(Wrath-09)-Spiders From The Shadows (2013) by Chris Stewart Read Free Book Online Page B

I’ve got control of the Dragonfly. I say again, I’ve got control. It’s responding to my commands now. We’ve got hover. I’m moving upward. Going to get some space between the drone and the people there so they don’t see it. OK, OK, up on the ceiling . . . hooks deployed . . . we’re on the ceiling now.”
    The tiny lens, no larger than a fly’s eyes, transmitted from the hallway outside the presidential suite. It showed a picture from about shoulder height, then hovered upward toward the ceiling, where it stopped and hung, suspended. The camera angle suddenly inverted as the tiny reconnaissance drone approached the ceiling, then flipped over as the bug dug its Velcro hooks into the tile. Looking down, the lens continued broadcasting to the receiver/transmitter left in the bathroom forty feet down the hall. Then, slowly, as if on tiny legs, the image started moving toward the double glass doors. Seeing through the bug’s tiny lens, the men inside Offutt’s command center were able to make out a small group of people in the hallway. Closer, almost directly below them, they saw three men, two of them in uniform, a black man in the middle, the guards’ hands on his arms. The audio started cutting through, transmitting the mix of voices from deep inside of Raven Rock.
    The technicians shouted congratulations to each other.
    Dragonfly was a go.
    Brucius jerked forward in his seat, his chief of staff beside him, their eyes intent, their faces drawn with equal fascination and concern. Brucius couldn’t believe the image they were receiving from what was essentially a reconnaissance aircraft not much larger than a fly. The grainy image was not perfect—it paused and halted and was grainy as a first-generation security camera—but he could clearly see his best friend being led toward two Army officers waiting near a set of etched glass doors.
    The Dragonfly was inching forward. James and the two guards in the hallway moved much faster. It quickly fell behind.
    Brucius leaned toward the main screen on the wall. “Can you make it fly to get into the presidential office suite?” he demanded of the technicians.
    “We can’t risk it, Mr. Secretary. If we fly now, they’re going to see it.”
    Brucius turned around. “It’s got to get through the doorway!” he yelled.
    The men were now ten paces farther up the hallway. They were walking quickly. The drone was moving forward just a bare inch at a time.
    “It’s not going to make it,” the chief of staff repeated. “It’s going to get locked outside the door.”
    Brucius turned back to the pilot technician. “You’ve got to take a chance and fly it. If the drone doesn’t get inside the presidential suite, all of this will be for nothing.”
    The technician jerhe door as he

EIGHT
    Four Miles West of Chatfield, Twenty-One Miles Southwest of Memphis, Tennessee
    The sun was higher in the morning sky and the air was almost comfortable. Winter would come, humid and cutting with northern wind, but now it was early fall and there was still enough warmth to let the sun heat up the earth once it was higher in the sky. Bono and Ellie walked again together, giving them time to talk. Ellie kept up a constant chatter about the secret cake she was going to decorate, the weather, Miller, her mom, pretty much anything that fluttered through her mind. She ran ahead of him, skipped back, grabbed his hand, always moving, her mood happy, the brightness back in her eyes.
    Coming across the open field toward the house, Bono was happy to see Caelyn standing on the porch, waiting for them. She looked radiant in the morning sun, her blonde hair illuminated from the back. She wore blue jeans, a light sweater, and leather boots. He stopped. He couldn’t help it. It made his heart thump to see her standing there. “Hey, baby,” he said in a rather poor Humphrey Bogart imitation. “Looks like you might be looking for a man.” He turned and flexed his biceps, nodding toward his