“Do they know what they have?” Blitz asked.

Edmund answered before Breanna could.

“The Raven control unit looks exactly like other UAV control units,” he said. “It would be impossible for them to know.”

“It actually looks quite different,” said Reid sharply. “And of course, the programming inside it is very different.”

Breanna gave him a slight tap with her foot under the table. He was doing exactly what he had sworn he wouldn’t do.

“These Africans are primitive,” said Harker. “That’s one of the reasons the region was chosen in the first place. They have no idea.”

“If they have no idea,” said Todd, “then why did they take the control unit?”

“American technology can always be sold. They’d sell a toaster if we dropped one there.”

“We have to assume that they can figure it out,” said Blitz. “Eventually. We need to get the unit back.”

“I agree with that,” said Edmund.

The President turned toward Breanna and Reid. “You’re confident that you can get it?”

“We’re reasonably sure,” said Breanna. “But it would be foolish to make guarantees. We don’t even have all the technical data on the flight computer. We’ve made our own assessments based on what its capacity is supposed to be, but quite honestly, the amount of information—”

“I’m sorry, I’m not following this,” said Bozzone, speaking for the first time. “Are you saying you don’t know what you’re looking for?”

“We haven’t been given a picture of it, let alone the technical details,” said Breanna.

“We didn’t see that as operationally necessary,” said Edmund. The tone of his voice made it clear he would have thrown a brick at Breanna if he had one.

“This doesn’t sound like a lot of cooperation,” said Bozzone. “At a time when everyone in the administration should be working together. How do you expect them to do their job if you’re not helping them?”

“There’s a certain amount of need to know—”

“Let’s cut to the quick here,” said the President. “Herman, you will cooperate. You will give Ms. Stockard and Mr. Reid whatever information they require. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“Now—this computer. How dangerous exactly is it?” asked the President.

“It has—unique capacities,” said Edmund.

“It’s essentially a virus that, once programmed to kill someone, will not stop trying to do just that,” said Reid. Breanna didn’t bother kicking him—she would have said the same thing. Edmund was being almost criminally evasive. “It’s very dangerous. If it’s released into the wild, so to speak—”

“Well, um, characterizing it as an, um, virus, that is not highly accurate,” said Pilpon. “It is, um, simply a set of instructions, carefully controlled. It has been hobbled—”

“But isn’t it true that the basic program is designed to adapt to its environment?” asked Reid.

“Yes.”

“Which means the program can go into any computer it’s hooked into—and by computer, I mean processing chip.”

“Well, not um, exactly. It couldn’t go into the chip in your car, for example. There are a large number—”

“If I had access to it, I could certainly figure out how to get it into another computer, couldn’t I?” asked Reid.

“I don’t know about that. The circumstances would be difficult.”

“Do the Africans who took the computer know this or not?” asked the President.

“We don’t believe so,” said Edmund.

“If they have it, it’s just a bunch of circuits to them,” insisted Harker. “It’s a toaster.”

The President frowned. “Mr. Edmund, I understand Congress wants to talk to you about Raven.”

“The Intelligence Committee has requested a briefing,” said Edmund.

Breanna expected a long discussion to follow. Instead, the President rose.

“You will not speak to them until we have recovered this unit,” she told him sternly. “Is that clear?”

“Very.”

“William, work out the details. Executive privilege, whatever road we have to take. Stall, then bring out the heavy guns. Breanna, Jonathon, please bring this to a successful conclusion quickly. Get it back. I’m sorry, I have to leave, I have other commitments. Thank you all for your time.”

Chapter 5

Duka

They were in the slog part of the mission—past the high excitement of combat, with a lot of work to be done, yet without the adrenaline.

A potentially dangerous time, when fatigue and boredom conspired to make even the most dedicated soldier cut corners.

Danny switched around the assignments to make sure the people searching the buildings had not been involved in the first searches. He personally checked on the different teams, riding back and forth in one of the captured pickups with Melissa. The city had fallen into a stupor, dead and wounded lying near sleeping, exhausted fighters.

“We should do something about that,” said Melissa after they passed a pair of rebels lying by the road. MY-PID, analyzing their body heat, reported that they were dead.

“Like what?” said Danny.

“Bury them, at least. I don’t know.” She shifted uncomfortably in the pickup. The seat belts had been cut away; neither could belt themselves in against the pothole-induced bumps and lurches. “I feel like we should do more.”

She was quiet for a while, then, without prompting, volunteered that she had been scared.

“It wasn’t the shooting,” she said. “It was the baby. I—I didn’t know what to do.”

“Bloom was there.”

“She was. She was panicking about everything except the baby. For me it was the other way around.”

“Everybody has a breaking point,” said Danny.

“I didn’t break. I might have. I could see it.”

“True,” said Danny.

“I didn’t think about them as people when I got here. But now, I see them and I think, oh my God . . .”

Melissa trailed off, silent. Danny wanted to say something but wasn’t exactly sure what.

“Maybe you realized why we fight,” he said finally, still unsure that he had the right words.

They continued in silence toward the warehouse they had hit the first night. Hera and one of the new Whiplash troopers, Shorty, were standing outside, waiting. They’d just finished searching it, with no sign of any of the missing UAV components. Hera and Shorty had also checked on two small buildings nearby, both deserted. Neither appeared to have been even entered by anyone for months if not years.

“Sorry,” Hera told him. She and Shorty got in the back.

“I shouldn’t have let the Osprey get hit,” Danny told Melissa as they drove back toward their camp.

“How is that your fault?”

“I could have kept it back.”

“Would it have been as effective?”

It was a good and obvious question, and one he wasn’t entirely sure how to answer. There was always a balance between taking action and being safe.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “But I guess I feel I should have told them to be more careful.”

“If someone told you that, would it have made any difference?”

“Probably not,” conceded Danny.

“I don’t see how you’re supposed to be perfect—doesn’t every plan get changed once the battle starts, or something like that?”

“Something like that.” Danny smiled. It was odd how suddenly he felt so comfortable talking to her.

Chapter 6

CIA Headquarters Campus

Jonathon Reid was about to open his car door in the Langley parking lot when a black government limo pulled up behind him. Reid knew exactly who it was, and could have guessed more or less accurately what was going to be said. He wanted to be anywhere but here, but there was no way to escape. He sighed to himself, then turned to face Herman Edmund as the rear window rolled down.