Bobby nodded slowly, his gaze narrowing. “Yeah. Why?”
“Because if he’s good enough, there may be something to help you pull off this suicide attack of yours and increase your chances of walking away.” Major Blake stepped to the door and checked the hallway before closing it. “Look, I’m not supposed to mention this, but it is a joint military and CIA contract.”
Bobby crossed his arms and sat on the edge of the heavy conference table. “I’m listening.”
Blake pulled open a drawer from a secure file cabinet and fished out a thick folder. “We might be testing prototypes for a program nicknamed Hornet’s Nest. These little bastards would be the swarm.” He dropped the folder on the table. “We may have samples from three different contractors.”
Bobby flipped open the folder and perused the pages. “Drones?”
Blake nodded. “Yeah, sort of. Miniature ones.” He chuckled low in his throat. “Real quiet, too.”
Bobby shrugged as he pushed the file away. “Okay. And?”
Blake reached across the table and opened the file again. He flipped through some of the pages then turned it around for Bobby to read. “They’re tiny. They’re silent. They can be preprogrammed with facial recognition and allowed to run autonomously with what they’re calling Assisted AI, or operated manually via a remote.” He pushed the file closer. “And they can be armed.”
Bobby pulled the file closer and stared at the specs. “Eleven rounds of 9MM?” He ran his finger down the sheet. “C4 charges?” He looked up at Blake. “Are you fucking serious?”
“But wait, there’s more!” Blake added, mocking the late night TV infomercials. “They can be set to track heat sources. They can be assigned a target and follow it.” He sat down and gave Bridger a knowing look. “Of course, there are always ‘buts.’”
“Like what?”
“Like, they have just under thirty minutes of flight time so you’ll have to be close and act quickly.”
“What else?”
Blake pursed his lips. “We have prototypes from three bidders, all hoping to gain that golden government contract.” He crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair. “So, we have limited numbers of each.”
Bobby sighed and stared at the specs again. “How are they operated?”
“That’s the good news. They can all be operated from the same remote. We wanted universal connectivity, so regardless of manufacturer, one remote controls them all. Same radio frequency, same electronic specs.”
“What’s the catch?”
Blake glanced toward the door again then lowered his voice. “You’d have to steal them.” He cleared his throat. “From us.”
Langley VA
William Jameson, Director of the CIA’s Information Operations Center picked up his phone eagerly. “Please tell me that you were able to actually do something.”
The voice on the other end sounded slightly more confident than the previous time they spoke. “I’ve got people willing to listen.”
Jameson felt his jaw tighten and he had to force himself to remain calm. “And what exactly are they listening to?”
“They want to know what’s in it for them.”
Jameson heard his breath against the speaker and fought the urge to use an expletive. “Do they not see the benefit of removing a considerable competitor? Why the financial windfall alone should be—”
“They’re not stupid, sir,” the voice interrupted. “But they also aren’t prepared to go to war with another cartel at the moment.”
“And why not? Aren’t they all blood thirsty, money hungry—”
“There’s been a certain…’peace’ between the cartels for some time now. They’ve all carved out their own little niches and there seems to be enough money to go around.” The voice sighed. “For the moment, anyway, they’re all content with the status quo.”
“Of course they are,” Jameson groaned. “They’ll carve up some poor border farmer and his family for snitching out their mules, but heaven help us if somebody wants to take over another cartel’s territory.” He wiped a hand across his face and moaned. “What do they want?”
The voice cleared his throat and seemed to stammer at first. “T-they’d really like somebody to call off the DEA’s activities along our southern border.”
“I don’t have that authority.”
“I understand that sir, and I told them as much.”
“What else might they be interested in?” Jameson knew that this would be their true goal. Always ask for something unattainable at first, then lower the expectation with something more reasonable.
“Um, well…uh, weapons, sir.”
Jameson scoffed. “They can buy all the weapons they could ever need. They have more money than most nations.”
“True, but the kind of weapons they want are…much more difficult to get.”
“Such as?” Jameson felt a cold chill run down his spine.
“Heavy munitions, sir. APC’s, shoulder fired rockets, heavy machine guns…and, that drone. Along with the armaments to outfit it.”
Jameson actually laughed and had to pull the phone from his ear. “You seriously expect me to believe that they don’t already have such things?”
“They claim they don’t.” The voice cleared his throat again. “Or perhaps they have limited numbers and don’t want to waste what they have going to war against a rival cartel.”
Jameson leaned back in his chair and considered the possibility. “Tell them this…” he began slowly. “Show me proof that they have the resources to pull off this… ‘coup’ against Murillo, and I’ll not only replace their munitions, I’ll double whatever they use to ensure their supply doesn’t dwindle.”
The voice took a deep breath. “I’ll relay the message sir. I’m not sure if they have access to a heavy drone though, sir…”
Jameson scoffed. “With the money they have, they could rent the goddamned Mexican army for a day and use their drones. Just make sure that they understand, action first, resupply after. And if they keep my assets unharmed, I’ll see about getting them their very own UAV.”
“Understood.”
Jameson hung up the phone and stared at the world map hanging on his wall. “Do we really want to create an army of thugs in a neighboring country?” He shook his head slowly then glanced to Bobby’s dossier. “You’d better be worth this, Mr. Bridger.”
Near Chapala Mexico
El Fantasma peered through the wide
