Game of Drones (18 page)

“No. She lost it almost immediately when the system became jammed."

“Listen, Tanner. We already know for a fact that Shazad has launched another drone. But we need a heading..”

“I can offer you this: Right before the anomaly disappeared, it was heading in a northeast direction.”

“Northeast.”

“Yes. John, we believe Shazad is pushing most of the resources toward D.C. airspace to minimize the policing above Manhattan.”

“That may be, Tanner. But even so, Manhattan is blanketed by drones and fighters. Which isn't hard to do, since it's not a big island, it's just densely populated. So that part of his plan, if that was in fact his plan, was misguided. There is currently heavy cloud cover from the north of Virginia all the way up into Maine, though. So if that drone does happen to be heading to Manhattan as you suspect, it won’t be sighted until it’s right above the city. How certain are you that’s where it’s going?”

“It’s a guesstimate,” Tanner said as he braked to avoid a slow vehicle ahead of him, “based on Danielle’s calculations. When did that drone take off?”

“Just over thirty minutes ago.”

“Inform the president that the Reaper may not be heading to D.C. at all, but to points in the northeast. The most likely candidate would be New York City.”

“I will.”

“You need to press it, John. I know I’m right on this. In the meantime, I need a couple of sorties flown to the coordinates I gave you. That airstrip needs to be taken out---there are two more drones left.”

“Tanner, that location you gave me is an old army bunker that was built during the Vietnam War. Due to the thickness of the wooded area, it was used as a training facility for soldiers learning how to deal with guerilla warfare. It was decommissioned in the seventies once the war was over.”

“John, that's the perfect location! Shazad can strike at high profile targets north and east from there, while remaining hidden in the wilderness.”

“I agree it would make a good location for him. What I need to know is if you have verification that he's actually there."

Tanner frowned as he passed the car that was blocking his 80 mph progress in the fast lane. “I know I’m right on this, John.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I have no visuals, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Tanner, you know better than that. The president is not going to remove planes from strategic airspace over D.C. without confirmation. Especially when there’s an airborne Reaper possibly en route.”

“Two planes. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Tanner, what you’re looking at could be anything from a paint-ballers' playground to a meth lab. Or maybe it’s an illegal still. My point is, unless you have a visual, then it could be anything. And if it could be anything, then the president is not going to alter his plan of protection by flying sorties over an old bunker without confirmation of Shazad’s presence there. You know this.”

Tanner did know this. The fact that a drone was heading for an unknown target to any number of points along the east coast was paramount. Protecting American shores took priority above all else. To pull a plane or two away from its primary aim of intercepting the drone, and then relocate it to an area without confirmation, simply diminished the protective shield when the shield needed to be at its strongest.

Casey spoke again.
“Where are you?”

“On the highway en route to the bunker. You want verification, John, I’ll get you verification. So keep your mike open.”

“What’s your ETA?”

Tanner checked his watch, then the speedometer, quickly doing a mental calculation with time, distance and speed. “About forty-five minutes."

“I’ll notify the president immediately and update him on your activity. He’ll see the merit in your reasoning. I'm pretty sure he'll supply you with ground support--troops and a chopper. It’s the dogfighters he can't spare. But the problem here, Tanner, is that you and your team will arrive at the bunker long before he can get that ground support over there. So get me the visual confirmation that Shazad is there so we have our justification.”

“I will.”

“You can set up a perimeter until the troops arrive.”

“Can’t. There are still two drones that need to be incapacitated before they’re launched. We need to go in and debilitate them immediately. Once we do, then there’s nothing more
Shazad
can do. He’s done.”

“Be careful, Tanner. He’s no greenhorn when it comes to war.”

“I know that.”

“Contact me when you have verification.”

“I will.”

Keeping his eyes steady on the road, Tanner flipped his lip mike over his head.

Islamabad, Pakistan

Although the prime minister of Pakistan is the head of the government, the president is the constitutional figurehead. After the explosions, President Sadiq Hussain was awakened and informed of the catastrophes. He immediately called a meeting at a venue far from the Parliament House Building, which had been severely damaged by the blast.

