Raven Strike

He laughed.

The drone banked. The sound began to dim.

“You will go when I tell you,” he said to the man standing near him.

The man nodded. He knew he was a decoy, knew even that he was very likely to die. And yet he stood there willingly, prepared to run, prepared to take the drone away.

Fool!

The sound lessened as the UAV banked toward the farthest edge of its track above.

“Now,” whispered Li Han.

The man pulled the scarf over his head, pitched forward and left the cave.

Chapter 2

Ethiopia, Africa

Melissa Ilse felt her breath catch as the figure emerged from the shadow of the hillside.

Mao Man, or an imposter?

Not for her to decide—Raven would make the call.

She watched the video feed change as the UAV’s sensors locked onto the figure. His back was turned to the aircraft. The plane changed course slightly, angling so it could get a look at the man’s face.

Melissa folded her arms to keep herself from interfering. This was the hardest part of the mission—to let Raven do its job on its own.

“Here we go,” said Major Krock. The Air Force officer headed the team piloting the Predator UAV, which was flying with and helping monitor Raven. “Here he comes.”

Melissa folded her arms. Even on good days she found Krock barely tolerable.

Four vehicles were parked along the hillside below. The figure kept his head down as he reached the dirt road where they were parked. Raven took data from its sensors, comparing what they gathered to its known profiles of the criminal the CIA had nicknamed Mao Man. The system began with the most basic measurements—gender, height, weight—then moved on to the more esoteric, measuring the figure’s gait, the arc of his head movements. The computer could identify and sort over twelve hundred features, weighing each one according to a complicated algorithm. Using these data points, it then determined a “target match probability”; it would not strike unless that probability went over 98.875 percent.

It currently stood at 95.6.

Melissa watched the man on the ground reaching for the door handle of the vehicle. She could see the computer’s calculations in real time if she wanted, pulling it up on her main monitor.

She didn’t. What she wanted was for the operation to be over, to be successful—for Raven to prove itself. They’d been at this for over a month.

Nail him, she thought. Let’s go.

Suddenly, the main video feed changed. Melissa looked over at the computer screen—target match probability had dropped below fifty percent.

A decoy?

There was another figure moving from the mine, scrambling down the hill.

Mao Man?

Raven wasn’t sure. The computer learned from its mistakes, and having been hoodwinked just a few moments before, it would be doubly cautious now.

It was 87.4 percent.

Then 88.6.

It has to be him, she thought.

Nail him!

Come on, come on—kill the son of a bitch already!

Chapter 3

Southeastern Sudan

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 ru

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

Western Ethiopia

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

Southeastern Sudan

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.