Game of Drones by Rick Jones, Rick Chesler Read Free Book Online Page B

‘Reaper drone’ was circling the plane in a ‘suspicious manner.’ The second set of correspondence indicated in detail that the drone had maneuvered to the Boeing's aircraft-left, about 100 feet away, and kept pace for approximately twelve seconds before it peeled back and trailed the airliner.
    “How did he know it was a Reaper?”
    “He was in the Air Force,” Cayne returned evenly. “He recognized the model and the design. He knew exactly what it was when he contacted Dulles.”
    “And the tower didn’t pick it up?”
    “No, sir. They had one blip and one blip only, which was the Boeing. The drone never appeared on the screen at any time, before or after the strike.”
    “Which means that it was utilizing stealth capabilities.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Carmichael continued to look through the documents. He couldn't help but think that they had refined the perfect killing machine to the point where it could neither be seen nor heard until the moment it struck--a true ghost of the sky--only to have it used against their very homeland.
    He shook his head as if to rid his mind of the unsavory reality. “And where is this drone now?”
    “Nobody knows, Mr. President. By the time we assembled a squadron of Phantoms, it was already gone.”
    The president closed his eyes and eased his head against the high-back cushion of the Captain’s chair, thinking. Shazad was moving quickly. Within a period of a few hours he had stolen the Reapers and claimed the lives of 200 victims.
    He opened his eyes and looked skyward, to the cabin’s ceiling, wondering if there was a Reaper circling overhead right now with Marine One caught within its sights and possibly drawing a bead.
    But Cayne guessed his worry and shook aside his thoughts. “There’s nothing up there, Mr. President. We have fighter jets patrolling the airspace all around us. You’re quite safe.”
    But President Carmichael wasn’t so sure. The word ‘safe’ was a relative term that could lead to a false sense of security. How could anyone feel safe when a silent and invisible killing machine controlled by a well-connected, jihadist madman lurked somewhere in their midst? Jet fighters notwithstanding, there was a whole lot of space above and around them. The MQ-10 was too perfect a machine to simply dismiss for the fact that they had a few fighter plane escorts to see them all the way to Raven Rock. Underestimating your enemy, he knew, was deadly, so he verbalized his feelings.
    “Steve,” he began, laying the documents on his lap. “We built these Reapers to do exactly what they’re doing--to be undetectable and to strike. That drone can be anywhere above us and not be seen, unless it wants to be seen.”
    “Trust me, Mr. President, if it’s up there, our teams will find it.”
    President Carmichael held a hopeful gaze a moment before going back to the paperwork . He wanted to believe him. But should he? Could he?
    He read the line-by-line transcripts between the pilot and the tower command at Dulles. It appeared that the drone had come from the northeast of the plane’s position, circled it as if sizing it up for clarification, and then maneuvered close to the plane a moment before falling back.
    The next two pages were disturbing, the pilot reporting that the drone had locked onto their position and then fired off a missile. The pilot attempted evasive maneuvers even though his aircraft was not designed for any such thing, with the first missile missing so narrowly that it almost grazed the plane’s underbelly.
    The subsequent page was even more alarming, with the dialogue between pilot and tower coming to a close halfway down the page, the pilot in mid-sentence before the plane was struck by a second missile that hit the aircraft’s tail section, causing the airplane to commence its death spiral.
    The page after that was most troubling of all. Not only were 164 lives lost, but one of those lives was that of Senator Houseman, the Senate Majority