Unmanned (9780385351263) (29 page)

Steve smiled, seemingly impressed, if only by Sharpe’s chutzpah. He waved toward the stubbly cornfield.

“Have at it, then.” He passed Cole on his way back to the house, “Quite a colony of eccentrics we’re building here.”

He had that right. Cole kept walking, out to where Sharpe had dropped back down to his hands and knees. Sharpe dug a hand into the frosty soil at the edge of the driveway and crumbled the earth in his fingers. He nodded approvingly.

“With a little raking it should be fine.”

“As a runway?”

“Yes.” Sharpe stood and wiped the dirt from his hands. “Who knows you’re out here, besides the three of them?”

“Some of their colleagues and friends, maybe. Keira’s parents. But they’re in Europe or something.”

“Then I hope your pals won’t mind if I crash here while I get everything up and running.”

“They might. But the final say will be up to Keira.”

He looked closely at Cole, studying his face.

“Fucking her?”

Cole flushed and looked down at his feet. It was all the answer Sharpe needed.

“So that explains the weird dynamic. The tension. Except in your case. You look rejuvenated. A couch will do for me, as long as it’s not someplace where I’ll have to hear your bedsprings creaking all night.”

“Finished?”

“Oh, I’m just getting started.” Sharpe grinned wolfishly. “Relax. The setup is perfect for our needs. And the beauty of it is that no one knows I’m here. I haven’t enjoyed an advantage like this in quite a while. Okay, then.” He slapped his hands on his thighs. “Let’s start putting this thing together.”

Sharpe had arrived in a white panel van with Pennsylvania tags. Painted on the side was a big blue monkey wrench with the name “Anderson Plumbing,” along with a phone number with a 215 area code.

“So now you’re a plumber from Philly?”

“A contribution from a concerned friend. There are more of us than you’d think.”

He opened up the back and began unloading crates and boxes, which presumably contained the pieces of the contraption he was about to assemble. He also got out two toolboxes. One last box, a Styrofoam cube with sides roughly four feet long, remained in the back of the van. Sharpe left it there and locked the rear door.

“What’s in the white box?” Cole asked.

Sharpe grinned.

“The fear of God. Use only if necessary.”

Cole wasn’t sure he wanted to know anything more. Besides, as Sharpe began prying open the various boxes and crates it soon became clear that there was plenty of work to be done.

However uneasy the journalists were about this venture, the noise and spectacle of Sharpe’s project soon got the better of their curiosity. Within an hour all three reporters were pitching in. Steve and Cole uncrated the wings and fuselage. Sharpe wouldn’t let them near the smaller parts, like the chip packages, or the cameras.

Barb and Keira handed him tools as he worked, standing to either side like nurses flanking a surgeon.

“Socket wrench, six millimeter.”

“Epoxy.”

“Allen wrench, that L-shaped thing over there.”

It was nearly four o’clock by the time the drone finally looked like an honest-to-goodness aircraft. Keira glanced at her watch and gasped.

“I’m late,” she said. “Sorry, but I have to leave for an appointment.”

Barb and Steve exchanged knowing glances.

“Your super-secret government source who lives out here?” Barb asked.

“Yes, if you really have to know.”

“You’ll miss the test flight,” Sharpe said, his first attempt at actual conversation for more than an hour.

“It’s ready?” Steve asked. He looked excited. Christmas morning indeed, now that the toy was assembled.

“As soon as I tighten the landing gear, make another adjustment or two. We should have enough light left for a shakedown cruise. But let’s let Keira clear the area first. We don’t want to risk flying through her windshield as she heads up the drive.”

Sharpe continued to work while the others watched Keira depart. The dust from her Nissan trailed off into the woods as the sound of her engine faded into the distance. A few minutes later, Sharpe was done. He tested the wind, then Cole and he positioned the plane for takeoff. Cole stepped back, and Sharpe started the engine by punching commands onto his iPad. Cole put on the headset. The image was even clearer than on Bert’s, and with a better configuration of controls and commands. There was also a stick-and-rudder contraption for him to use, a pretty admirable setup. The headset and goggles were even comfortable, as if they’d been built just for him.

“I was guessing at your head size when I fitted them up last night,” Sharpe said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“They’re perfect.”

