team, Karen Prado.
“Hey, don’t blame me,” Billy Jenkins protested. “Zan showed up at my door yesterday — a door that’s been shattered to pieces from about a thousand bullet holes, I might add — and now I’m in Washington, D.C., trying to figure out how to save the country from a deadly horde of ravenous drones.”
Karen smiled. “Yeah, he does have that effect on people.” She had been Xander’s first, even if he suspected Billy had been hers. When adolescents spend so much time together, sharing a common passion, things are bound to happen. It hadn’t lasted; they seldom do at that age.
“So, Karen, you got married… and divorced?”
She snorted. “I got the first one out of the way early so I could make way for Mr. Right.” She looked at Billy and winked. “Now someone with shitloads of money would be just the ticket.”
Billy wrinkled his nose at her. “When will I find a woman who loves me for me and not my money?”
Hugh Barden slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t knock it. Once they get to know the real Billy Jenkins, money’s about the only thing you have going for you.”
Hugh was the true lady’s man of the group. Crowding six-foot-five, the slender, mixed Hispanic and Caucasian man had a perpetual tan, curly black hair, and a brilliant white smile. He was the least technically-proficient of the group, yet he was a ruthless bastard when it came to drone piloting. Given a small nudge, he would have turned into a taller and better-looking version of Jonas Lemon.
Xander hugged the other two members of the team in turn. Jeremy Fenton was short, plump, with the stereotypical look of the tech geek. He and Xander were the first to discover UAVs, and it was through the obvious joy they’d both displayed when at the controls of their small quadcopters that the others thought they’d give it a try. And the rest was history.
“Curt, they let you out?” Xander asked the last member of the team — the tallish and stocky Curt Tharp.
“Not really, but your friends here obviously have some clout. They said if I play nice they could even make it permanent.”
“Dude, I was only kidding!” Xander said with shock and embarrassment.
“I wish I was, but that’s what you get for running with the wrong crowd. Wouldn’t you know it, that with so many drugs being legal these days, I would get caught dealing in the one that wasn’t.”
“How long have you been in?”
“Six months.” Curt noticed the concerned looks on the faces of the other team members. “Don’t worry. I understand they want us to fly some drones. Up until the day I reported to Lompoc, I had a controller in my hand. It’s like riding a bike, right?”
“A quarter-of-a-million dollar bike, Mr. Tharp,” Nathan commented. By now, Xander had pried a last name out of him — if it truly was his last name. It was Hall. Nathan Hall.
“No shit?” Curt said, looking with anticipation at Xander and Billy. “They’re going to let us play with quarter-mill toys?”
Xander nodded with a smile. “That’s what you get when you spend other people’s money. Kind of lose perspective about the true value of things.”
“That may be so, Mr. Moore. Still, try not to break anything,” Nathan said. “If you do, you’ll be billed for it.”
Curt threw up his hands. “Then I’m outta here. Take me back to prison, boys. At least there, if I break something it’s just a couple of skulls that needed it in the first place.”
Xander stepped up and assumed command of Team Alpha, just as he had so many times in the past. “Okay, fun and games are over. This is some serious shit we’re facing. I’m sure you’ve all been keeping up on recent events…”
“Hard not to, it’s all that’s on these days,” Karen said.
“Unfortunately, you’re only seeing the tip of the iceberg. This is more than just a series of random terrorist attacks against the evil Western Empire. We believe there are people who want to ruin America economically, and they mean to do it by destroying Christmas.”
“Are the people you speak of green-skinned with pointed ears and a mangy dog as a companion?” Hugh asked.
“I’d take the Grinch any day over these bastards, but here’s what we have: the RDC has been taken out, and even though there may be a fair number of combat-rated drones sitting idle in the rapid-response bunkers across the country, we don’t have time to reprogram them all to respond to secondary control. Thanks to Mr. Hall and DARPA—”
“DARPA? Karen asked. “You mean the bunch of super-smart guys and gals who get to play with all the most-advanced toys imaginable and with all the money the government can provide?”
“Where do I sign up for that gig?” Jeremy Fenton asked. “I’m a super-smart guy who likes to play with toys.”
“Just for the record, Mr. Fenton,” Nathan Hall said, “I’ve looked at your resume, and if we survive — or more precisely, if you survive — you have a spot here with us.”
Jeremy’s mouth fell open for a moment. “I wonder if it’s too soon to talk about my salary requirements? You know I don’t come cheap?”