Unmanned (9780385351263) (28 page)

“Jeebus,” Zach whispered.

“Creepy, isn’t it.”

“What’s that, Redbird? I don’t copy.”

“Just kids, Gray Goose, and they’re moving off. You fellas can stand down.”

Now he saw the goats emerging from the woods, just ahead of the children.

“Looks like they’re taking some animals home for the night. Out kinda late, but nobody’s armed.”

“Glad to hear it, guys. Keep me posted.”

Zach spoke up, off mike.

“Should I move on?”

“What?”

“Back to our stakeout disposition?”

“In a minute.”

Cole wanted a better look at the children, some sign of recognition that they really were flesh and blood. Or was he hoping against hope that they would be the trio from Sandar Khosh, miraculously resurrected in a far valley, miles from home? Who was watching out for them? he wondered. Who would protect them from land mines and ambush at this advanced hour? Where were their parents, their elders?

Zach obliged his whim. Or maybe he, too, was in the same frame of mind. It was a distraction, no doubt, but after nine hours in the saddle at the end of a long and terrible week, they’d earned the indulgence.

Gray Goose shouted into his headset.

“Gunfire! We got gunfire, Redbird! Where the hell are you?”

Shit!

“Looking for your bogeys, Gray Goose. What’s the vector on that firing?”

“What the fuck?” Zach asked frantically. “I can’t find ’em!”

The camera moved jerkily, too fast. In panning back toward the unit
Zach overshot the position and was having to adjust, all while battling against the usual two-second delay.

“Calm down, Zach. Scan her slowly.” Now Cole could hear the gunfire, probably on the pickup from Gray Goose’s headset.

“Have you got that directional yet, Gray Goose?” He hoped to hell no one had been hit. “You there?”

“Sorry, Redbird. Just taking cover. It’s coming out of the west. Where the fuck were you?”

Cole felt his face redden, but he responded calmly.

“Got distracted, Gray Goose. My bad, but the cavalry is here.”

“Got ’em!” Zach announced.

“We have your bogeys in sight, Gray Goose. Four figures, still on the move but maybe two hundred yards west-northwest of your position.” The attackers were crouched, so their shapes were barely human. “They’re out of the trees. No cover, far as I can tell.”

He heard more shots on his headset. The muzzles flashed bright white on the infrared.

“So you’ve got a fix?”

“Affirmative, locked in. What’s your pleasure, Gray Goose?”

“Throw down the God light.”

“Consider it done.”

He nodded to Zach, who made the necessary command to activate the infrared beam. Two seconds later the four crouching figures were lit up like dancers on a spotlit stage, even though to their own eyes they were still cloaked in darkness. On the ops unit’s night vision goggles, the attackers would now be easy targets.

Zach panned back for a wider field of vision. A stream of gunfire poured out from the ops unit, blazing across the screen. Cole heard shouting in his headset, and the sharp report of the weapons. Someone in the ops unit shouted in Pashto, probably telling the attackers to surrender. Three of the four were already hit, and two of those were deathly still. The fourth stood straight up and dropped his weapon, hands in the air. Three Americans surged forward. It was over within seconds.

Cole wondered if the gunfire had alerted the hideout to what was coming. He doubted it. The hut was over a small rise, and the sound of gunfire was hardly uncommon in this part of the world. Zach checked
the house, just in case, but there was no sign of new activity. The windows were still lit, and the heat signature of smoke pouring from the chimney glowed on the screen.

But Cole was shaken. His hands trembled. If the attackers had been more patient and a little smarter, they might have killed several of the Americans before Zach and he even knew what was up. They had failed. Check that
—he
had failed, needlessly preoccupied with the three children as they followed goats down a mountain path.

“You okay, man?” Zach asked, off mike.

“Not really. You?”

“That whole thing with the kids gave me the heebie-jeebies. They even glowed funny on the IR.”

And for whatever amalgamation of reasons, that mission had proven to be Cole’s tipping point. A haunting vision, followed by an error in judgment. Plenty of other pilots had endured far more harrowing moments and had emerged emotionally unscathed, or so it seemed. But Cole had collapsed. Crumpled. He hadn’t been up to the challenge.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Keira said, bringing him back to the present. God knows what he must have been mumbling.

“Maybe.”