Sitting in council were three Chief Ministers, leaders of the Upper and Lower Houses, the Chairman of the Senate, and the Speaker of the National Assembly.

Chief speaker among them was Saj Usmani, who put on his second face as someone who was deeply concerned and angry. He was no longer that man who wept with regret a few hours before.

“Did we expect anything different?” Usmani bellowed. “Even the prime minster knew this would happen! And look where it got him! Now the city of Islamabad is crippled!”

President Hussain raised his hand in a gesture for Usmani to compose himself. “What’s done has been done,” he stated calmly. “What we do here tonight is to deal with the situation, not to point accusing fingers. The prime minister believed it best for the nation of Pakistan to move forward and jointly with the wishes of the world community, and with the blessings of many supporters, including myself, who sit at this table. It is for reasons like this that al-Qaeda must be banished from Pakistan. Islamabad burns because of the bullying tactics of this regime. What you see beyond these windows is the diplomacy of a terrorist faction, which means there is no diplomacy. They burn and bomb and kill. They soil our streets with their filth. Do they think that they endear themselves to the people of Pakistan after what they did here tonight? I think not. The prime minister was right.”

“He was not right!” shouted Surif al-Quad, the Chairman of the Senate. He was a big man with assorted fat rolls running from his waist to his chest, his physique reminiscent of the Michelin Man. Whenever he spoke, the waddle of his gelatinous double-chin would tremble.

“If the Assembly was called regarding the capture and detainment of Zawahiri, you and the prime minister may have found yourselves on the short end of support. We are still a democratic regime!”

“Al-Zawahiri is not a topic of a political agenda. He is a criminal. And criminals do not call for a required gathering between the principals.”

Surif al-Quad leaned back in his chair, looking at the president through squinting eyes. “We are now at war with al-Qaeda,” he said flatly. “We had always been at peace with al-Qaeda because we provided them a sanctuary. Now your concerns and the concerns of others suddenly weigh in as to how we appear in the eyes of the worldwide community?”

He pointed out the window. The dark horizon glowed orange with flames.

“Was it worth it, Mr. President? Now that Islamabad burns?”

The president was obviously at a loss for words.

Surif al-Quad shook his head.
I thought not.
“I propose that we broker a peace with the organization and negotiate a release of al-Zawahiri immediately.”

There was a series of calls at the table, those ‘for’ and ‘against’ the proposal, with speakers trying to declare their opinions louder than their opponents, causing chaos.

“Enough!” shouted the president. But arguments continued until the president used the palm of his hand as a gavel, slapping the tabletop several times until conversations eventually quieted to silence. “I said . . . enough.”

But Saj Usmani wasn’t about to stand pat. “Mr. President, the prime minister has been assassinated. The Islamabad Stock Exchange and major transit routes have been crippled. Even without further damage to our city, it will be a long time before we see business as usual again. I would say that we’re in a state of war that has yet to be declared. Broker a peace now before what happens in Islamabad happens to other cities.”

“This isn’t war,” said the president. “This is an act of terrorism.”

“Which never needs to happen again,” Surif al-Quad quickly responded. “Such attacks on Pakistani soil demand the weigh-in of all principals you have sitting here before you tonight. And I, for one, say that al-Zawahiri should be released, if al-Qaeda is willing to cease and desist all current and future activities.”

A chorus of support made the rounds back and forth across the table, which was met by those who opposed. But those who opposed had grown marginally thinner after Surif al-Quad had spoken in earnest. And he wasn't done yet.

“Mr. President,” al-Quad said after the bickering died down, “when the capital of Pakistan is burning, then the issue at hand becomes the vote of leaders who represent the people of this nation. The people of Pakistan do not want to wage war against al-Qaeda, believe me. We must make a decision as to what is better for the Pakistanis. We either release Zawahiri or we don’t. But if we do not, then more cities will burn and more people will die. It’s as simple as that. How we appear before the eyes of the worldwide community will have no consequence on Pakistan. Our alliances fall with the Middle East. Not with Europe. And certainly not with the United States or its allies.”

