Jerome Preisler - Net Force--Attack Protocol

Right now he only cared about getting them within range of his FOG deflection shield before the drones dropping from the sky blasted them into the next world.

“Wass,” he said, “they inside the shield yet?”

Wasserman checked his instrument console. “Not yet,” he said. “We need to be closer—”

“Pickles, speed up! Let’s get it on!”

“Handling it, bro.”

Fernandez’s eyes locked on the screens. The fliers were coming down in a swarming, swirling column. Those two out there in the field had seconds at most.

He rocked in his seat as the four Pumas bucked forward with a surge of acceleration. The AI was pushing their drive engines to full power, routing electricity into them from reserve batteries and nonessential systems.

The wagons went only a short distance before they shuddered to a halt. In the C&C, Fernandez saw Perez and the woman still holding each other close just a few yards in front of him, the throng of drones within ten feet of their heads.

He hitched in a tense breath, held it...

And an instant later released an audible sigh of relief.

The fliers were scattering like panicked birds. They spooled and spun every which way through the darkness, veering apart in furious uncontrolled flight. Fernandez saw bright flashes of light in his display as they crashed and detonated all across the field.

He watched for a minute, then turned to Wasserman.

“Damn, Wassy,” he said. “We’re hot tonight.”

“Butt-puckering hot!” the private said, a smile breaking across his lips.

Fernandez realized all at once he was smiling, too. A huge, bright, daffy grin.

“Firefighter’s-fart hot!” he said, not sure what that was supposed to mean.

“Devil’s-piss hot!”

“Can’t-feel-my-face hot!”

“Ass-in-hell hot!”

Swept by relief, the two of them sat there cackling like lunatics for a long five seconds. Then Fernandez pulled himself together and nodded toward his display. The apparent sweethearts out there were looking around like they had trouble believing they were still alive, and he could hardly blame them.

“Better pick ’em up before they catch a cold,” he said and manually switched on the public address system.

His hands firmly around her waist, Mario boosted Laura through the hatch and climbed in after her. Sergeant Fernandez had instructed them to board the auton with the name Percy Two painted on its rocket tube, opening its rear door by remote command.

Mario pulled down one of the folded sidewall seats for her, and she settled into it. He was unfolding the one alongside it when he noticed her looking up at him.

“Mario,” she said.

“Yes?”

“I have to ask you something...”

He stood in silence a moment, his seat halfway open as the vehicle bumped forward, heading toward the south gate.

“Uh...yes?”

“Outside,” she said, “when it looked like those drones were going to...well...”

He nodded.

“I thought we might die,” he said.

“I know,” she said.

They were both quiet. The auton rumbled on. The monitor on the wall showed they had turned from the ’Burbs onto the south perimeter road.

“What I said to you,” Mario said. “Out there , that is...”

“Yes?”

“I really thought we were going to die,” he said.

Laura looked at him. “You really already told me.”

“Right, right. Sorry...”

“Mario?”

“Yes?”

“What you said...”

“I know it must’ve sounded crazy. I mean, we haven’t even had our first date .”

“My God, I almost forgot,” she said. “Bucharest, Saturday night...”

“The battle of the bands,” he said. “Not that I think it’s in the cards after everything that’s happened tonight...”

“I would still go with you,” she said. “If we can.”

“Really?”

“ Especially after tonight,” she said. “Life goes on, you know?”

He looked at her and nodded a little. She looked at him and smiled.

And without hesitation, he dropped onto one knee and swept her hand into his, balancing there in front of her in the rocking, rumbling, shaking troop compartment. For some reason, he thought suddenly of the snowflake alighting on her nose outside the exchange. Lingering there an instant before it she brushed it off.

He noticed only now that she was wearing pink nail polish. Pale pink, her hands small and delicate, her nails short but perfectly manicured.

“I love you, Laura,” he said, both his hands around hers now.

Her smile grew wider.

“I love you , Mario,” she said.

“I mean, you’re the love of my life,” he said.

“Si, ey mi corazon es tuyo,” she said.

He looked at her some more. She looked at him some more.

“Laura Cruz,” he said, “will you marry me?”

She swallowed.

“Mario Perez,” she said, “first things first.”

“What?”

“Remember what I told you? Back at the base exchange?”

“About knowing when to kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“So you know I’m the right guy?”

“Yes.”

“But we already—”

“I kissed you ,” she said. “That does not count.”

He looked at her. She looked at him. They both grinned and fell into each other’s arms.

The Pumas rolled out the south gate onto the road, heading east toward Bucharest. Five minutes later they joined up with a Romanian military convoy that would escort them to their base.

Eyes closed, their lips together in a long, lasting kiss, Mario and Laura hardly noticed.

PART THREE

THREAT VECTOR

JANUARY 27–28, 2024

19

Various Locales

Harris snatched his cell off the dining room table on the first ring. At 7:30 a.m., he was sitting there fully dressed in a blue paisley shirt and brown plaid sport coat that had cost him an arm and a leg at a vintage clothing shop in Hoboken.

“Carol,” he said.

“Leo.”

“You at the airport?”

“Already heading into Manhattan,” she said.

“JFK?”

“White Plains,” she said. “I took an air shuttle. The detainee’s already arrived at the Terminal safe and sound.”

“When?”

“About an hour ago. Via a helicopter out of 84VA.”

84VA being the Federal Aviation Administration’s identifier for the otherwise-unnamed CIA heliport at the southeast end of the Campus.

Leo reached for his coffee, took a quick slug.

“I’ll head over there right now,” he said.

“As long as you’re up to it,” Morse said. “I gave you the option. But I ultimately want it to be your decision.”

Leo frowned.

“It’s my job,” he said. “What other option do I have?”

“Leo, please. Not now.”

“I’m just saying—”

“I know what you’re saying,” she said. “If I didn’t want you to participate in the interview, I wouldn’t have alerted you to the extradition. But I did as soon as it finally came through.”

He gulped down some more coffee. Participate. He didn’t like the sound of the word, not at all, but decided to let it pass for now.

“Where do we meet?”

“The Fusion Center,” she said. “There’s a small office on one side.”

“I know where it is.”

“Good,” she said. “Traffic’s pretty light on the Hutch. Fingers crossed it keeps moving, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Harris grunted.

“Catch you later,” he said, realizing Carol had already ended the call.

He frowned. Things were definitely hostile between them these days. Well, maybe hostile was too strong. But tense for sure.