ABU DHABI, UAE—20:05 / 8:05 P.M. GST
The black Suburban was cruising slowly along Hada-Aiq Al Raha Street. Inside, Nir and his team were in a holding pattern, awaiting more information. Following close behind was a second Suburban with an assault team from the Emirati Presidential Guards. Director Al Rashidi of the SIA had assured Nir that a dozen more loaded SUVs were cruising the streets within a mile of Al Raha Creek, Yas Marina, and Yas Bay Waterfront.
The drone swarm should be taking off at any moment, and Nir and his men were diligently scanning the sky, looking for movement. The only eyes not looking up belonged to the PG driver and the Romanian who sat in the second row, wedged between Avi and Dima.
The SIA had tracked down an RF sensor in Dubai. Located 150 km north, there would have been time to fly it down to the team. However, a battle began over who would control it. The police held ownership of it, and Tamim still wasn’t thrilled about working with the Israelis. He would loan it out only on the condition that it remained in the control of the Abu Dhabi police department.
Meanwhile, Lahav had been busy tracking down his “friend of a friend,” finally locating him through a dark-web connection. The man was normally resistant to helping any governmental authority, but Lahav had found success by appealing to his humanity, which surprisingly, the technology smuggler still possessed. It also helped that the Emirati equivalent of $200,000 USD was thrown into the mix. Given the option between having a Dubai police device that would remain one step removed from his control and carrying an RF sensor in the vehicle with him, Nir had told Efraim to tell Tamim where he could shove his sensor and gone with option B.
Nir thought Nicolae Filipescu looked like a mishmash of every Hollywood Eastern European organized crime syndicate stereotype. His hair was perfectly quaffed and held in place with a healthy dose of gel, his beard was full and slightly unkempt, and his dark-blue tracksuit was zipped down far enough at the neck to reveal a heavy gold chain and medallion resting on a full chest of hair. Despite living in the UAE, the man’s Arabic was limited. However, like many Romanians, he spoke fluent Russian. Therefore, Nir had tapped Dima to be their translator. A laptop rested on the smuggler’s legs, and he had Dima and Avi each holding an elaborate antenna out the windows on either side of the truck.
“Ask him again, Dima,” Nir said.
Dima asked Filipescu whether he’d seen anything yet.
“Nyet.”
Nir turned to the front window. It was already past time, and he was beginning to worry that this RF sensor business was just a wild goose chase. He knew part of the reason for his doubt was that he didn’t really understand the whole thing. But ultimately, that laptop Filipescu held was their one basket, and in it were all of their eggs.
20:10 / 8:10 P.M. GST
Completing one last walk-though to confirm that every drone was laid out properly and powered-up, Muzahim al-Aiyubi sat down at a table. Resting on it was one row of 12 RC controllers and one row of 13. Each individual controller was linked to a mini-swarm of ten drones. The little boxes themselves were wired to one master controller. Before this piece of equipment was where al-Aiyubi sat. The switch made a satisfying click as he powered up the device.
Turning toward his men, he could see they were excited and nervous. “You have done well, my brothers. We have carried out our part of Allah’s plan for righteous vengeance. Let us pray that he will bless our efforts as we strike this blow against the infidel.”
“Amin,” they all responded.
The flip of another switch started the propellors on the drones. The volume went from silent to deafening inside the warehouse, as the UAVs immediately jumped to idle speed. Al-Aiyubi signaled to two men stationed next to large sliding doors. They pulled them open, then stepped back.
Al-Aiyubi turned his attention to a laptop that held a firewire connection to the main controller. When he tapped in a key code, the blade speed of the drones increased even more. Then row by row the UAVs lifted off the floor and moved toward the open door. It was an awe-inspiring sight. A full two minutes passed before all 25 rows had exited the warehouse. As soon as the last drone was through, the two men slammed the doors closed again.
Turning his attention back to the computer screen, al-Aiyubi saw an array of 250 dots. Now this would be the only view he would have of the show. He had no cameras set up, no video feed beaming in. But he knew that as long as the dots remained on his screen and went through their programmed acrobatics, his part of the mission would be a success.
20:15 / 8:15 P.M. GST
“There they are!” Zabe was the first to spot the lights in the sky. Wasaku and the rest of the onlookers had been looking a little too far to the right. But they all adjusted their perspective in time to see the UAVs begin their first movement. White lights flashed in a synchronized pattern that appeared to be simulating the tide rushing in and out—once, twice, three times. Then suddenly the sky filled with lights that arced up like a giant wave, then came crashing down, spreading in every direction. Wasaku heard the crowd ooh and aah.
Next the lights formed two Arabic words, one on top of the other, and they slowly spun in the sky. Maybe Abu Dhabi. Maybe Emiratis Rock. Maybe Eat at Joe’s Crab Shack, although that was probably too many words. Wasaku had no clue. Suddenly, the lights went out. Moments later, they reappeared spread across the night sky. The drones spun and arced and eventually coalesced into a falcon, the national symbol of the UAE. Amazingly, the wings began to pump up and down, and the huge bird flew across the sky.
Wasaku was entranced. Taking a moment to pull his eyes away from the sky to the throng around him, his heart lifted. Looks of joy and wonder were on every child’s face, and every adult was smiling ear to ear.
Nevin caught him looking, and, beaming, he said, “Amazing.”
“You got that right, brother. I’ve never seen anything like it.”