Raven Strike

“You told me you had located the UAV.”

“Raven is not the aircraft,” said Reid. “I need to know about the software, Herman. I need to know how much of a danger it is.”

“Software is software. It flies the plane.”

“That’s not all it does.”

“In this case, it is.”

“What are the safeguards?”

“I don’t know the technical data. Obviously, I’d be out of my element discussing them. As would you.”

“I want to speak to the people who developed the software and the computer that it runs in,” insisted Reid. “I want them to talk to my experts.”

“Can’t happen.”

“Why not?”

Edmund shook his head. “Can’t.”

A buzzer sounded.

“Come,” said Edmund loudly.

In response, the attendant opened the door and wheeled in a tray with their food. The director had ordered a cheese omelet with home fries.

“I had the chef hold the onions,” said Edmund. “I have meeting with the Secretary of State later. Though on second thought, maybe that would have been a good idea.”

He laughed at his own joke. Reid said nothing until the attendant left. “My fear,” he said then, “is that the program, if it were to get into the wild, would be unstoppable.”

“What do you mean, in the wild?”

“Like a virus. It has that sort of capability.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Jonathon. Your tech people should be able to tell you that.”

Reid rose as Edmund took a bite from his omelet.

“Where are you going?” asked the director.

“I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Sit down, Jonathon.”

This was exactly the sort of situation Reid had dreaded when he decided to return to the Agency after his retirement. But it was also exactly the reason he had not taken the post of DDO.

“I don’t think we have anything else to talk about,” he said coldly. “If you’re not going to give me full access to the Raven program, anything else either one of us says would be pointless.”

“Jonathon—”

Reid hesitated, half expecting Edmund to change his mind, or perhaps appeal to their long friendship. But the director said nothing else.

“Maybe I’ll be hungry later,” said Reid, pocketing the yogurt before leaving.

Chapter 20

Western Ethiopia

Turk had now been up for an ungodly number of hours, and while his own personal record was in no danger of falling, he was nonetheless feeling the strains of fatigue. With the Whiplash team back in Ethiopia and a Global Hawk now overhead for surveillance, he was no longer needed. Assuming the satellite arrived in a few hours, he could even go home.

Until then he had to stay nearby. So he called Da

The runway was a long hash mark just off the peak of a ridge in the mountains, a little on the short side, though not a problem for the diminutive Tigershark. But the field wasn’t exactly the smoothest, with an almost wavy pattern ru

One of the Whiplash team members took a truck out to meet him, and guided him to the maintenance area—a lone fuel truck standing in the middle of an open space.

The Tigershark had been designed to operate from forward bases, and the aircraft’s engine intakes had special screens designed to lessen the possibility that they would ingest engine debris. This base was rough even by Whiplash standards, however; he’d need some help checking the runway before takeoff.

Turk popped the canopy, secured the aircraft, then clambered down to the ground. His muscles felt as if they’d atrophied after his long stint in the air.

“Captain Mako, welcome to Shangri-La,” said Boston, hopping from the truck that had escorted him in.

“Hey, Boston.” Turk stuck out his hand. “Long time no see. Call me Turk.”

“Yes, sir, Turk.”

“Where can I get some food and a bunk?” he asked.

“Empty beds in either that little building over there, next to the two big ones,” said Boston, pointing. “Or else one of the tents. We have prisoners in the ones with guards outside them.”

“I’ll stay out of those.”

“Not a bad idea.”

“Where’s Colonel Freah?”

“That would be the big building on the left.”

“Wash the windows and check the oil,” said Turk as he started for the building.

“Jeez, very fu

Turk cracked up. Corny jokes always put him into a good mood.

He walked up the slight rise toward the buildings, warmed by the sun as it poked between the nearby peaks. He was just pulling open the door to the large building when someone on the other side yanked it from his hand. A furious cloud flew out of the door, knocking him back.

It was the most beautiful cloud he’d ever seen.

“Wow, aren’t you pretty,” said Turk.

“And aren’t you an asshole,” said Melissa, practically spitting at him.

“Come on,” laughed Turk. “You must have seen bigger ones.”

“Asshole.”

Turk watched her walk away. He had never seen a pair of fatigues move with such sexual energy before.

“Enjoy the show?” asked Da

“I would have landed hours ago if I knew the sights were so pretty,” said Turk.

“Watch yourself, Captain.”

“I will, Colonel. Definitely. Say, you got a minute? I may need a little help inspecting the runway to make sure we don’t have debris before takeoff. Plus, I have a couple of ideas about where the bad guys may be.”

Da

Nuri waited impatiently by the Mercedes for Da

Of course, this might be a wild-goose chase. The rest of the aircraft could be hundreds of miles away by now.

“Sorry that took so long,” said Da

“How long before it gets here?” asked Nuri.

“It’s en route. It may be a while.”

Nuri walked to the driver’s side door. “I’ll drive.”

“Hold up,” said Da

“What?”

“I thought we were taking Melissa.”

“She’s not here, that’s her problem.”

“What is it with you and her, Nuri?” said Da

“She’s not telling us the whole story,” said Nuri. “And I don’t trust her.”

“You have to keep the Whiplash people cut out of the picture.”

Harker was practically shouting. Melissa started to raise her right arm to rub her forehead, but a shock of pain stopped her. Sugar probably had been right—she almost certainly had torn a ligament.

“Look, the only way to get the UAV back is with their help,” Melissa told her boss.

“That’s not a question—get it back.”

“Then I have to work with them. You sent them.”

“I didn’t send them. The director sent them. Not the same thing.”

She glanced at her watch. She was ten minutes late. Nuri would have a fit.

Hell, he’d probably left without her. It would be just like him.

“I have to go,” she told Harker.

“Melissa. Get this done. Take out Mao Man. If you—”

She killed the line, turned off the phone, and shoved the sat phone back into the safe box in her footlocker. Her other phone was already in her pocket.