Mike Maden - Drone Command

Here goes nothing.

“She said Guo? Zhao?” Pearce asked, frowning at Feng through a swelling eye.

Feng nodded. “Yes.”

The woman stared daggers at Pearce, listening intently.

“Hard to say. I’ve killed a lot of Chi-coms in my day. You kinda all look the same to me.”

The woman slapped him three more times. One of her jagged fingernails scraped across Pearce’s cheek, drawing blood. Her face was so close to his he could smell her rancid breath.

“Crikey, lady. Ever heard of Listerine?”

“Have you ever heard of manners, you filthy white bastard?” she asked in faultless English.

Pearce was shocked. Should’ve guessed she was bilingual. “What?”

WHACK!

The hulking Mongolian goon laughed at Pearce, muttered something in Mandarin.

Pearce tasted copper. He spit. Bloody drops hit the cement floor. He turned to the goon. “What’s so funny, numb nuts?”

“You,” Feng said. “He thinks a middle-aged woman is going to beat the big American to death with her bare hands. He’s probably right.”

Pearce flashed a bloody grin. That’s the idea .

The woman got in Pearce’s face and screamed, clenching her fists. Veins bulged in her forehead as flecks of her spittle splattered on his chin. He stared at her crooked yellow teeth with an insolent smile.

The barrel-shaped woman deftly reached inside a coat pocket and produced a spring-loaded blade. In a single move, she snicked it open and plunged it straight at Pearce’s throat. He stared hard at her. Wouldn’t let her see him flinch.

Fuck you, lady. See you in hell .

Feng’s hand caught her wrist at the last possible second, the blade an inch from Pearce’s jugular. She howled in protest as Feng pried the knife out of her hand. The security guard rushed over and wrapped a massive arm around her throat, twisting her other flailing hand behind her back. Firm enough to restrain her but gentle enough to not cause the prominent scientist injury.

Feng barked an order and the goon wrestled her toward the steps, but not before the woman managed a swift kick into Pearce’s shin, cursing in Mandarin at the top of her lungs. Even after the heavy metal door clanged shut at the top of the winding staircase, Pearce could hear her howling.

“You need to teach your wife some manners, Feng.”

“Dr. Weng is not my wife.”

Pearce looked Feng up and down, grinned. “Yeah. You look like the kind of guy who eats his noodles from the other side of the bowl.”

“Excuse me?”

“Doesn’t matter. What was her problem?”

“You killed two of her colleagues while in Africa, Guo and Zhao.”

“An occupational hazard. For them, I mean.”

“It is written, ‘He that lives by the sword, dies by the sword.’”

“Depends who’s got the bigger sword. Want to compare?”

“We both know you’re CIA.”

“Former. I’m a private contractor now.”

“A convenient cover. The CIA doesn’t let field agents quit. This is well-known.”

“Well-known? Where? In comic books?”

“You came here to spy.”

“On what? The Wu-14? You invited us here, remember? Bad way to keep a secret, inviting a former American president and a former CIA operative to see the damn thing. But we both know you don’t want it kept secret. Just the opposite.”

“You came here to steal the Wu-14.”

“Steal it? How? By shoving it up my poop chute and waddling out of here?” Pearce flashed a mischievous grin. “That’s more up your alley, isn’t it? Pardon the pun.”

Feng’s eyes narrowed, waiting for his rage to pass.

“Why are you here, then?”

“I’m providing security for President Myers. She refuses Secret Service protection.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She likes her privacy.”

“If you’re her security, I’d say you failed.”

“Me? You’re the one in deep shit. President Lane won’t take kindly to kidnapping an American citizen.”

“A citizen? I thought you were his friend.”

Pearce shrugged, wincing at the pain in his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“A friend of the president’s who happens to be a CIA agent on a secret mission, spying on the People’s Republic.”

“I think we covered that already.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Feng asked.

“If you don’t already know, I’m sure as hell not going to break the bad news to you—”

WHACK!

Feng’s delicate, well-manicured hand slapped Pearce’s face.

“Dr. Weng wants to kill you,” Feng said. “I’m tempted to let her.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I personally abhor violence. I’m a businessman. I prefer to negotiate.”

“So let’s negotiate. Let me out of these cuffs, and we can talk.”

“If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’ll let Dr. Weng slit your throat. Or worse.”

“Go ahead, but only if you want the wrath of the U.S. military to fall on your head.”

The vice chairman laughed. “Now who’s the idiot? Ever heard of Dr. Afridi? Sergeant Hekmati? Reverend Abedini? Your government is notorious for leaving their people behind, sometimes indefinitely.”

Pearce knew the names well. The first was the Muslim doctor sentenced for treason and left to rot in a Pakistani jail after helping the United States find and kill Osama bin Laden. The second was an American marine sergeant abandoned in an Iranian jail for years. The third was an American Christian cleric seized and tortured by Iranian thugs. All three incidents were stains on America’s honor. In each case, the American government held the cards it needed to play to win their release. Pakistan was a corrupt regime heavily dependent on American largesse to survive. Iran had other vulnerabilities.

“A previous administration. Lane is different. Think Teddy Roosevelt.”

“We both know who really runs your government. The puppet masters who pull the strings would never allow Lane to upset the apple cart.”

“You don’t know Lane. And you shouldn’t mix metaphors.”

“I know that trillions of dollars in trade, loans, and profits all depend upon a healthy relationship between China and the United States. Do you think the worthless life of a single American CIA spy is worth all that?”

“There are things even more valuable than money, even in a capitalist society.”

“You’re quite right. Knowledge is far more valuable than money, in any society. And you have some of the most valuable knowledge of all.”

The heavy steel door swung open. The security goon slipped back in and shut it behind him. One of his eyes was shut and purpling.

Pearce laughed. “Hey, tough guy. Punching above your weight class again?”

The Mongolian glowered at Pearce as he trotted down the staircase.

Pearce motioned with his pinned wrists. “Yeah, Lurch. C’mon, untie my hands. Let me show you what a real punch feels like.”

The security guard muttered under his breath and stepped toward Pearce, flexing his massive hands.

Feng shouted an order and the Mongolian froze in his tracks, then retreated to his spot in the corner. Feng turned back to Pearce. “You’re a drone expert. There’s much you can teach us.”

“I’m no expert. I don’t invent the damn things. I just run a contracting company. We deploy drones, sure, but mostly off-the-shelf stuff.”

“Dr. Weng told me your company is the best in the world at what it does.”

“And she’d be right.”

“Is that why you’re in Japan? To give Japan advanced drone technology?”

“Like I told you, I just came to provide President Myers with personal security.”

“And what is her mission?”

“You’d have to ask her. Far as I could tell, it was just business. You know, filthy capitalism. Just like you billionaire commie bastards love.”