Chapter 3
Li Han heard the aircraft changing direction, its engines straining. He had counted on more time than this.
The motorcycle was twenty yards away. There was no sense running for it.
He stopped and turned, looking at the UAV tracking him. Its black skin stood out clearly in the blue sky. Barely a thousand feet away, it looked like a vulture, coming for its prey.
There was another nearby. This one was more common, a Predator.
Two aircraft. There was some consolation in that, he thought. He warranted more than the usual effort.
Chapter 4
A warning buzzer sounded as the computer confirmed Mao Man’s identity. A missile had been launched from the interior of the mine he’d been using as cover.
The Raven immediately broke contact with its target. Flares fired from rear of the aircraft. The UAV shut off its engine and fell on its wing, sailing to the right to avoid the missile. Still without power, the UAV twisted on its back and folded into a three-quarter turn, clearing the area so quickly that the shoulder-launched SAM tracking it had no chance to react.
Instead, it locked on the heat signature of the flares. In a few moments it was past them, and realizing it was about to miss, detonated its warhead. Shrapnel sprayed harmlessly in the air.
Raven had already computed a course back to Mao Man. Interestingly enough, the hostile action had no effect on its evaluation of the target. It remained locked at 98.2.
Melissa turned to the Predator screen to watch the aircraft come around. There was a second SAM warning, this one from the Predator.
Then a proximity warning blared.
“Watch out!” Melissa yelled. “You’re too close!”
But it was too late. A black tail filled the Predator screen. Then the video went blank.
Melissa looked back to the Raven panel. It was off-line.
Chapter 5
Li Han threw himself to the ground, knowing he was dead.
There was a loud explosion high above him — the missile fired from the cave.
Then a second sound, closer, though this one softer and longer, more a smack and a tear than a bang.
Another explosion, farther away from the others. A loud crack similar to the first sound.
Li Han lay on the ground for several seconds. He knew he wasn’t dead, yet he didn’t entirely believe it. The aircraft had been so very close to him this time. Finally he pushed up to his knees and turned around. The sky was empty; the aircraft that had been following him were gone.
Once more, Li Han had cheated the Americans. Or God. Or both.
He took a few steps toward the car, then stopped. The aircraft must have been hit by the missiles. If so, their parts would be nearby. There would certainly be something worth scrounging or selling.
One of the Brothers ran from the cave, yelling at him in Arabic. The Brothers — they were all members of a radical group that called itself the Sudan Brotherhood — used Arabic as their official language of choice. It was a difficult language for Li Han; he would have much preferred English.
But the gist of what the man was saying was easily deciphered: Praise Allah that you are alive.
You fool, thought Li Han. It was God who was trying to kill me.
“Where are the planes?” he said to the man in Arabic.
The brother shook his head. Li Han couldn’t be sure if he didn’t know or couldn’t understand his Chinese-accented Arabic.
“The airplane,” he said, using English, and held his hands out as if they were wings. The brother pointed toward the hills.
“Let us take a look,” said Li Han.
The brother began to protest.
“Don’t worry. The Americans never send three planes,” said Li Han, starting away. “We are safe for a while.”
Chapter 6
Jonathon Reid frowned as soon as he entered the director’s dining room. Reginald Harker was sitting at the far end of the table, holding his coffee cup out for the attendant.
Worse news: there was only one other place set. When Reid had received the “invitation” to breakfast with CIA Director Herman Edmund, he assumed Edmund would actually be there.
As an old Agency hand, he should have known better. Reid’s official title was Special Assistant to the Deputy Director Operations, CIA; in fact, he ran his own portfolio of projects at Edmund’s behest. Officially “retired” and back on a contract basis, Reid was the grayest of grayhairs in the Agency.
“Jonathon.” Harker nodded, but didn’t rise.
Reid pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down. Harker had been with the CIA for a little over twenty years. In the old days, he’d been a Middle East expert, and had done his share of time in the region. Reid wasn’t sure what he’d done in the interim, but at the moment he was a deputy in the action directorate, a covert ops supervisor in charge of restricted projects. Reid didn’t know what they were; in fact, he didn’t even know Harker’s formal title. Titles often meant very little in their line of work.
“Just coffee,” Reid told the attendant. “Black.”
“I was glad you could make it,” said Harker after the woman left.
“I was under the impression Herman would be here,” said Reid.
“Very busy morning,” said Harker.
“We have business, then?”
Harker made a face, then looked to the door as the attendant knocked. The woman had worked for the Agency for nearly forty-five years, and undoubtedly had forgotten more secrets than either man had ever been told. But neither Harker nor Reid spoke until she finished laying out Harker’s meal and left a fresh pot of coffee for Reid.
“I understand you’re working with the Office of Special Technology,” said Harker finally. “Heading our half of it.”
“Mmmm,” said Reid noncommittally.
“We need help on an assignment.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
Harker put his elbows on the table and leaned forward over his untouched egg. This was all just show and posture — exactly the thing Reid hated about the Agency bureaucracy. The man obviously needed a favor. He should just come out and say it.
“I’ve been working directly under D-CIA,” said Harker, meaning Edmund. “It’s a special project.”
“So far you’ve told me nothing.”
Harker frowned, then changed tact. “I thought you were retiring, Jonathon.”
“I am retired. Back on contract. At my pleasure.”
Harker picked up his fork and took a mouthful of egg. Reid could now guess what was up: something Harker was in charge of had gone to crap, and he needed help from Whiplash.
“How is it?” asked Reid.
“Cold,” said Harker, putting down his fork.
“So what went wrong?” said Reid finally.
“Why do you think something went wrong?”
“Reg, I have a lot of things to do today.”
“We have a project called Raven,” said Harker. “Have you heard of it?”
“No,” said Reid.
“Well that’s good, at least.” Harker rubbed his face. His fingers pushed so hard that they left white streaks on the skin. “It’s a follow-on to the Predator program. In a sense. We lost one of the planes last night in Africa. We need to recover the wreckage. One of our agents is headed there now. We wondered — the director wondered — if it would be possible for Whiplash to back her up.”