Mike Maden - Drone Command

The club owner was a friend of Jianli’s, a Chinese national and fellow princeling seeking to make his way in the world beyond the reach of his own powerful and equally disapproving father. The club was a favorite of other wealthy Chinese expats along with an internationally diverse collection of well-heeled, fully entitled, disaffected youth. A wide variety of hallucinogens was available for purchase along with the finest selection of distilled spirits in central Europe. A three-star Michelin chef in the kitchen served up the best and priciest bar food anywhere.

Jianli’s two favorite bodyguards sat in the booth with him, sipping sparkling water and keeping a careful eye on their besotted charge. His studies at Humboldt University of Berlin were going well enough, but it was the nightlife that most intrigued the handsome nineteen-year-old, especially the wide availability of willing young women. Disko Dschungel was his prime hunting ground. The members-only club carefully recruited some of the most attractive and eager women on the continent by giving them access to some of Europe’s wealthiest and rebellious young men.

Jianli’s bleary eyes were captured by the leering gaze of a stunning blonde standing at the bar. Next to her was an equally spectacular mixed-race woman, smoky and lithe, who was also locking eyes with him. Jianli’s felt the heat rising in his loins. He whispered to one of his guards who slid out of the booth and made his way to the bar.

Thirty minutes later, the two scowling guards were standing at the bar while the two women sat with Jianli, bookends to his swelling libido. They devoured sweet buttery lobster and cold champagne between bouts of laughter and short teasing kisses. Jianli couldn’t believe his luck. He had enough experience with whores to know these weren’t paid professionals. They were fashion models shuttling between European capitals on an extended contract. They seemed genuinely interested in him and that was the most stimulating thing of all. Suddenly, two swift, skillful hands reached under the table and teased him with promises of pleasures still to come. A swift nod to his bodyguards, and the threesome fled the club, heading for the armored Mercedes limo parked in the basement.

The ancient freight-elevator doors creaked open and the guards stepped out first, heads on a swivel. The basement was clear of foot traffic and Jianli’s Mercedes limo was parked in a separate VIP area reserved just for him. One of the perks of being a regular as well as being the son of one of the most powerful men in China.

The guards nodded all clear and Jianli ushered the women out with him, his arms wrapped around their waists. They clung to him like drunken sailors on a pitching deck in a high storm, giggling and purring with each step. When they reached the limo, one of the guards opened the rear door and ushered Jianli in. When the blonde girl tried to enter, he blocked her with his hand.

“What the fuck is this?” she asked in slurred but effortless German.

The bodyguard spoke no German but easily inferred the question. He motioned with his fingers at her small clutch.

“Jianli! What’s this all about?”

Jianli leaned out. “Sorry, my love, but he’s just doing his job.”

The blonde glanced over at the other steely-eyed guard, certain that the bulge in his coat pocket wasn’t an oversize smartphone. He held a security wand in his hands. “Fine.” She handed him her purse and he fingered through it. Found her cell phone, pulled it out.

“Hey! You can’t have that!” She snatched it out of his hands.

“Sweet, if you want to come with me, you need to give him your phone. He’ll keep it safe in a special box. It blocks signals so that it can’t be used to track us, that’s all. He’ll give it back later, I promise.”

“I don’t know about all of this,” she said, as the other guard wanded her firm, curvy frame.

Jianli flashed his most charming smile. Rattled a pill bottle. “If you’re a good girl, I have some candy for you.”

That caught her attention. She reluctantly handed her cell phone over and climbed next to Jianli after the other guard gave his approving nod. The blonde scrambled in with a giggle and playfully climbed over Jianli’s lap to make room for her friend.

The other girl hesitated, apprehension gripping her stunning green eyes. Jianli tried to coax her in with his hypnotic smile. The dark-skinned girl was the one he truly wanted. She looked like a young Halle Berry, an effect she clearly cultivated with her tight-fitting clothes and short-cropped hair.

“Please?” he asked in English. The woman spoke no German.

“Don’t be such a baby. We’ll have so much fun!” the blonde said, laughing.

Jianli held out his hand. So did the blonde. “Maybe it will be like Barcelona.” Her eyes twinkled.

The dark-skinned woman allowed herself a small smile. “Gee, I hope not. I couldn’t walk for a week after that.” She dropped her cell phone into the bodyguard’s open hand and let the other one wand her down. After the all clear, she clambered in. The doors shut, the guards climbed in and the Mercedes sped out of the parking structure with tires squealing.

The Mercedes sped westward on the crosstown highway toward Jianli’s recently built high-rise penthouse in Charlottenburg. It was after two in the morning and traffic was light, especially at the usual exit for Loschmidstraße. Jianli had already popped a Viagra and was eager to go, but a police barricade on the deserted street brought them to a standstill. Police lights splashed against the windshield like blue strobes, and a beefy Berlin police officer flashed his bright LED light through the driver’s window, tapping the bulletproof glass with the heavy metal casing.

“Show him your papers,” Jianli commanded from the back. The sooner they got through this, the sooner he could get into action.

The reluctant driver hit the automatic-window button and lowered the glass, handing his passport and driver’s license out the window, never hearing the muffled pop of the silenced 9mm hollow-point bullet that blew his brains out.

At the sound of the muzzle blast, the blonde threw a sharp elbow into Jianli’s face, cracking the cartilage in his nose and blinding him with pain while the other woman stabbed his guard through the ear with a razor-sharp plastic blade.

The two women hustled young Jianli out of the backseat as the two other men posing as Berlin police made preparations to move the Mercedes and dump the bodies.

The blonde nodded at the blood on her friend’s hand. “You okay?”

“Not mine.” The dark-haired woman wiped her hand on Jianli’s tailored shirt, then carefully removed from his wrist the white-gold Patek Philippe watch he’d been fingering nervously all night. She knew it contained a tracking device. She smiled at the thought that some lucky homeless Berliner in urine-stained coveralls would soon be wearing a ten-thousand-dollar Swiss timepiece.

Thirty minutes later, the Mercedes was dismantled and parted out in a local Bosnian chop shop and the two Chinese corpses were incinerated by a crematorium under a blind contract with Mossad.

On the other side of town, Tamar Stern and her blonde comrade made the final arrangements for a live video broadcast from a safe house in a heavily treed suburb off Königstraße on the far west side of the German capital. Tamar covered herself head to toe in black athletic wear and a balaclava, and used brown contacts to hide her striking green eyes. She knew the moment the video feed went through that her life would be forfeit if the Chinese MSS ever discovered who she was. They might anyway. She was willing to take that risk.

Had to.