Текст книги "Raven Strike"

Автор книги: Dale Brown

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

Chapter 29

Ronald Reagan Airport

Washington, D.C.

Zen rolled his wheelchair forward as soon as he saw Breanna walking toward the baggage area. It felt good to see her—all these years, and there was still a twinge of excitement after a long separation.

“Hey, if it isn’t the lonesome traveler,” he said loudly, getting her attention despite the crowd.

“Zen—what are you doing here?”

“I was looking for somebody to have a scandalous affair with.”

“Tired of being a senator?” She leaned down and kissed him.

“Actually, I think it would help my career.”

“Teri?” she said, asking about their daughter.

“I sold her to the nuns.”

“Stop,” she said, swatting at him playfully.

“Misses her mother terribly. I guess my cooking just isn’t good enough for her.”

“I’ll bet. And how are you?”

“Trying to duck the latest tempest in a teapot—there’s your bag.”

Breanna grabbed it off the carousel, and with a well-practiced flick of her wrist, extended the handle.

“Jay’s in a no-parking zone out front,” said Zen, spinning around to lead the way.

“Just because you have government plates doesn’t mean you can park where you like,” scolded Breanna playfully.

“Sure it does.”

She laughed. “So what controversy are you ducking?”

“Some big blowup about a CIA program. Something called Raven. Ernst has a bug up his ass about it.”

Breanna was silent. Zen glanced up at her. Her face had suddenly gone white.

“Bree?”

“Where did you park?”

“Is there something I should know about?” said Zen. “Do you have something to do with Raven?”

“Why?”

Crap, he thought. Breanna had to be the worst liar in the world.

“Bree—”

“Maybe I’ll grab a cab and head straight for the office,” said his wife.

“Whoa, hold on.” He grabbed the bag handle—it was the only thing he could reach as she started to pull away. “Truce, OK? No work discussion. None.”

“I have to get to the office.”

“We’ll drop you off.”

“That might not look right.”

“Breanna, what’s going on?”

They were stopped right in front of the doors. People swerved around them, a little more indulgent than they might have been as one of the obstacles was in a wheelchair.

“Jeff, I can’t discuss it. You know.”

“Come here,” he told her, motioning with his head to the side. “Come on.”

She went over, clearly reluctant.

“Listen,” he started, “just to fill you in—Ernst has heard all sorts of rumors about this CIA program. Supposedly it’s some sort of unauthorized assassination deal. You know Ernst, you give him a whiff of something to bash Ol’ Battle-axe with and he’s off to the races.”

Ol’ Battle-axe was one of Zen’s nicknames for the President. It was considerably more benign than many of his others.

“If you’re involved in this,” he added, “you really oughta tell me.”

“Raven is not an Office of Special Technology project.”

“You’re lawyering up.”

“Jeff—don’t push me.”

Zen put his elbow on the chair rail and leaned his forehead down. When he had urged her to take her job—and he had urged her—he promised they would keep their private lives separate.

It was the sort of promise that always came back to kick him in the butt, time after time.

“I’m not going to push you,” he said. “Let’s grab something to eat. Just you and me.”

“I have to get back to the office,” she said, pushing away.

“I’m glad you’re back!” he said as she went off.

The sentiment was sincere, but so were the curses under his breath as he wheeled around and headed for his van.

Chapter 30

Duka

There were no parallel roads to the highway leading out of town, and the hills would make it hard to flank the house quickly. Danny decided it would be best to race past the house to the south where some of the brothers were and go directly to Li Han’s. MY-PID would track Li Han if he escaped; his lack of a vehicle meant he couldn’t get very far.

There was gunfire from the lower house as they passed, but neither of the trucks was struck. Two troopers jumped from the back as they passed, securing the road in case the men there decided to interfere. The rest of the team sped on to the target.

By now Danny had a bad feeling about the house and Li Han. MY-PID was powerful but not infallible. He hypothesized that there might be a tunnel deep enough and long enough for the bastard to have escaped.

No one fired as they pulled up and surrounded the place. They blew out the front door and went in with flash-bangs and guns ready.

Li Han was lying exactly in the middle of the floor, dead. The flight computer and missing circuitry for the Raven was nowhere to be found.

“Looks like somebody did your work for you,” Danny told Melissa when she rushed in.

Blowback

Chapter 1

Room 4, CIA Campus

Breanna arrived at Room 4 just in time for the tail end of Danny’s update. He was speaking from inside a truck as he drove to the Osprey; his face, projected by a camera embedded in his helmet, looked worn. His voice was hoarse. The fighting in the city had died down, even the victors decimated and exhausted.

