Predator One (31 page)

Davidovich was listening. There was even a trace of a nod once or twice.

Pharos remained in a squat, positioned so that Davidovich
was higher than him, ceding the nominal power within their shared envelope of confidence. It was a very useful trick. That and making statements laced with truisims tailored to encourage Davidovich to agree. It trained the scientist like a dog to agree and to feel powerful, moment by moment, because of those agreements.

“I did not set out to become a criminal, doctor,” said Pharos. “Truly I did
not. Even now I don’t think of myself in that way. I don’t look into my shaving mirror and say, ‘You’re evil.’ Who does? A madman, perhaps? Or someone in a movie? No, what I see when I look in the mirror every single day and night is a man who has come to understand the way in which the world works, the structures that underpin what we call society, and the true meaning of our existence here. I
know for a fact, from your reports, from what Boy has told me, from what you’ve done for us, that you see the same things when you look at yourself. You do not see a weak man. You certainly don’t see a failure. What you see, Doctor Davidovich, is a man who has awakened into the reality of this world. A man who has studied the systems, the blueprints, the schematics of society and decided that he
would rather be a master of this game than merely a factor. You are not a subroutine of someone else’s game, Doctor. You are the game. You see that in the mirror. You look at that face, into these eyes, and you know the secret to winning this game. Because, oh yes, men like us have in fact discovered that secret. We know it and we act upon it. That secret, doctor, is power.”

Davidovich probably
did not know he nodded. But he did.

“Power is what it’s all about. Money, of course, is the fuel that runs the great generator of power. Money protects us, it empowers us, it provides for us and those we love. Money is also the great truth serum. It opens hearts and minds. They say that everyone has a price. They do, that’s an old, old truth. If they have that price, then the so-called values
and morals that they claim to prize are meaningless. If morality was a genuine and powerful thing, then there would be no price at all to make men turn away from it. And yet every man and woman knows that they would if the price was high enough. I did. Boy did. The Seven Kings did. Everyone who works for us and with us did. Just as you did, doctor, when you realized that you were not a captive …
no, hardly that. You realized that your brain, your talents, your insight were all demonstrations of the vast power waiting within you.”

Pharos touched Davidovich on the chest and then on the forehead.

“In here and in here. So much power,” said Pharos, shaking his head as if in wonder. “So much more than anyone else you’ve ever met. Until now. Until you met my daughter, Boy. Until you came here
to this island. Until you met the Gentleman and met me. And what does that tell you? What does it say that you are here with us? With us, you understand? Not a prisoner. Not some lackey. You are here, at this time, in this place, at this moment, with us. With the last of the Seven Kings and with the man who runs their entire operation. Two giants. And you … a giant as well. A towering intellect.
A person who should not ever allow his genius to be contained or marginalized by lesser, jealous, weaker people.”

Davidovich was listening. And panting. His eyes were fever bright.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” said Pharos. “Tell me I’m wrong about you.”

Davidovich said nothing, but his lips were wet and parted.

“Tell me that you’re a small man, a lesser man, a weak man. Tell me that you’re incapable
of embracing power. Tell me that you are unwilling to taste it. Tell me that you are not a giant. A legend.” Pharos bent closer. “A King.”

Davidovich’s fists were clutched into white-knuckled hammers on his lap. His mouth worked and worked and finally spoke a single word.

Pharos loved that word.

It was the only word he could hear, the only word he wanted to hear, the only word that he would
allow. And so, to his ears and to the Gentleman’s, it was a word of beauty.

“Yes,” said Davidovich.

Chapter Sixty-six

10300 White Palm Way

Fort Myers, Florida

March 30, 6:47
P.M.

DeNeille Taylor-Williams was on her exercise bike but her mind was racing far away from her house in Fort Meyers.