The old excitement again, creeping into his veins like before a Viper mission, and even sometimes during Predator flights, if the assignment was interesting enough. He had the cockpit view now, peering down
the barrel of the driveway, which Sharpe had already raked and swept. The wind was right, and Sharpe was ready.

“Okay,” he said to Sharpe. “Take her up.”

A whirring noise as the engine amped up, surprisingly quiet for all its oomph. No louder than, say, a weed whacker with an electric motor. Sharpe had built quite a machine, fast and stealthy, and with an intrusive set of eyes. Cole watched from his virtual cockpit as Sharpe handled the takeoff by autopilot, and he got that familiar flutter in his stomach as it lifted off, gained altitude, and then turned gracefully up and across the cornfield. The tree line loomed a few hundred yards away, but they would clear it with ease.

“Okay,” Sharpe said. “Switching her to your control on three. Take her wherever you feel like. Maybe up to seven, eight hundred feet before you try anything fancy.”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Barb said. “Sort of a test mission.”

“Let’s hear it,” Cole said, “I’m open to anything.” And he meant it. This felt good, even this faux brand of flying with two feet on the ground and people’s voices in his ear.

“Find Keira. Get a bead on her car.”

Steve laughed nervously.

“Well, it
would
give you some practice in tracking a moving object,” he said, warming to the idea.

Then Barb.

“Absolutely. And if Captain Cole’s half the pilot I think he is, he’ll track her down in seconds flat.”

“So there you go,” Steve said, like they were a tag team now.

“Then we’ll find out who she’s really meeting with.”

Cole’s heart sank. Exactly the kind of mission he didn’t want. Not something for the cause, just a random act of intrusion. Give them the power, and right away they abused it. Or maybe he was reacting on Keira’s behalf. Would he have felt the same way yesterday, before last night? Had Keira counted that into the equation, perhaps, seeking his loyalty? Now he was the one being calculating. Leave the pettiness and scheming to them. But of course Barb and Steve would now be
expecting
him to resist, and that made him want to just go ahead and do it, let them see that it was no big deal. He would prove Keira
innocent of their brand of duplicity. Clear the air and actually make things better.

“Okay,” he said, “if that’s what you want. This bird’s certainly got the speed for it, so we’ll do it. We’ll go spy on your friend and colleague.” He was wearing the goggles, watching the treetops zip past below him, so he couldn’t see their expressions. But they didn’t answer, so maybe at least he’d shamed them a little.

Cole easily found her car, heading north on the road toward Easton.

“Are you too low?” Barb asked. “Won’t she see you?”

“Wouldn’t that make it more fun for you?”

“C’mon, Cole,” Steve said. “If you’re going to do this, do it right.”

“If
we’re
going to do this, you mean. Relax, I’m at eight hundred feet. As quiet as this thing is she’d have to be looking for it, and we’re directly overhead now. It’s a six-foot wingspan, painted white against an overcast sky, a nonreflective finish so it won’t even shine too much if the sun comes out.”

Cole slowed down, keeping pace. Keira was doing about fifty-five. It was flat country, wide open, and there was barely a breath of wind, which made the flying ridiculously easy. This thing handled like a dream. Cole heard footsteps shuffling toward him on the driveway. Sharpe, probably.

“Kick out the stops, man!” Sharpe said. “See what she’ll do!”

“Later. Aren’t you watching my monitor? They’ve got me following Keira.”

“Oh, for Chrissakes!”

“All hope’s not lost. Show them what your other eye can do. The main spycam. I’ll take her up a little and start circling the target as it moves. I’m a little worried about airspace, though. We’re closing in on the Easton Airport. Just a bunch of little private aircraft, but still.”

“I’ve checked the charts,” Sharpe said, still sounding grumpy. “We’re fine.”

“The noise suppression’s pretty impressive. How much did that set you back?”

“Let me worry about the budget.”

It made him wonder how Sharpe had managed to bankroll all this.
Maybe Castle wasn’t the only one working for someone other than who he was supposed to be. He wished he could take off these goggles and look him in the eye. Or maybe mistrust was contagious, and he’d picked up the bug from Steve and Barb. The whole idea made him weary, a little depressed. You got the power, you abused it. Human nature. And he certainly wasn’t immune.