“Besides. It was the whole week that got to you. The children who died. That would get to anyone.”

“I guess. Wade Castle’s mission. And that guy Lancer, whoever he was.”

Then Cole’s memory seized on another moment from that final mission. Had he dreamed it tonight, or had it really taken place? It was real. He recalled it clearly now, a brief exchange of chat dialogue long after the firefight occurred.

“What is it?” Keira asked. “What did you just think of?”

“That call name. Lancer. He turned up on the recon, too. Later, right after the raid. He had some questions or something for one of the ops commanders.”

“What kind of questions?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember. But I know his name came up, in the chat. And it wasn’t the CO he was talking to. It was the second in command. It was kind of hinky, really. I remember feeling that even then.”

“How so?”

“The way the ops guy talked. The language he used when he spoke with me by radio. The second in command, I mean. It was enough to make me wonder if these guys were some kind of hybrid unit. Maybe with an Agency component, or even privateers. Like the stuff Bickell was talking about. I guess I’d blotted all of this out.”

He wondered if flying those toy drones this afternoon had stirred up these memories. Watching the images on the goggles had been a little bit like being back in the trailer, sitting in front of the pile of video screens with a stick and rudder at his side.

“You should sleep now. This is wearing you out.”

He said nothing. He tried to remember more about that day, the dialogue, the players. Then Keira moved suddenly on the bed, startling the cat.

“Shit!” she said.

“What?”

“The house. Look out the window.”

Lights were on.

“Barb’s room. Downstairs, too. Fuck. And I left my door open, so she’ll know I’m gone. I should go now.”

“Take Cheryl with you, show her the bandages. Maybe then she’ll—”

“She’ll know. She always knows.”

“Then we’ll just have to live with it.”

“Yeah. We will.” She kissed him, but in a hurry, like a wife trying to get out the door for work. Then she pulled on her robe, belting it as she eased toward the door.

“See you at breakfast?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure. Might as well take the heat with you.”

She smiled and shut the door behind her, leaving Cole alone and uncertain, already wondering what to make of the whole episode. Across the room, the cat yowled, a low strange cry that was almost a growl, and when Cole turned he saw Cheryl arching her back like some Halloween cutout. Eerie.

“Wrong holiday, girl. You’re supposed to know it’s almost Christmas.”

Then he checked the time, which threw him further off balance.

It was exactly 3:50 a.m.

ANY CHANCES FOR
an awkward scene at the breakfast table evaporated with the sudden arrival of Nelson Hayley Sharpe, who awakened the entire household at first light by knocking loudly at the door.

Cole, hearing the commotion from the pool house, threw on some clothes just in time to witness the initial exchange of pleasantries.

“Who the fuck are you?” a bleary-eyed Steve asked from the open doorway.

“Nelson Hayley Sharpe, and I’m here to save your bacon.”

Steve seemed on the verge of either laughing or hitting him, then opted to simply shake his head and step back, gesturing like a doorman for Sharpe to enter. Cole got there before the door closed behind him, and Steve gave him a wry look.

“Get a handle on this guy before I wring his neck, how ’bout it. And maybe make some coffee while you’re at it.” Then a slight pause, followed by: “Lover boy.” He didn’t say it whimsically.

Barb was already up. Keira was presumably still in bed. Cole could hardly believe that she’d been in his own bed the night before. Now he wished he’d showered. His scent alone was probably damning. He slunk off toward the kitchen to brew a pot, deciding he’d better just follow orders for a while. Wait for the storm to pass. Same way they handled these things in the Air Force. He heard Sharpe’s voice over the gurgle of the water as it filled the pot.

“If you’ll lend me a hand, I’ll start unloading my gear.”

“Gear?” Steve said. “Who says you’re staying?”

“You’ll be saying it once you’ve seen what I’ve got to offer.”

“Does Cole know you were planning this?”

“I asked him to let me reveal it. He’ll assist me. We need a third pair of hands for the setup, but first I’ll need a look at the lay of the land.”

Cole heard the door slam just as the pot finished brewing. He carried full mugs out to the living room to Steve and Barb, who were still marveling at Sharpe’s little floor show.

“What the hell’s he up to?” Steve asked.

“Did you just invite him down here without asking?” Barb asked. “Tell him he could do whatever he wants?”