The bike, like the other gym equipment, the big-screen TV, and the whole house, was a gift from her son, Jerome. Known as Bug to her and everyone. He’d moved her out of the small house in which she’d
raised Bug, asked her where she wanted to live, and then handled all the arrangements to move her to Florida. Bug’s stepfather, Terrence, had moved down here with her, though his health was bad and the good Lord took him last summer. DeNeille had grieved for him, but there were so many widows here in Fort Myers that she had a flock around her nearly all the time.

Bug, though, was rarely with
her, and she missed him. Her son worked for the government doing something important and secret with computers. She didn’t know what it was, but the government must pay him very well. DeNeille never had to pay a bill, and Bug’s sisters were working on their advanced degrees on scholarships she was certain Bug had arranged.

The house, though, was quiet. DeNeille missed her husband, missed her
daughters, missed her son.

As she pedaled the recumbent bike, she watched the travel channel and thought about where she would like to go. She’d never traveled with Terrence. He’d been a hardworking man who ran a dry-cleaning store, but right around the time he’d begun talking about retiring and going overseas with her, or on a cruise, the cancer had taken him. So fast. Too fast. The chemicals
from the dry-cleaning. In May of last year, he was a two-hundred-pound man. Tall and proud. In August he was a stick figure who didn’t even know her name. Now his ashes floated on the waves, and DeNeille was alone with memories, money, and an empty house.

The show currently running was about the Viking Cruises. There was a woman at the hair dresser who’d been talking about taking one. Another
widow. What would she think about taking a cruise together?

That’s when DeNeille heard glass break in the other room.

You get so you know what something is from the way it breaks. A falling vase sounds different from window glass.

This was a window.

She got off the bike and listened, but she did not immediately run into the other room. She’d spent too much of her life in neighborhoods where
drive-by shootings were a fact of life. Her hand strayed to the locket she always wore. It was an Eye of Horus that Bug had given her a few years ago. Very pretty, very expensive, and very deceptive. The central jewel was actually a button. Like one of those “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” devices, except this sent a signal to the people Bug worked for. He told her that it was a standard security
precaution, though DeNeille knew plenty of other people who were family to government employees. None of them had something like that. Normally she scoffed at it even while making sure to wear it, but now … Her fingers closed around the pendant.

There was no sound now. No sound of gunshots. None of the shouts or laughter of gangbangers. Nothing.

She relaxed only a little bit.

What was it, she
wondered. Had a bird hit the window? There were certainly no street gangs here in Fort Myers. No one who would throw a rock.

The gym was in the back of the house in a big Florida room that looked out over a large garden of palms, ferns, and succulents. This noise had found her all the way down the hallway. It sounded to her like it had come from the living room?

“Come on, woman,” she murmured
aloud.

She nodded to herself and hurried along the hall, past open and empty bedrooms filled with boxes she had never bothered to unpack. She saw the glass glittering on the carpet before she’d even reached the living room.

She felt the fresh breeze from outside.

The window, for sure.

DeNeille came quickly into the room and saw that the big picture window was gone. Pieces of glass covered
her couch, the coffee table, the rug, the side tables. It was everywhere. Only pieces stuck out of the frame like jagged teeth.

“Oh God…”

She did not enter the room any further, fearful of the glass. It was going to be a hell of a job cleaning it all up. Especially little splinters in the fabric of the sofa.

Thoughts of what to do and why it happened suddenly stalled as she saw something lying
on the floor across the living room, jammed up against the TV cabinet. At first she thought it was a toy of some kind. A kid’s remote-controlled airplane. That’s what it looked like. She glanced out the window, looking for the kid who owned it. The kid whom she would be dragging to his parents in about five minutes.

The street was empty.

No kids.

“Ran away, the little bastard,” she concluded.

DeNeille stood there, angry and indecisive. Her hand fell away from the Eye of Horus. She didn’t call for help. She didn’t call Bug to tell him about this. It could wait until some other time. Her son worked for the government, and there was so much going on right now. That horrible thing in Philadelphia yesterday. More terrorists. She shook her head.

No, there was no need to tell Bug about this.

