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Still, he was the wrangler in the field, not this asshole European. “Who is this?”
“This is Gama director. I’m giving you an order.”
“But the wind—”
“You were sent because you are supposedly the best drone operator in the Americas. Now is your chance to prove it.”
Carlos Contreras looked out the front window; foliage rising over the wall of an automotive engine repair training center thrashed as a gust blasted up the street from the lake. He said, “It is my professional opinion that any attempt to fly right now at this altitude and in this weather will result in the crash of the platform.”
“Those aren’t your platforms, Zero One. Those aren’t my platforms, either. If it crashes, it crashes, but I need to tell the assets we at least tried to get eyes on. They are demanding it.”
Contreras’s jaw fixed in anger. “I don’t tell the assets how to do their jobs, and they probably shouldn’t tell me how—”
The European interrupted again. “I expect coverage over the target within five minutes. Gama out.” The transmission ended.
He sighed loudly, almost a groan, then put down his juice and scooted over to the cases. All his units had been recharged in the four-and-a-half-hour halt of flight ops, so he grabbed the top case and popped it open, then removed a dark gray rectangular device only four inches by eight inches. He extended four arms, spun the propellers on the top of each one to make sure they hadn’t been damaged in the case, then turned the device on by holding down a button on its belly with his right hand, just aft of the bulbous camera lens shield.
With his left hand he opened the laptop in front of him and tapped a few keys, and a soft blue light flickered on the roof of the device.
Another series of inputs and the propellers began to spin.
Contreras rose to a crouch, made his way past the cases to the back door of the van, and looked out through the smoked-glass windows. Seeing no one around in the little parking lot, he opened the door and stepped out.
The wind had lessened for the time being, but he wasn’t hopeful about any of this.
The Mexican said a quick little prayer as he always did when he sent one of his devices on a mission, then gently tossed it into the air.
Instantly the quadcopter rose and disappeared over the top of the van into the night, its buzzing rotor noise fading in no more than three or four seconds.
Contreras ducked back into the van and closed the door. Still praying the wind didn’t gust too hard, he opened his other laptop and put his hands on the pair of joysticks in front of it.
The quadcopter was on autopilot, racing to the target location, but he knew that if enough wind hit it to where it spun out of control, then the autopilot might disengage automatically and he’d have to try to recover it himself before it crashed.
He concentrated on the feed in front of him, willing the device onwards towards the action that was about to start one quarter mile to the northwest.
NINE
Court Gentry looked out the window next to the balcony door, his eyes on the darkened street below. The precipitation had mostly stopped, but he could tell there were occasional blasts of wind from the off-and-on-again buffeting of the window glass, and rainwater ran deep in the gullies below him. TukTuks and small vehicles passed by from time to time, moving down the middle of the two-lane street to avoid being caught up in the small rivers on each side of the road heading down towards the lake.
But he saw no one on foot at all.
He wore a black hooded raincoat and his backpack; his SIG pistol was jammed into his belt in the small of his back, with extra mags in his pocket, positioned for quick reloads.
As he continued looking at the scene outside, he heard Zoya step up behind him.
“He’s not answering his phone.”
“Genrich?”
“Yes. He could be in the air. Flying back to Mexico City. He had to go commercial.”
Court turned to her. “Yeah, he could be a lot of things.” Looking her up and down, he saw she wore a raincoat, and her large gray backpack was over a shoulder, with her smaller daypack on her chest. “You going somewhere?”
She looked sad and, for the first time today, he felt for her. He was mad and hurt that she’d kept Genrich’s appearance a secret from him, but he could now plainly see this man meant something to her.
She sniffed a little, holding back tears. “I am coming with you.”
His heart lifted, but he tried to remain stone-faced. “You sure?”
