The banker shook his head. “I have never seen him before.”
“Doesn’t look like an operator,” said Ding.
“Because he’s small and skinny like you?” Wu quipped.
“No, because he doesn’t have callouses, scars, and a nose that’s been broken five times like you.”
Wu pointed out a small wafer clipped to his shirt pocket. “That’s a film badge dosimeter. I’ll bet he was brought in to handle the material.”
Klaus said, “I remember now…Malenkov mentioned that one of his technicians was a physicist. I think his name was Qasim, a Druze.”
Before Clark could respond, Hyori, who was standing watch, announced, “Squirters!”
Clark half turned, his weapon up and boresighted to his gaze. He saw two men running toward the distant fence line like scorched rabbits. They were more panicked than any kind ofthreat and neither was carrying a weapon. In a perfect world, Clark would have sent someone to chase them down for questioning. In this world he had other priorities.
“Let ’em go. It’s the last of the hired help making a run for town.”
The team pressed forward and stopped in front of the massive hangar doors. The doors were closed, and a sudden gust of wind caused them to shiver. Overhead, two drones, larger than the ones that had been decimating the enemy force, hovered patiently. If Clark wasn’t mistaken, they were waiting for the doors to be opened.How freakin’ weird is that?he thought. He ignored a mischievous urge to wave to the cameras.
“Think the doors might be booby-trapped?” Ding asked.
Clark looked at them cautiously. “Doubtful. If there’s actually radioactive material inside…it wouldn’t need that kind of protection.”
Ding frowned at Clark’s logic.
“What we could really use is a Geiger counter,” said Hyori.
Clark made a flicking motion at the doors with his fingers. Two team members shouldered up to each one, took a solid grip, and began pushing them apart. They gave way slowly, the metal wheels beneath each door squeaking in protest. Everyone’s attention was rapt, as if they were opening Aladdin’s cave.
What they saw inside was a bitter disappointment. There was an aircraft tug, workbenches, industrial hardware. Crates, gas cans, and fans. But not a Shahed drone in sight.
“Dammit!” Ding said. “We’re too late!”
A tirade of muttered invectives was interrupted when Hyori said, “Boss, possible threat!”
Weapon barrels rose and fingers came off trigger guards. Based on where Hyori was looking, everyone made themselves small. Some went low; others moved behind the hangar doors.
“Posit?” Clark queried, having taken a knee.
“The Ilyushin. I saw a strobe from the cockpit…like a flashlight beam sweeping.”
Ding trained his scope on the aircraft, which was roughly a hundred yards away. Unlike the bullet-pocked, and very un-airworthy Gulfstream, the Ilyushin seemed to have survived the battle unscathed.
“I’ve got movement inside,” Ding said, referencing his optic. “Doesn’t look like a threat. Probably the crew trying to stay out of the fray.”
A larger gust of wind snapped at everyone’s clothing. The hangar was enveloped in a cloud of brown dust.
“Yeah, chances are they’re just hiding,” said Clark. “Or…”
He began issuing orders. While the team dispersed, Clark looked high in the hangar bay. In the cavernous upper reaches the two large drones were flying around at a leisurely pace, their cameras rotating on gimbals to uplink the scene.
He had a pretty good idea who was on the other end of that feed. A room full of people in the White House basement. People who were probably wondering the same thing he was.
Where are those drones now?
64
Situation Room
