by a dust sheet. When Shiran slid off the sheet, Fazeel’s electronic unit was revealed.
The other three stood back, smiling, as he examined it, first walking around it, then focusing his attention on the detail of the control console. He was familiar with the keyboards and monitors. Though some of the other components were new to him, his keen intellect absorbed the layout, quickly assimilating the schematics.
“Can you understand it all?” Qazi asked.
“I will learn. It will not be difficult.”
“I think he’s fallen in love,” Shiran said.
“Will it do what we require?” Qazi pressed.
“I would be able to give you a better answer if I knew exactly what it was for.”
“A mystery to be revealed,” Qazi said. “Come.”
They took him to the far end of the warehouse, where a plastic-sheeted section had been constructed. The closest panel was pulled aside and they all stepped through.
Fazeel got his first look at the Barracuda.
It had a sleek aerodynamic configuration. A slim fuselage, with a generous wingspan. The engine was mounted at the rear, encased in a smooth pod of metal. Fazeel noticed immediately there was no facility for a pilot. No cockpit. A number of antennae and probes extruded from the smooth, silver-gray finish. It stood on a fixed, slender undercarriage and wheels.
“A UAV,” Qazi explained. “An unmanned aerial vehicle. Also called drones.”
“A robotic aircraft,” Fazeel said. “They can be programmed via a control center.”
“Like the one you have just seen,” Ahmad said.
“And with this machine we will bring about the colonel’s plan?”
“I believe the colonel prefers to call it his operation,” Qazi said. “He is very precise about these things.”
“Where did you get this thing?” Fazeel asked.
“We acquired it,” Qazi said. “For now that is all you need to know. What you must do is study all the manuals that came with the machine. Learn to master the complexities of the control module, because, brother, one day you will sit at that console and make the drone do what we want.”
Fazeel was presented with thick printed manuals and a set of DVD discs.
“Tomorrow the drone will be disassembled and packed into protective crates for the journey to Pakistan,” Qazi said. “The control module will also be packed. You will not see it again until you arrive in the country yourself. Between now and the end of your journey you will have learned everything needed to make the drone fly to the targets we designate. Fazeel, you have been chosen because your computer skills are excellent. You understand, and you have the intellect to make the Barracuda do whatever you want.”
“I won’t let you down, brother,” he said. “Or the colonel.”
“We will find you a quiet, safe place where you can concentrate on your studies. Ahmad and Shiran will stay with you and see you are provided for. Now, is there anything you need to help with your studies?”
“Writing pads and pens. Most importantly a top-of-the-range laptop computer. It must have a large-capacity hard drive. USB connections. And a number of flash drives, again with large storage capacities.”
Qazi nodded. “All these things will be provided. Anything you require. The colonel has ordered that you must have the best.”
Fazeel found it hard to conceal his rising excitement. He stared at the UAV, understanding that he alone would control this machine. Make it carry out the tasks asked of him. It was a great responsibility. Only for a second did he feel inadequate to the task. The feeling quickly vanished. The colonel had entrusted him with the operation. It was a great honor. He would not let Rahman down. He would prove his worth. To the cause and to himself.
Gwadar Port, Balochistan, Southwest Pakistan
“THE CARGO HAS ARRIVED, Colonel,” the caller said. “The freighter docked last night. The goods are being unloaded even as we speak.”
“All in good order?”
“Yes, Colonel. The voyage was without incident.”
“And the freight aircraft?”
“Ready at the airfield. It will take off once the cargo is on board.”
“Good news indeed. Once it arrives we can step up the operation.”
CHAPTER ONE
The White House, Washington, D.C.
The President of the United States waited in uneasy silence while Hal Brognola read through the assembled data. The two men were alone in the Oval Office. The President had made it known he was not to be disturbed for any reason less than the imminent outbreak of total war.
Hal Brognola, director of the Stony Man SOG organization, was aware of the other man’s close scrutiny. He did not allow it to intimidate him. He read the file, absorbing much of the detailed information as he went through it. Later he would reread and assimilate the data so he could assign his people to the operations that would follow. Now he needed talking points he could discuss with the President.
Brognola laid the file back on the desk.
“And you want Stony Man to take this on board why?”
The President kept a straight face. Brognola’s response might have been judged a little out of order, but the President understood the big Fed’s question. He knew how Brognola worked—always direct, respectful to his commander in chief, but wanting specifics when it came to committing his teams to the field.
“The U.S. is on a high wire where Pakistan is concerned. Trying to keep the administration on our side as an ally and at the same time keeping a watchful eye on elements in the country who would like nothing better than to see us kicked out. The extremists see the U.S. as opportunists with an eye on the main chance. Plenty of people over there simply don’t like us. Don’t like what we stand for, and see America as an imperialistic nation that wants Pakistan as just another stepping stone in a long-term plan to subjugate their corner of the world.
“That’s not the way we see things, Hal. Yes, we have an interest in the country and the area. I don’t see our involvement as anything but prudent, given how the extremists want al Qaeda and the Taliban to gain a greater foothold in the region. I see our obligation to the Pakistani president clearly. He’s doing what he can to hold things down, but he has people in his administration who are sympathetic to the extremists. And we know only too well how dedicated these extremists are.”
The President tapped the file on the desk. “These assassinations are an undeclared act of aggression against the U.S.A. There has been an internet posting stating that the killings are just to show us we can be hurt wherever we are. That the U.S. and its rabid allies have no protection from the followers of Allah. The details they put in the postings reveal they had in-depth information on the people murdered. They claim this is only a beginning and suggest what might follow when the curtain goes up. This