“I never asked MY-PID to analyze whether Li Han was dead or not,” Danny said. “The computer just responded to my questions. I should have.”

“Would it have changed anything, Danny?” asked Breanna. “If you knew he was dead earlier?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

They hadn’t seen him killed, and the slow loss of temperature over time was hard to detect through the thick thatch of the roof. But Breanna knew that Danny would in fact blame himself for missing what he considered a key piece of information.

“That may be one area to improve MY-PID’s programming,” she said. “Having some sort of prompt if a subject is dead or wounded.”

“Yeah.”

“How bad is the damage to the aircraft?” Breanna asked. “Can you evacuate?”

“The backup Osprey just refueled in Ethiopia and is en route,” said Danny. “The crew says they can get Whiplash One airborne if necessary. They’ve been talking to Chief Parsons.”

“Good,” said Breanna. Parsons, a former maintainer and chief master sergeant at Dreamland, was her personal assistant, a troubleshooter for all things mechanical.

Danny believed that they had enough weapons and ammunition to hold off anything the locals could throw at them over the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, which would give them more than ample time to figure out what to do about the damaged MV-22.

The real problem was finding Raven’s guidance system. While they had to recheck all the places they had raided and get the Russian, Danny believed that the most promising theory was that one of Li Han’s guards had taken it. That would explain why he had been shot.

“If it is in the Brothers camp, can you get in there and search?”

“I need to study the place,” said Danny. “We won’t be able to just go up and knock on the door.”

They spent a few minutes discussing logistical matters, Breanna making sure they were well supplied. If they did hit the camp, Danny wanted some equipment from the States as well as more personnel.

“All right. Get some sleep,” she told him when they were ready to sign off.

“When I get a chance,” said Danny. He tried to smile, but it only made him look more tired.

“I felt I had to inform the President,” Reid told Breanna. “There was no other choice.”

“I know.”

“The rumors may have come from her staff, but more likely they came from the Agency.”

“Why would Edmund leak it?”

“I doubt it was him. Not everyone in the organization appreciates his leadership.” Reid paused. Anyone in a position of authority anywhere in government had many enemies. “He hasn’t been particularly forthcoming with me.”

Reid reiterated what Rubeo had told him, and what he had heard about the software. But the lack of information from Edmund was frustrating; he simply didn’t know how dangerous Raven was.

“In theory,” he told Breanna, “Rubeo believes it could take over any sort of computing device, adapting and changing itself to fit the medium. But how far along they are in actual fact and practice, I simply don’t know.”

Breanna pushed the hair at the side of her head back, running her fingers across her ear. The gesture reminded Reid of his wife when she was younger.

“Did you tell Danny this?” she asked.

“I haven’t shared Dr. Rubeo’s assessment, no. There’s no need, operationally. Clearly, he knows it’s not just a board of transistors, based on our concern. I don’t know how much the CIA officer on the ground has told him. Or what she even knows, for that matter.”

“Could she be in the dark as well?” Breanna asked.

“Hard to say.”

“Why in God’s name—”

“They probably felt that, because it was Africa, there was no risk. That would be a common perception.”

“Misperception,” said Breanna.

“Yes.”

The Agency was famous for such misperceptions, thought Reid—always underestimating the enemy. That was the cause of most intelligence failures, wasn’t it? Lack of imagination, lack of crediting the enemy with as much if not more foresight than you had? That was the story of Pearl Harbor, of the Russian H-bomb, of 9/11—of failure after failure, and not just by the U.S.

“The political controversy adds another dimension,” continued Reid. “They have even more incentive to clam up. I wouldn’t be surprised if they thought we leaked it.”

Breanna frowned.

“It’s going to cause trouble with your husband,” added Reid. “I’m sorry for that.”

“We’ll deal with it.” Breanna straightened and rose from the table. “Which one of us will tell the President that we have the UAV but not the computer?”

“I think we should both make the call.”

Chapter 2

Duka

In the end, it was momentum rather than logic or threats that got the women moving—Nuri and Boston pulled each to their feet and nudged them in the right direction, simply refusing to take no or inaction as an answer. They shuffled rather than walked, but it was progress nonetheless. Nuri took the infant from Bloom, hunching his body over it to keep it warm. It was sleeping, its thumb in its mouth.

Boston led the way around the outskirts of the woods, hiking toward the north-south highway that ran through the city to the south. There was still a glow from the center of town; the air smelled of burnt wood and grass. Sudan First appeared to have wiped out Meurtre Musique, but the rebels had lost so many people that in all likelihood the city would eventually be abandoned.

