CHAPTER 104

Ron Dalton, the duty officer at the island station, read the message twice before starting to shout. The jungle camp was tiny, barely long enough for the runway, and all the crucial ground control equipment was packed into a thirty-foot trailer. The Predator drone aircraft had no hangar and were transported disassembled in crates known to the crew as coffins. Dalton burst out of the trailer and stared at the runway where the fourth plane was taxiing into position.

“Abort!” he screamed into the thick jungle air. “Shut it down!”

One of the ground crew stood up and stared at him, but clearly couldn’t hear over the Predator’s engine.

“Problem?” said a voice behind him.

Dalton turned. It was Harris, the weird kid who played with the computers all the time and never talked. He might be just the person he needed.

“We have to abort the mission,” said Dalton. “The targeting system has been compromised.”

“Yeah?” said the kid, his eyes blank as ever. Then something appeared, a little flicker of satisfaction that Dalton had never seen before in the kid’s face. He didn’t like it. “You don’t know who I am, do you?” said the kid, still smiling that weird little smile.

“What are you talking about?” said Dalton. “This is serious . . .”

“I said, you don’t know who I am,” said the kid, the smile stiffening.

Dalton started to walk away. He didn’t have time for adolescent games. He muttered as much to himself as he headed back to the trailer, his mind already moving on. So he wasn’t even thinking about Harris when the knife went through his shoulder blade and into his heart.

“See?” said the kid, over Dalton’s wheezing body. “I am Death.”