Piranha

“Happy to do it. Mr. Stone, once we’re out of radar range, set a course to pick up the Discovery.”

“Wait’ll they see the video,” Murph said. “MacD and Trono will be sorry they missed it.”

Juan walked over to Murph and handed him Lieutenant Dominguez’s phone memory card.

“Before you show off your pyrotechnic skills, the first priority for you and Eric is to decrypt this.”

Murph turned it over in his hands. “It feels damp.”

“I had it in my pocket when I went into the drink. Linc has a laptop for you as well, but that should be nice and dry.”

“Too bad,” Murph said. “I like a challenge.”

“I have a hunch our new friend Admiral Ruiz doesn’t want us to find out what’s on this memory card. I want to know what else she’s up to.”

Panama City, Florida

It was the first time Major Norm Miller had seen every single pilot station occupied inside Tyndall Air Force Base’s Gulf Range Drone Control System facility. Most of the time, only one target drone was being flown, but this morning was the final test flight before the actual mission the next week. Everything had to go perfectly or the demonstration could be scrubbed. Miller had no intention of letting the slightest detail be overlooked, not with his promotion to lieutenant colonel on the line.

“Give me system status,” he said, and each station responded that all systems were operating in the green and ready for takeoff.

“Excellent. Then let’s begin. Quail One, radio the tower for clearance to taxi.”

Miller, a former fighter jockey with sunbaked skin and thi

The lead drone taxiing on the tarmac turned so that the camera on the following drone got a good side view. It was a modified F-16 Fighting Falcon, now called a QF-16 to distinguish the sleek fighter as a target drone destined to be destroyed someday by another plane or ship. Its tail and wingtips were painted a bright orange, and an external fuel pod was slung under its belly.

Miller never could get used to seeing a plane that had been designed for a human pilot take off with an empty cockpit, but that’s exactly what Quail 1 did now, its afterburner spewing a glowing red tail behind it. Quail 2 continued the procession. Circling above were two ma

This mission was not the typical flight out over the Gulf of Mexico test range. The eight planes—six drones and two escorts—were part of a live-fire drill for the UNITAS joint combat exercise carried out a

The QF-16s were to make a precision flyby to demonstrate their pinpoint navigation and handling prowess. Then one drone would peel away and serve as an elusive target for the Aegis guided missile destroyers in the fleet. The goal of Miller’s team was to keep the drone flying for as long as possible before it was brought down. He aimed to make it a long day for the swabbies.

Today, they were simulating the long duration of the mission by flying the same course, but over the Gulf of Mexico. Everything went smoothly until an hour in.

“Major,” Quail 4’s lead pilot said, “I’ve got something odd here.”

Miller answered. “What is it?”

The pilot hesitated and looked at his copilot before responding. “It seems we lost the link to the plane for a few moments.”

“It seems you did? Did you lose telemetry?”

“No, the telemetry was nominal. But I could have sworn I saw the plane waggle its wings.”

“‘Waggle its wings’? Weren’t you on autopilot?”

“Yes, sir. That’s why I don’t understand it.”

“You’re sure?”

“I was moving my eyes to the camera feed when I saw it.”

Miller frowned and turned to the copilot. “Did you see the plane execute any unpla

“No, sir. I was checking the GPS data at the time.”

Quail 4 was the rearmost plane in the formation, so none of the other drone pilots would have been able to see it. Only the leftmost chase plane would have a view of it.

Miller radioed the pilot. “Chase One, we have a report of an unintended maneuver on Quail Four. Did you see anything unusual?”

“‘Unusual,’ Tyndall Base? Like what?”

“Like a . . . waggle. It’s wings waggling.”

Miller heard a chuckle on the other end. “No, I didn’t see a waggle.”

“Roger that, Chase One. Out.”

Quail 4’s pilot had heard the exchange and tried to laugh it off. “Maybe my eyes are playing tricks on me.”

Miller patted him on the shoulder. He knew how tedious it was to man a station like this. “Just keep an eye on it,” he said, “both of you. If you see anything like that again, you let me know.”

“Yes, sir,” they both replied, but Miller didn’t think he’d be hearing from them again during the flight, and he didn’t expect to see anything strange in the postflight telemetry data, either.

Miami

Brian Washburn winked at the barista who took his coffee order. The pretty, twenty-something blonde turned red and gri

Now that he was back in the private sector, he took care to cultivate the persona of a regular Joe, despite the wealth that the Washburn Industries conglomerate had given him. Nothing could better help him co

Every time he had to stand inside this grubby little place, he stewed about the man who had defeated him in the primary and then chosen James Sandecker as his ru

He didn’t betray any of that discontent when his name was called by the barista. He gave her a warm smile and took his coffee outside and around the side of the building, where he climbed into the backseat of a black Cadillac Escalade. Two blocks away, the driver let him out at the oceanfront high-rise where his company was headquartered. His cell phone rang as soon as he reached the privacy of his palatial penthouse office. The screen showed the contact listing for his attorney.