They were just in sight of the picket Danny had set up around the fallen plane when the backup Osprey arrived. It came in from the north, having taken a wide circle around the city to avoid any possible enemies. The aircraft swung down to the ground ahead, barely a shadow in the night.

“Why’d you bring the women?” asked Danny as the small group staggered into the makeshift camp.

“I didn’t know what else to do with them,” said Nuri.

“They can’t stay with us.”

“I know, but we can get them to a refugee camp or something.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.” Nuri turned to find Bloom. She was walking with the woman who’d given birth, moving mechanically.

“We’re going to take you to a camp,” he said. “Where would be the best place?”

Instead of answering, Bloom reached her hands out to take the baby.

“A camp,” said Nuri, reluctantly turning him over. “Where would the best one be?”

“Maybe you should ask which is the least worst,” said Melissa. “I’ll talk to her.”

“It’s all right. I have it under control,” said Nuri.

“She’s not talking to you.”

“She’s not going to talk to you either.”

But Bloom did, haltingly and in a faraway voice. She suggested a place called Camp Feroq, which was run by her relief organization a hundred miles southwest.

“I never heard of it,” said Nuri.

“I’m sure we can find it.”

Nuri found himself arguing against it, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. He told Melissa that they should be relocated somewhere nearby, which would make it possible for them to eventually return. Yet he knew that wasn’t logical at all.

“You just suggested they go to a camp themselves,” said Danny.

“Most of them are hellholes,” answered Nuri. But he knew Danny was right, and he let the matter drop.

As far as Danny was concerned, his mission was to retrieve every bit of the UAV, and so he wasn’t surprised that Reid and Breanna told him that the control unit had to be recovered. But the fact that Breanna was suggesting an attack into the Sudan Brotherhood camp put the matter into an entirely different category.

Before he dealt with that, he needed to finish the search and pick up the Russian.

Given the fact that Nuri could speak Russian, it made sense that he come on the mission, which would be launched from the backup Osprey. Melissa wanted to go as well. Danny told her flatly he didn’t want her help.

“I know what the flight computer looks like,” she argued. “You need somebody along who can identify it.”

“It’s a frickin’ computer,” snapped Nuri. “How hard is that to figure out?”

“The Osprey’s going to be pretty packed with the combat team,” said Danny diplomatically. “We have to make a couple of drops and then move in. It’s a coordination thing. Why don’t you watch after the women and help Boston make a plan to research the first building we hit and the area near it. This is just a pickup job. We’ve all practiced this a million times.”

She finally agreed. Aboard the aircraft, Nuri asked Danny why he was being so nice to her.

“I’m not being nice to her.”

“She’s been lying to us the whole time,” said Nuri, standing over him as the aircraft spun toward the hills.

“When has she lied?”

“She hasn’t told us the whole story,” said Nuri. “She’s trying to save her ass and take the credit for getting all the pieces back.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Don’t let these Agency types bulldoze you. They’re sweeter than crap to your face, then you find out they’ve been knifing you in the back.”

“Sometimes you act like you got a stick up your ass,” Danny told him. “Other times it’s a two by four.”

The pilot announced they were five minutes from the first insertion.

Exhausted, Kimko lay on the ground, halfway between sleep and consciousness. His mind threw thoughts out in odd patterns, numbers mixing with ideas, old memories filtering into what he saw around himself in the jungle.

Most of all he wanted vodka.

Kimko thought about letting go and falling asleep. But it would be the same as accepting failure, and that he could not do. So after a long time on the ground he took a deep, slow breath and struggled to his feet.

There were noises around him—wind rushing by. He turned quickly, sure he was being followed by some animal, but nothing appeared.

No, he was alone, very alone, lost in the middle of Africa and sure to die here, thirsty and tired, a spy, unknown and unloved.

His mind wandered even as he tried to focus on the jungle before him. He saw his ex-wife and spit at her.

He looked down at the ground, looking for the path.

When he looked up, a man in a black battle dress was standing before him.

Kimko turned. There were two more. He was surrounded.

Not by soldiers, by aliens.

A short, youthful man with wide shoulders appeared behind them. He spoke Russian. He was a human.

“Where is the control unit for the UAV?” asked the man. “The flight computer. What did you do with it?”

“What are you talking about?” asked Kimko.

The man raised his pistol and held it in his face.

“Tell me,” said the man.

Kimko jerked away, but one of the aliens grabbed him by the shoulder. The grip was intense. It drained all of his strength away.

“Where is the control unit?” demanded the short man, pointing the gun directly at his forehead.

“I have no idea—”

The gun went off. The bullet flew by his head.

Am I dead?