Keira had turned onto the Easton bypass and moved through a few stoplights as she negotiated a stretch of road through a series of stripmall developments—fast food joints and big box stores. Cole did a barrel roll and even a loop, half to try it out and half to test their patience, but no one complained, which made him figure Sharpe was doing an okay job of keeping the second camera trained on their quarry.

“I’m putting her into a circling pattern at eight hundred feet and switching back to auto,” Cole announced.

“Fine,” Sharpe said. He sounded preoccupied. “That’ll be another nice test, see how well she holds her patterns. I’m locked in on, uh, the subject.”

He sure was. When Cole took off the headset he saw Keira’s car in startling clarity as it pulled in to a small parking lot outside a red clapboard café, on the bypass near Route 50. Steve and Barb were practically draped over his back, enraptured by the view on his iPad. Sharpe glanced back at him, eyes dark with suppressed fury.

“There, she’s getting out,” Steve said.

“Look,” Barb said. “Someone’s getting out of that other car. The BMW. They’re waving. A woman.”

“Must have been waiting on her.”

Keira met the woman in front of the café entrance, where they hugged briefly before heading inside.

“Seems to know her well. Can you zoom on the tags of the BMW?” Barb asked. “Do we still have enough light? Do you think we can get a number?”

“Easily,” Sharpe said, downcast.

And there it was, clear as life despite the low angle of the setting sun, Barb with her notebook out, writing it down. She fairly sprinted into the house for her laptop and was back in a flash, already with the right webpage up, searching the numbers.

“I knew it,” she said. “Knew it. It’s Felicity Barrow, her agent. That’s her ‘government source.’ Her fucking
agent
.”

“How long have we been airborne?” Cole asked, wanting to talk about anything but what they were watching.

“Almost twenty minutes,” Sharpe said.

“How’s the fuel holding up?”

“Plenty left. Not an issue.” A monotone. Going through the motions but nothing more.

Cole looked at Steve, who seemed a little torn. A glint of triumph, perhaps, having proved his worst suspicions, but there was gloom, too.

The women emerged from the café after only twenty minutes. No more than coffee and a snack, perhaps. And if they’d talked business, then the chat must have been decisive, straight to the point. There was a brief exchange of papers in the parking lot, Keira taking a small pile of them from Felicity and then getting into her car.

“Omigod!” Barb exclaimed. “Ten to one it’s a contract.”

“A book deal?” Steve said.

“A book, a film, maybe both. Looked like enough for anything and everything. Oh. My. God.” She sounded giddy. Cole couldn’t bear to look at her, so he kept watching the screen.

For a moment Keira seemed to glance upward, and Cole flinched, wondering if she’d spotted their drone, their eye, gazing back at her. But she was just tossing hair out of her eyes. She hadn’t seen a thing. She climbed back into her car. Her agent’s BMW was already pulling out of the lot.

“I better take over if we want to have her landed by the time she gets back,” Cole said. He slipped the goggles back on.

“Okay,” Sharpe said. “Back under your power now. Are we done with surveillance for the moment?”

“Yes,” Cole said, answering for Barb and Steve, who were now muttering to each other, walking back toward the house. Hatching a plot, no doubt. Dreaming up the best and most dramatic way to confront her when she returned.
And why not?
he supposed. It certainly looked bad, even to him. And it threw everything into a new light, including all of last night.

Cole landed the plane with ease. Sharpe thanked him and went
immediately to his plane to inspect it for damage. Cole joined him as he was crouched on one knee. It was a relief to be away from the others, although he was already dreading the moment when Keira would come wheeling around the curve from the trees.

“Now you see exactly what I was talking about. The hazards of getting involved with journalists,” Sharpe said, still looking at his plane and not at Cole.

“This isn’t about journalism. This is about them. And about this thing you brought us.”

Sharpe shook his head.

“Goddamn idiots. They’ll carve each other to pieces before they ever get the story.”

“Your bird look okay?”

“She looks fine. You did well.
I
did well. But what exactly have we accomplished here, other than fuck things up in this group of yours?”

“Like you said. The genie’s out of the bottle.”

“They don’t know the half of it,” Sharpe said, scowling toward Barb and Steve. “But they’ll learn soon enough. I can at least see to that.”