“You should’ve at least cleared it with Keira,” Steve said. “Or maybe you did. Not that she’d say no to you.”

“And why would I want to?”

Keira, coming down the stairs. Same sweet tone as ever, but a set expression on her face. She was showered and fresh, which made Cole feel even staler and crustier.

“I need coffee,” Cole said. “Then I’ll go see what he’s up to.”

He retreated to the kitchen. He considered pouring a mug for Keira, then decided he didn’t want everyone watching him hand it to her. Their voices were rising in anger as he returned. Fine. Let them tear each other to shreds. It was Keira’s house. If she wanted Sharpe gone, then Cole would ask him to leave, but only then. At this hour of the day he had no stomach for the sniping, the jealousy, so he headed straight outdoors, away from Sharpe and toward the water.

Steve surprised him by joining him a minute or so later. They gazed out at the Bay for a few seconds. The sun was just coming up. They walked around to the sheltered side of the house without speaking a word, and spotted Sharpe a few hundred yards up the driveway. He was down on one knee at the edge of the cornfield. He stood and looked up at the sky, moving his hands as if plotting vectors and angles, an engineer with some grand calculation playing out in his head.

“He’s a piece of work,” Steve said.

“He’s that.”

“Any idea what he’s up to?”

“I’ll let him explain. He’s right, though. You’ll like it.”

A pause. A swallow of coffee. Then, without turning to face him, Steve said, “About Keira and you. I’m not going to judge. Hell, I’d have probably done the same thing, given the opportunity. But I won’t
let you fuck up this arrangement. We’ve been working together for months, a nice balance among the three of us. If you start wrecking things then you’re gone.”

“It’s her house. Maybe she can decide what works and what doesn’t.”

Steve exhaled through his nostrils, blowing steam into the cold like a cartoon bull.

“Fine. Explain that to Barb while you’re at it. She’s already worried enough about Keira’s loyalty and motivations.” Steve turned toward Sharpe. “I’m gonna go see what this wild-ass is up to. Look at him. Like he owns the place.”

Cole held his tongue. Most of the man’s anger was probably envy, a guy thing. Barb, on the other hand—well, maybe she was just in the habit of begrudging other people’s happiness. Cole sipped his coffee, letting the caffeine kick him up a notch as he braced against the morning chill. The air smelled good. So did the pines, swaying in the fresh breeze off the water.

It looked like Steve was asking questions. Sharpe seemed to be responding with reasonable civility. Based on their body language—upright, face-to-face, maybe five yards apart, arms akimbo—they were feeling each other out. Cole walked out to see what was up, arriving within earshot just as things began to heat up.

“You’re going to build a fucking drone? Here?”

“For the use and benefit of your reporting. And it’s already built. Fully engineered. Some assembly is required, that’s all. Like your dad on Christmas morning, batteries not included. A few hours of careful labor, most of it mine, and it will be operational.”

“And if we don’t particularly want a drone, or have any need for one?”

“That’s a discussion that should wait until you’ve seen its capabilities. Captain Cole will help me demonstrate. If a greater ability to gather information isn’t to your liking, then I’ll pack up and go. But until then …” He shrugged and tilted his head, a magician waiting for his audience to give the go-ahead for the next bag of tricks.

“Is this how you always operate? Just show up with your stuff and expect everybody to go along with it?”

“I’m not orthodox, Mr. Merritt.”

“Steve.”

“Steve, then. I can be a little gonzo. And I don’t like arguing if that means losing ground to an inferior position. I’m a stubborn man for good reason, namely, that I never fight for a point of view until I’m assured that I’m right. So if I say I’m going to do things a certain way, then you may register your dissent, but it won’t have the least bearing on my behavior. Understood?”

“Your way or the highway, in other words.”

“Those are the very words.”

“I see why they fired you.”

“No. You see why I quit. Too many years of bucking the idiocy of people on the take, of generals preoccupied with inflating their budgets, of so-called engineers too worried about how many bells and whistles they could cram into every single project until it was too fucked up to succeed for anyone except the contractors who built the bells and whistles. You’re no general, so if you fuck around with me then I’ll just go my own way. But I do know how to function as part of a team. We never could have accomplished what we did any other way. I was just fortunate enough to be surrounded, at least for a while, by the most competent people in the field.”