THE CV-22 BANKED SHARPLY, and Tony was thrown to one side. He smacked, shoulder first, into the webbed seating across from Kenny’s console, and a bolt of pain shot up his back. He grabbed one of the aluminum struts supporting the seats.
“Incoming!” Kenny shouted over the comm net. The airframe twisted and shook as several explosions sounded outside. Tony’s gut went weightless for a moment, and outside the rear door, the horizon whirled as the plane got knocked into a flat spin.
Cal’s voice was strained over the radio. “Power failure engine one! Recovering. But we’re goin’ in!”
Tony hung on for dear life. The nose dropped for an instant, and then flared as Cal brought them out of the spin. The view stopped rotating but they were still coming down fast. Tony glimpsed a FedEx truck pulling to a stop at the cemetery’s entrance.
Then the plane hit the ground hard. The world went black.
***
Hadi nodded in satisfaction at the smoke rising from the downed tilt-rotor aircraft. The EMP drone that had accompanied it was down as well, and that meant nothing could stop them now. He and Ghazi were hidden at the tree line at the edge of the park. The cemetery was directly across the four-lane road in front of them, and Aasif had parked the FedEx truck at the entrance gate less than fifty yards to their left. The park was still emptying behind them, people fleeing from the midair explosions, and for that same reason traffic on the road circling the cemetery was light. Applause and cheers from the distant stadium drifted over the scene. Hadi donned his headset.
Ghazi sat on the ground beside him. His laptop was plugged into the VR goggles he wore, and he had a twin-joystick console on his lap. “I’m ready,” he said into his boom microphone.
“Ready to launch,” Aasif’s voice said over Hadi’s headset.
Ghazi said, “Remember to clear out of there as soon as the launch is complete.”
“Copy that, brother. Ebrahem is standing by to open the roof now. As soon as the birds are clear, we’ll vanish and meet you in Las Vegas. Transferring control now.”
“Control acquired,” Ghazi said. “Launch drones.”
“Launching in three…two…one.”
The truck’s roof popped open, and a mass of drones climbed into the sky. Ghazi monitored the lead drone using his portable screen, ready to wrest control if it strayed off course. The other drones followed its track toward the open seam below the stadium’s sail-shaped dome. Once inside, the drones would operate autonomously, in the preprogrammed dance the team had practiced time and time again over the ranch. Farhad and Jamal had mapped the interior airspace over the stadium stands precisely, double- and triple-checking their measurements during the months they’d worked there. Using invisible laser-measurement tools synced to an app Ebrahem had programmed into their iPhones, they’d recreated the points in space over their ranch. The three hundred drones were to have come from the three vans. However, every good plan had a backup, so the FedEx truck housed an equal number of drones in the twelve-inch space created under its roof, and once they arrived inside the facility, the results would be the same.
The entire sequence should play out autonomously, but too much had gone wrong today and they weren’t taking any chances. So in the event of a problem, Ghazi could take over from where he sat on the grass beside Hadi.
Flexibility in battle was the key to success.
***
A slap on the face. A faint voice “Tony!” Another slap. “Wake up.”
A second voice. “Slap him again.”
Tony snapped his eyes open and caught Kenny’s wrist mid-swing. “I’m awake, dammit.” They were still in the plane.
Cal hovered over him. “You okay?”
Tony blinked, and pushed himself up. His head swam. “Hell no, I’m not okay. How long have I been out?”
“Less than a minute,” Kenny said.
His back hurt and his head throbbed. He growled against the pain and pushed to his feet. “The FedEx truck is at the gate!” he said, unlatching the SAW from its seat and tearing toward the back of the aircraft.
Sam and one of his SEALs stopped, out of breath, to greet Tony at the ramp. The three other SEALs were running toward him at full speed. “Glad you’re okay,” Sam said.
“Time to get some!” Tony said without slowing, and the SEALs followed him.
