Piranha

Cabrillo chuckled as he walked out of the room. “That was even more fun than I thought it would be.”

But Kensit wasn’t laughing. Try as he might to take Cabrillo’s words as nothing more than tough talk, for the first time since he began to develop Sentinel Kensit actually felt uneasy.

The first shimmer of dawn peeked above the hills now denuded of the thick forest that Linda had seen in Gunther Lutzen’s photos of the area in 1902. The vegetation that had sprung up in its place was a thicket of small trees and bushes that covered the gullies and ridges around Lake Péligre.

From their prone position on a rocky outcrop, she and Eric had a clear view of the cement plant five hundred yards to the east where it abutted the coastline. There was virtually no breeze to ruffle the water reflecting the scattered clouds being illuminated by the morning sun.

They had left the PIG a mile away and hiked to this spot through uninhabited country. Linda sca

“What’s the force projection?” Eric asked.

“I count at least ten so far, but those buildings are big enough to house a regiment. How is the PIG looking?”

Eric tapped on his control pad, then looked at his watch. “Everything checks out, but I can’t drive and operate the weapons systems simultaneously. If Hali and MacD don’t get back soon, you’re going to have to switch between observing the factory and firing the weapons.”

A bush rustled behind them, momentarily sending Linda’s heart rate into the stratosphere. She whipped around, bringing her assault rifle to bear.

“Our ears were burning,” MacD said. Hali was right behind him.

Linda lowered her weapon. “Did you get the package set?”

MacD took up position next to her with a Barrett .50 caliber sniper rifle. “We put it where no one will spot it even if they’re standing on it.”

“The tracker is activated,” Hali said as he lay down. “The Chairman shouldn’t have any trouble finding it.”

“From down there,” MacD said, “this ridge looked almost like it did in Lutzen’s picture. Except for the whole clear-cutting thing.”

“Without any other fuel source, the residents have stripped the forests bare for firewood,” Linda said. “With few trees to hold the soil, the lake is filling up with silt and causing the dam to lose power.”

“Looks like they have plenty left over to light up that cement factory.”

“And power the neutrino telescope,” Eric added. He swept the area with the thermal scope. “I’m picking up excessive heat signatures pluming off that building next to the dome.”

Linda raised the binoculars and saw what he was talking about. In the growing light, she could see crude vents cut out of the roof.

“That must be where the diesel backups are. They wouldn’t be depending solely on the power from the dam, not when it’s so spotty. According to the CIA, the turbines can go down for hours at a time.”

“So that’s target number two?” Hali asked.

“Yes.” Linda looked at her watch. Seven a.m. on the dot.

She lifted the radio to her mouth. “Dragonfly, this is Groundhog. What’s your position?”

“Dragonfly here, Groundhog,” came the Chairman’s reply over the sound of the MD 520N’s pounding rotors. “We are right on schedule. The mission is a go.”

“Copy that, Dragonfly. The package has been delivered.”

“Understood. If you haven’t heard from us in forty minutes after landing, abort the mission.”

Not only was that a lot of time to keep Bazin and his mercenaries occupied but the Chairman’s margin of error for his part of the mission was razor thin. Linda glanced at her team. MacD actually shook his head. She shared the sentiment, but she was also an officer. “Acknowledged, Dragonfly.” It was bad luck in the Corporation to wish someone good luck, so Linda signed off by saying, “Happy hunting. Out.”

“Okay, Eric,” she said, “start the fireworks.”

He nodded to Hali, who had his own control pad and screen at the ready. Eric pushed the stick forward and the camera showing the view from the front of the PIG slewed around until it was aimed dead center at one of the power line poles.

“Fire one,” Hali said, and tapped on the control pad.

A rocket shot out from the PIG’s launcher and blew the pole apart. The lines came down in a shower of sparks. The boom followed a few seconds later.

“And the light switch turns off,” Hali said.

Linda trained the binoculars on the cement plant. The lights flickered off for a moment and then came back on. The few mercenaries who were visible milled around in confusion.

“Proceed to next target,” Linda said.

Eric jammed the stick forward and the PIG’s 800 horses propelled the truck at breakneck speed. Linda shifted her view to the road and spotted the PIG emerging from behind the hill.

“I’ve got target lock,” Hali said.

“Fire,” Linda ordered.

Two mortars were fired up through the PIG’s roof opening. They flew in an invisible arc until they came down on the building housing the diesel generators. The fuel tanks must have been inside the building as well because the initial blast of the mortars was dwarfed by the explosion that followed.

The lights went out for good.

Mercenaries were racing in all directions looking for their attackers. It didn’t even look like controlled chaos. Just chaos.

As the fire raged, Linda could make out the approaching throb of helicopter blades. The MD 520N swooped along the lake just above the surface.

When it was a few hundred yards from its landing spot, Linda said, “Launch at target three.”

“Switching to smoke,” Hali replied as his fingers danced across the control pad. “Firing.”

Three more mortars thumped from the launcher, this time flying next to the plant to land on the side closest to the lake. They landed right on target and began pumping out dense white smoke.

Linda was impressed. Despite being put together using code on the fly, the mission actually seemed to be going according to plan. They had provided the perfect distraction, and now Bazin’s men would retreat to a defensive posture, waiting for an attack that wouldn’t be coming.

She switched her view back to the cement plant, where movement at one of the buildings caught her eye. When she saw what emerged from inside, she knew the mission was not going to continue as pla

She quickly spoke into the radio. “Be advised, Dragonfly, Bazin’s got infantry-fighting vehicles and they’re armed with twenty-millimeter ca

“Thanks for the update, Groundhog. Now tell us the bad news.”

“One of them is headed your way.”

—

Cans of Red Bull were scattered at Kensit’s feet, and the only time he’d gotten up from his seat in the last twenty hours was to open the door when one of Bazin’s men, who served as the yacht’s crew, brought him his next meal. Luckily, he had plenty of empty water bottles to make trips to the head u

The drone jets had already taken off from Tyndall Air Force Base in Florida and were winging across the Everglades, six unma