Except …

The news stories said something about the bombs yesterday being inside little machines. Like birds. Pigeon drones. That’s what Anderson Cooper called them.

This wasn’t one of those.

This was a little airplane.

But … even so.

She stood there, confused, trying to decide whether to worry or simply start looking for some kid in the neighborhood.

DeNeille Taylor-Williams was still fretting
about it when the crumpled little airplane exploded.

Chapter Sixty-seven

Thomas Jefferson University Hospital

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

March 30, 6:55
P.M.

I got out of bed and began pulling on clothes. The only thing available was a set of scrubs, so I put those on. I could change later.

“I think I should head out to San Diego,” I said. “Two attacks out there, and Nicodemus is on the loose. I want to bag him and have a meaningful chat.
Unless, of course, you think I’d be more useful at the ballpark?”

“No. That part’s over. Jerry Spencer and his team are doing good work. I’d rather you followed your instincts and went to California.”

I nodded and pulled on the cheap hospital slippers.

Church said, “Not sure if you caught Bug’s passing reference to the QF-16 program.”

“Didn’t want to interrupt him at the time. What is it?”

“The air force has been experimenting with AI and various software and hardware upgrades to retrofit decommissioned F-16s and turn them into drones.”

I stared at him.

“The initial idea was to have them remote-piloted so that more advanced fighters could practice aerial maneuvers against real aircraft. That part’s a good idea. The part we don’t like is that there is a deeper level to the project
involving armed-combat fighter drones.”

“Armed but remote-piloted, right? I mean, they wouldn’t be that stupid…”

Church’s wordless look was enough.

“I hate this job,” I said. “What do we do about that?”

“There’s a unit testing them down at Eglin in Florida. Sending Top and Bunny down there to observe the test. They’re both sharp. If they see anything amiss, we need to know about it immediately.”

“You think the Kings would try and hijack some drones while every eye is on them during a testing phase?”

“These drones have the full Regis package.” He stopped me before I could say anything. “I’m not saying Regis is corrupt. So far, we don’t have any genuine proof of that. However, Regis is becoming a common factor. Due diligence and common sense require that we have eyes on this.”

I didn’t
like it, but I made the call. Top and Bunny didn’t like it either. They were downstairs, and we’d all go the airport together.

Church nodded gravely. “I’m going to Brooklyn. Then, depending on how things go, I’ll meet you in San Diego.”

“Who’s running the Hangar?”

“I pulled Juan Esposito from Boston.”

I nodded. Juan was a good guy who ran three teams out of Beantown. Former Army Intelligence.
Very solid.

Church started to go, but I touched him on the arm.

“Church,” I said, “I know the world’s on fire, but take a moment. If Rudy was here, he’d tell you to—”

“Let me head you off at the pass, Captain. I am well aware that all of this puts a great deal of stress on me. I know that there is a danger of my judgment and clarity of mind being compromised by what’s happened to Circe and
Aunt Sallie. This is not my first rodeo. This is hardly the first time I’ve had to deal with personal issues while still working a case. It would be nice to say that I am inexperienced at this sort of thing, but we both know that’s not the case.”

“Okay, so you got that part. Rudy would approve. But here’s the other thing. Circe is down, Rudy is down, Aunt Sallie is down. I was down for a day.
This is more than a matter of us having to function under stress. I think that is part of the point. We know how devious the Seven Kings are. I see all this stuff happening, and I have to look at the timing. It’s more than a series of punches. They know we can take punches. Who better? No, this is like dodging punches while somebody is throwing firecrackers into the ring. It’s shock an awe.”

Church went over and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You think this is more than an attack on us?”

“I damn well do. Everything we know about the Kings’ MO is that they always have a hidden agenda. They love misdirection. They love coercion, and even though they aren’t strapping us to chairs with electrodes on our nuts, this is coercion. They’re hurting us by hurting the people we care about,
and they know it has to have an impact.”

“Get to your point,” he said. “You’re drifting.”