They were a hundred yards from the FedEx truck when its hinged roof popped open and a swarm of drones swirled out of it like bats from a cave. The mass darkened the sky as they sped toward the stadium.
“Nooo,” Tony cried. He dropped to a knee and took aim, but stopped himself before squeezing the trigger. There was a neighborhood park behind the truck, and rows of homes beyond that. The NATO rounds from the M249 would travel nearly two miles, causing deadly collateral damage. A savage yell poured from his gut. He lowered his aim and went full cyclic on the truck instead. He panned the weapon side to side, strafing lead into it at a rate of eight hundred rounds a minute, hoping that by destroying the control vehicle, the drones would be aimless. The SEALs joined in. When the fuel tank erupted, the truck lifted from the ground in a fiery explosion. No one inside could’ve have survived.
But not a single drone dropped from the sky.
***
“Looking good,” Ghazi said, his focus buried in his goggles.
Hadi’s eyes remained on the truck. Two of his boys were in there. He sighed with relief when the last of the drones was clear and the front passenger door opened. Aasif was first out, and as he swept his gaze left and right to confirm there was no cross traffic, Ebrahem stepped down beside him. That was when the staccato of automatic weapons sounded from the other side of the truck, and the vehicle jumped under the fusillade. Aasif and Ebrahem crouched behind the wheels as they’d been taught, each pulling submachine guns from their packs. But the onslaught didn’t permit them to return fire. Hadi guessed from the looks they exchanged they were about to make a run for it.
Until the truck exploded in a fireball.
***
“Yeah!” Cassie shouted, jumping to her feet. She sang along to Miley Cyrus’s latest hit, and everyone else joined in, too. Well, not everyone. Jacob may have known the words, but maybe he thought he was a little too cool to sing them out loud. It was a girly song. Wait a minute, he’d been holding her hand when she was sitting down. Had she actually just let go of his hand when she bounced up? Was she insane? He rose and started clapping to the music. He nudged her with his hip, winked, and joined in on the chorus.
She sighed. Life is good.
Halfway through the song, a line of drones swept in from the slit under the dome. They were moving super-fast, and she stared at the formation in wonder.
“There are hundreds of them!” someone shouted.
“That’s lit!” Emma yelled. The crowd agreed, and their cheers echoed across the stadium.
The line of drones spiraled into the shape of a wide funnel cloud directly over Molly’s center stage. The overhead billboard displayed videos and images that went along with the song, but the quadrant of wall screens suspended over the center of the field, as well as those scattered along the perimeter, showed close-ups of Miley from various angles. She seemed as surprised as everyone else by the wondrous formation of drones, but she went with it and kept singing. Suddenly, the sound system went silent, and the drones spread out to hover over every section of the stadium seating area. Miley stopped singing, and the crowd quieted.
***
As soon as the FaceTime call with President Jackson ended, I jumped back on the computer with the Spider. Two minutes after that, the signal from Agent Hubbarth’s tie clip filled the laptop screen. And there was my dad. He was handcuffed to a handrail in an elevator, and his shoulder was bleeding. The terrorist, who Ahmed said was named Farhad, had a gun pointed at Dad’s face.
Sarafina gasped. Mom cried out, “He needs help!”
What should I do? Who should I contact? LAPD? Secret Service? President Jackson?
All of them.
***
Jake swallowed hard when he saw the drones on the elevator’s video feed.
Farhad sneered. “Feast your eyes on your failure.”
Hundreds of drones had flown into the stadium. They peeled from the funnel cloud to hover in perfect formation over the stadium crowd. Jake knew from his intel that each carried a C4 explosive, and if the mass detonated simultaneously, the blast wave alone could collapse the entire structure. This had been Farhad’s end game all along. “Dear God, you mustn’t.”
“Oh, but I must. And I will. In any case, it’s out of my hands now. It’s all automated, you see. Even my farewell speech.” He looked at his watch. “Which should be coming up right…about…now.” Farhad’s masked image filled the screen.
