Threat Vector

weak.”

DNI was shaking her head, but Ryan was ahead of Mary Pat. “Bob, whoever hacked the drone is going to have the video feed from the cameras. They can show themselves defeating our technology whenever the hell they want. If we do anything to cover this, it’s just going to compound the problem.”

Ryan added, “In this case, ladies and gentlemen, we are going to have to take this on the chin. I want you to release a statement saying that while on a sensitive mission in Afghanistan airspace, at the invitation of the Afghan government, an unknown force wrested control of our hunter/killer drone and attacked an American forward operating base. Our attempts to destroy the weapon before it crossed into Pakistan were unsuccessful. We will find the perpetrators, the murderers, and we will bring them to justice.”

Burgess did not like it, Ryan could tell. SecDef would be thinking about how, within hours of that announcement, the Taliban would be on Al Jazeera with some bullshit story about how they did it themselves.

He said, “I don’t like us sharing our vulnerabilities with the world. It will encourage more people to try it.”

Ryan retorted, “I’m not thrilled about it, either, Bob. I just see the alternative as being worse.”

At that moment the phone beeped in the center of the conference table. President Ryan himself tapped it. “Yes?”

“Sir, we just heard from Homeland Security. The Predator drone has been shot down over western Nebraska. No casualties reported.”

“Well, thank God for that,” Ryan said. It was the first good news all day.

TWENTY-NINE

Computer hardware territory sales manager Todd Wicks sat in a pizzeria with a slice of cheese pizza greasing up a waxed paper plate in front of him.

He had no appetite, but he could not fathom any reason why he should be sitting here, right now at three p.m., that did not involve him eating pizza.

He forced himself to take a bite. He chewed slowly, swallowed tentatively, worried he would not be able to keep it down.

Todd thought he was going to puke, but it wasn’t the pizza’s fault.

The phone call setting up the meeting had come at eight o’clock that morning. The caller did not give a name, nor did he say what the meeting would be about. He just gave a time and a place, and then he asked Todd to recite back the time and the place.

And that was it. Since the call, Wicks’s stomach had felt like he’d eaten a live cat; he’d stared at the walls in his office and he’d looked at his watch every three or four minutes, at once wanting three o’clock to never come and to hurry up and get here so he could get this over with.

The man who contacted him was Chinese, that much was clear from his voice over the phone, and that, along with the short and cryptic conversation, was enough reason for him to worry.

This man would be a spy, he would want Todd to commit some act of treason that could get him killed or thrown in prison for the rest of his life, and, Todd knew already… that whatever it was, he would fucking do it.

When Todd got home from Shanghai after the episode with the hooker and the Chinese detective, he considered telling the inevitable agent who contacted him to go fuck himself when he came calling about his bullshit spy mission. But no, he could not do that. They had the videotape and the audiotape and he only had to think back to that fifty-two-inch TV in the Shanghai suite and his lily-white sweaty ass bouncing up and down to know that the Chinese had him by the fucking balls.

If he balked when the Chinese came calling, then there was no doubt that within a few days, his wife, Sherry, would open an e-mail containing an HD video of the entire event.

No fucking way. That’s not happening. He’d told himself this at the time, and since then he’d waited on the call and dreaded whatever would come after the call.

At five minutes past the hour an Asian man carrying a shopping bag walked into the pizza joint, bought a calzone and a can of Pepsi from the one man behind the counter, and then brought his late lunch toward the small seating area in the back.

As soon as Todd realized the man was Asian, he tracked his every move, but when he neared Todd’s table the computer hardware salesman looked away, down at his greasy cheese pizza, assuming eye contact would be a definite no-no in a situation such as this.

“Good afternoon.” The man sat down at Todd’s little bistro table, violating the protocol Wicks had just established.

Todd looked up and shook the hand offered by the Chinese man.

Wicks was surprised by the look of this spy. He certainly did not seem ominous. He was in his twenties, younger than Todd would have predicted, and he seemed almost nerdish in appearance. Thick glasses, a white button-down shirt, and slightly wrinkled black Sansabelt slacks.

“How is the pizza?” the man asked with a smile.

“It’s okay. Look, shouldn’t we go somewhere private?”

The young man in the thick glasses just shook his head with a little smile. He bit into his calzone and winced at the hot cheese. He gulped Pepsi and then said, “No, no. This is fine.”

Todd rubbed his fingers through his hair. “This shop has security cameras. Just about every restaurant does. What if someone goes back and—”

“The camera is not working at the moment,” the Chinese spy said with a smile. He started to take another bite of his lunch, but then he stopped. “Todd, I am beginning to wonder if you are looking for a bad excuse to avoid helping us.”

“No. It’s okay. I’m just… worried.”

The younger man took another bite, then another sip from his can. He shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. We would like to ask a favor of you. It is very easy. One favor, and that’s it.”

Todd had spent the past month thinking about little else other than this “favor.”

“What is it?”

With his continued nonchalance, the Chinese spy said, “You are planning on making a delivery to one of your customers in the morning.”

Fuck, thought Wicks. He was due at Bolling Air Force Base at eight a.m. to drop off a pair of motherboards at DIA. Panic shot through his heart. He would be spying for the Chinese. He would be caught. He would lose everything.

But he had no alternative.

Todd lowered his head halfway to the table. He wanted to cry.

The Chinese man said, “Hendley Associates. In Maryland.”

Todd’s head came back up quickly.

“Hendley?”

“You do have an appointment with them?”

Wicks did not even wonder how it was the Chinese knew about his dealings with this particular customer. He was elated that he was being asked to do something involving corporate espionage as opposed to something involving the U.S. government. “Right. Eleven a.m. Dropping off a new high-speed drive from a German manufacturer.”

The young Chinese man who had not given his name slid the shopping bag under the table.

“What is that?” Todd asked.

“It is your product. The drive. It is exactly the same product you would deliver. We want you to make that delivery but substitute this drive. Do not worry, it is identical.”

Wicks shook his head. “Their IT director is kind of a security freak. He is going to run all sorts of diagnostics on your drive.” Todd paused, unsure if he should say out loud what was obvious. After a moment he blurted out, “He is going to find whatever you put on there.”