The president appraised the faces of those at the table. In his opinion they appeared collectively neutral, or at least numbed, their faces hard to read. “al-Zawahiri is to be turned over to the Americans in less than twelve hours,” he finally said. “In fact, the escort team is already here.”

“Then send them back,” stated Aqeel Wali, a Chief Minister from the Second Province. “We no longer have an obligation to the Americans, given Islamabad’s current state.”

“We cannot give our allies a promise, and then renege on it,” returned the president. “Our associates would see this as a weakness on our part, and label us as a country who does not stand by its word.”

“They’ll understand,” said Surif al-Quad. “They will.” He shrugged as if it was impossible to believe otherwise.

The president appeared to mull this over. “Since this decision will be one of democratic routine, then I want additional members within the House and Senate to confer as well. I want everyone to have a voice on this,” he said. “Everyone.”

“And should the vote be in favor of brokering a peace to al-Qaeda?” asked Surif al-Quad.

The president sighed through his nose. “Then we will release al-Zawahiri.”

Surif al-Quad smiled.

Raven Rock

President Carmichael listened intently to what FBI Director John Casey told him regarding Tanner Wilson and his team of Outcasts, an elite group of independent specialists who were aiding in the hunt for Aasif Shazad.

“And these people are captained by who, again?” asked the president.

“His name is Tanner Wilson,” said Casey, omitting the fact that Tanner resigned his FBI post while under investigation for alleged misconduct issues. “Tanner believes that Shazad is working from a vantage point where he can reach major targets in the northeast as well as Washington.”

He leaned forward to emphasize his next words. “It is his opinion--and I concur, based on the data coming from the coordinates that he has triangulated from previous strikes--that the drone is heading in a northeast direction.”

The president looked at his watch. The Reaper had been airborne for more than forty-five minutes, which would put it about one hundred seventy miles away from its launch point.

"If D.C. was the target, it probably would have been struck by now. I want New York authorities, especially those in Manhattan, notified that they are to heighten their Threat Rating from Severe to Extreme. I want every plane and drone circling above that city.”

Attorney General Steven Cayne immediately went to his phone.

To Casey, the president said, “What do you have regarding this bunker?”

The FBI head pointed to one of the monitors that was part of a wall-mounted bank. “If I may, Mr. President.”

“Go ahead.”

The screen in the upper right-hand corner lit up with an overhead view of the bunker. When Casey zoomed in, the camo-netting was clearly defined, even with its bramble-like coverings and broken tree branches.

“As you can see, this is a recent and obvious attempt to mask the location from eyes in the sky,” Casey said. “This used to be a training facility during the Vietnam War, when soldiers were prepped to fight in the jungle. However, when we fast forward to 2014, we now look at it as the perfect location for Shazad to set up his field command station. Underneath that netting is a runaway long enough to launch a Reaper drone. The surroundings are discreet and well off the beaten path, even by rural standards. And then you get this...”

He hit a couple of buttons on the remote that expanded the view. Suddenly a series of red lines materialized, all branching out from a central point of the bunker, with each line extending to a major point along the eastern seaboard from Washington D.C. all the way to Manhattan. “These lines, people, represent trajectories and potential targets that these drones are capable of striking if launched from this particular facility.”

The president raised his eyebrows. Shazad could pick and choose from so many targets. “It’s plausible,” he said. “In fact, it’s highly reasonable to believe that this Tanner guy is right. How does he know this?”

Casey shrugged. “I thinking
knowing
is a little strong a term at this point, but he inferred the position of the bunker by triangulating the locations of prior strikes and trajectories, and then eyeballing the location from satellite photos, realizing it makes sense. He has no hard verification, but he caught a brief anomaly on infrared thought to be a contrail.”