There was a collective gasp from the crowd, and then Farhad’s voice over the loudspeakers. “Please remain in your seats for a special announcement…”
Farhad muted the volume and turned his back on the screen. “It’s a great speech, if I do say so myself. It starts with a quick explanation of what will happen if anyone moves from their seats, and in a second there will be a quick example to let them know I’m serious.” Farhad cocked an ear, and sure enough an explosion rattled the elevator. “That was two drones collapsing a second-tier exit. That should keep everyone from trying to leave for a few more minutes. Anyway, where was I? Oh, my speech. I do drone on a bit, pun intended. And I suppose it’s a tad too long, but then again how often does one have an opportunity to create a video that will be shared more times than any in history, right?”
Farhad’s masked image on the monitor was replaced by a new scene, and Jake had to fight to conceal his shock. Farhad didn’t notice so Jake held his gaze and the man kept talking.
“The gist of it is that this is only the beginning for America. Many years of planning have gone into what is about to happen. Today’s attack will drive home the point that even when Homeland Security is at its highest level of readiness, it still can’t protect its people. Americans will die, and there is nothing your government, and certainly not you, can do to stop it. In fact, maybe the blame for this shall be laid at your feet when they find your remains. After all, you’re the person the world knows as the global terrorist. Ironic, right? You’ve been improperly labeled a terrorist by a series of cleverly edited videos, and as a result the world wants your head. While I, on the other hand, will simply walk free as just another American who was fortunate enough to survive the biggest terrorist attack in American history. Hell, maybe I’ll be a hero.”
The comment regarding the altered videos rocked him. “How could you possibly know the videos were edited to frame me?”
“I viewed the original raw footage only yesterday, right before I destroyed it.” He smiled, threw a switch on the service panel, and hit the button for the tunnel level. The elevator started its descent.
Jake chose his words carefully. “So we’re headed down to the tunnel level, and you’re just going to walk out wearing your jumpsuit and employee badge?”
Farhad slipped the pistol into his pocket. “As easily as I came in. Nobody knows my face.”
The elevator stopped.
Wanna bet?
Jake finally looked up at the monitor to see the feed of him cuffed in the elevator with Farhad’s unmasked face in full view, captured by a camera that had to be somewhere on the dead agent’s body.
Thanks, Agent Hubbarth.
The doors hissed open. Farhad glanced out to confirm the way was clear, gripping the pistol hidden in his pocket. Satisfied, Farhad stepped out and disappeared from view.
Two seconds later there was a volley of gunfire, and a man’s voice shouted, “Clear!” Footsteps pounded, and an agent caught the elevator doors before they closed. Another agent hurried in and uncuffed Jake.
Two medics followed him in. “We’ve got you,” one of them said, as a third medic pushed a gurney into view. The medics reached out, but Jake shoved past the lot of them and ran into the corridor, speed-dialing his phone. There was only one way to stop those drones, and he needed to find out why it hadn’t happened yet.
As the phone rang in his ear, Lacey rushed over. She hugged him, careful to avoid his injury. “Thank God you’re okay.”
Farhad lay sprawled with several gunshot wounds on the floor behind her. Though two medics were working to stem the bleeding, Jake could see the terrorist wouldn’t make it. But Farhad was still alive, and his eyes widened a fraction when he saw Jake looking down at him. Jake turned his back on him.
Marshall answered the phone. “Jake! We thought you—”
“Where’s Kenny’s drone? Why hasn’t it blasted those drones?”
“The Sparkler was shot down. So was the CV-22.”
Jake’s friends were on that plane, but he pushed those thoughts aside for now. He had to focus on the people in the stadium. He pulled off his bloody suit coat, ripped open his shirt to unstrap the fake paunch, and raced for the staircase. “Patch Pete and Skylar into my phone!” he shouted, ripping off his shirt sleeve and taking two steps at a time.