I’m dead.

No, no, it’s an old trick. Intimidation. I’ve done this myself. I’ve done this.

It’s a trick.

“You are coming with us,” said the man.

Was he dead? Had Girma the idiot shot him after all?

Kimko started to struggle. This was real, though it didn’t make any sense—he pushed and threw his fists.

“You’re not taking me alive!” he yelled.

But as the words escaped his mouth, he smelled something sweet in his nose. Something was poking his back, poking him in a million places.

Sleep, said a voice inside his brain. Sleep.

Milos Kimko collapsed to the ground, already starting to snore.

“Sounds like he’s got a breathing problem,” Danny said.

“He’s OK,” said Sugar, checking him over. “That Demerol will keep him out for a while.”

“Nolan, you and Shorty see if you can backtrack the trail he came up through. See if he threw anything away,” said Danny. MY-PID had already looked at the video feeds, but Danny wanted it checked anyway. “Work your way back to the city. We’ll hook up with you.”

The two men set out. The rest of the team fanned out nearby, checking to see if Kimko had hidden or dropped anything nearby.

“Searching’s a waste of time,” said Nuri. “He never got it. I’m beginning to think they never had a control unit in the first place.”

“They needed something to fly the plane,” said Danny.

“Maybe Melissa took it and she’s been lying all this time.”

“What do you have against her?”

“I told you, Danny, she’s a bad seed.”

Danny shook his head.

“I want to take him to Ethiopia and question him,” said Nuri.

“That’s fine.”

“We’ll know what he knows in a few hours. But best bet now is probably the Brother who killed Li Han. That’s who we need to find.”

Chapter 3

Jomo Kenyatta International Airport

Nairobi, Kenya

Amara took his shoes off and placed them in the plastic tub. He put his backpack into a second tub, then pushed them together toward the X-ray machine. He felt as if everyone in the airport was looking at him, though he knew that couldn’t be the case. He’d already gotten through two different security checks; this was the last before the gate.

With the tubs moving on the conveyor belt, Amara stepped over to the metal detector frame. A portly woman in a military-style uniform held out a blue-gloved hand to stop him from proceeding.

Heart racing, he saw the light on the nearby X-ray machine blinking red.

Don’t panic! Don’t run!

He looked back the officer. She was motioning him forward.

He stepped through, half expecting the alarm to sound, though he had no metal in his pockets, no explosives, no knives, no weapons. His clothes had been carefully laundered before he was driven to the airport.

Clear. He was clear. On his way to America.

He started to look for his shoes. But the woman with the blue gloves took hold of his arm.

“Sir, step this way,” said the woman in English.

Startled, Amara wasn’t sure what to say.

“Please,” she said, pointing to the side. “Step over there.”

Two other officers, both men, came over behind her. Amara stepped to the side, as she had asked. His throat started to constrict. He wasn’t afraid—he’d never been a coward—but it seemed unfair to be stopped so early in his mission.

“Please open your bag,” said an officer on the other side of the conveyor belt. He spoke English in an accent so thick and foreign that Amara had to puzzle out what he said, and only understood because he was pointing.

He tried to apologize for his hesitation. He’d been told repeatedly to be nice to the guards; it would make them much more cooperative. “I didn’t, uh—”

“Open the bag, sir.”

Amara reached to the zipper and pushed it down. He had only a shirt and a book here, as instructed.

“You have a laptop?” said the man.

God, the laptop. He’d forgotten to take it out of the compartment so they could look at it specially.

What a fool! The simplest thing! And now trapped!

“I do, oh I do, I forgot—” he said.

“Could you turn it on, please?” said the officer.

Amara pulled the laptop out and fumbled with it as he reached for the power button. In the meantime, another officer came up behind the first and whispered something in his ear, pointing behind them. They turned around to watch someone else in line.

The computer took forever to boot up. The screen blinked—the hard drive failed the self-test. He had to press F1 to proceed. He did so quickly; the computer proceeded with its start-up.

The security officer who’d had him take out the laptop called over to the woman with the gloves. Then he turned and went with the other man to check on the person he’d pointed out. Momentarily confused, Amara focused on the laptop, waiting patiently for its desktop to appear.

“What else do you have in the bag?” asked the woman officer.

“My shirt, my uh—some paper,” he said.

“In this compartment.” She reached in and pulled out the power cord and mouse.

“To make it work without the battery,” he said.

“Yes, yes, of course. Very good. You must remove laptops separately from now on.”

“I’m sorry. I—I forgot.”

“Go. You may go.”

Amara hastily put everything back in the bag, then went to find his shoes.

He was through. Next stop, America.