He couldn’t see the spot itself but knew it must be near where the pipes came out into the elevator shaft. He took direct control of UAV 7, and told it to strike the plotted position on the map.

He barely had time to select the IR feed from the aircraft before it blew up.

The computer flew UAV 8 through the hole into the main laboratory area, a large, irregularly shaped room over 6,000 square feet. Rather than allowing it to fly on its preprogrammed route, Turk instead used the bulk of the microengine’s fuel to boost speed to fifty knots. He placed the aircraft in an orbit at the ceiling, flying parallel to the walls.

The room was lit; at least he had that.

He also had activity in it, which was unexpected.

The last six UAVs had already started downshaft.

Turk now had to locate the entrance to the test chamber. While the images were being analyzed, he spotted a room with a red door and a number of warnings in Arabic and, surprisingly, English.

That had to be it.

There were four or five people in the main lab, and he saw one pointing at the aircraft as it swung around.

“Unit 8, Destroy Door ID 2-3,” he told the computer. The screen view changed, blurring to red, then a cloud of gray, then black.

An infrared image of the shaft above replaced the feed automatically as the control unit shifted the lead view to UAV 9. Turk had the swarm orbit the main lab room, then selected UAV 10, the aircraft with the gamma detector, and sent it and UAV 9 into the room behind the destroyed red door, a triangular-shaped chamber nearly 350 feet long and about fifty wide.

There was no indication from the detector. Aside from a few crates, the room appeared empty.

Fortunately, it was big enough for the UAVs to orbit in a holding pattern. Turk gave that command, then directed UAV 11, another infrared sensor robot, to destroy the other door, back in the main lab, this one green. He returned UAVs 9 and 10 back to the main room. As UAV 10 entered the room with the green door, it picked up trace radiation.

Not enough for material. In fact, it was so low it could have been a trace residual—the lingering radioactivity of workers who’d been near a small amount of material.

The green-door chamber was a rectangle that sank about a hundred feet farther into the earth. The floor area was approximately two hundred by five hundred feet wide. At the center Turk saw a cluster of workbenches; a spiderweb of shelving lined the west wall. Catty-corner to these shelves were a set of laboratory hoods and what in the infrared looked like stacks of small ovens and television sets.

“Analyze,” he told the Whiplash computer, which was receiving a visual feed from his unit.

“Chemical mixing facilities, baking and shaping frames noted,” declared the computer a few seconds later. “Explosive manufacturing.”

The construction area for the explosive lens needed to construct a bomb?

“Calculate optimum explosion to destroy lab area Subbase 5-D,” he told the computer. “Execute.”

The swarm, which had been moving up and down in the room, suddenly retreated, flying back up into the main lab.

“What the hell?” yelled Turk, as if the control unit were human.

In the next second, he saw the lead nano-UAV darting toward a large round cylinder. Then the screen flashed white.

The feed from the NASA plane showed him what had happened—the UAVs had caused a massive explosion on a supply of bottled gas in the main lab area, which in turn caused secondary explosions throughout the rest of the facility. The pressure from the chamber where the explosives were manufactured ruptured one of the support girders above the lab, then the entire facility collapsed.

A perfect hit, except that they hadn’t found the nuclear material they were looking for.

27

CIA campus, Virginia

BREANNA WATCHED THE FEED FROM THE WB-57, which was focused on the area above the Iranian weapons lab known as Site Two. What looked like a puff of white smoke rose from the area where the UAVs had entered; it turned into a steady stream, something approximating a faucet. Two clouds appeared, at what had been the doorways to the facility. Then the ground between them cratered.

“Seismograph?” she asked.

“Not a nuke,” reported Teddy Armaz. “Site Two is completely destroyed. Attack on Site One is under way.”

“It was only an explosives lab,” said Rubeo, standing next to Breanna. “They’ll rebuild it in a month.”

The surveillance aircraft shifted its flight pattern, extending its figure-eight orbit farther west. Breanna looked at the screen at her workstation, where the remaining UAVs were cataloged. All but the Hydra lost early on the mission were accounted for and in good shape.

Turk had done an excellent job improvising on Site Two; she felt confident he would do well with Site One. Some of the bands of tension that she’d felt tighten around her chest began to loosen. They were going to do this; he was going to get out.

“NASA asset has trouble,” said Armaz up front.

“What’s going on?” Breanna asked.

“RWR—stand by.”

RWR stood for “radar warning receiver”—the aircraft was being tracked by Iranian radars. That in itself didn’t mean anything, but it presaged Armaz’s next warning.

“System 300 tracking them—there’s a flight at long range. Two MiG-29s coming from the west.”

“They’re not in Iranian airspace.”

“They’re being challenged.”

The unarmed reconnaissance aircraft was out of the range of the System 300, a sophisticated Russian antiaircraft missile system that had been acquired with Croatia’s help. But the MiG-29s were another story. Though flying very high, the WB-57 was vulnerable to their radar missiles once they neared the border. The ground radar would direct the interceptors to its vicinity; once close, they would be able to fire.

“He’s going to have to get out of there,” added Armaz. “The MiGs are already looking for them—their attack radars are active and they are closing fast.”

Breanna glanced at Rubeo. Turk had relied on the feed from the WB-57 to improvise the attack on Site Two. The next attack was even more complicated—and that was if everything went right.

“Those MiGs are attempting to lock on,” said Armaz. “They’re only a few seconds away.”

“Get him out of there,” Breanna said. “Give me Turk.”

28

Iran

TURK GLANCED UP, MADE SURE GREASE WAS STILL AT the edge of the ledge, then turned his full attention back to the attack on Site One. Two UAVs had already blown through the preliminary barriers; he had fifteen left.

The plan required fourteen. One for good luck, he thought.

Something was wrong with the WB-57; a message declared the feed off-line.

“Turk, Ms. Stockard wants to speak to you,” said Paul Smith, who was handling communications back in Virginia.

“Go ahead.”

“Turk, we’re taking the radar plane off-line temporarily,” said Breanna. “He’s being attacked.”

“OK. All right.”

“We’re working on it.”

“OK. I need to go.” He switched off the coms and took stock of the UAV swarm. In addition to the fifteen now hurtling toward the facility, there was one more at the far edge of the screen, designated as UAV 18, not yet under his control. He wasn’t sure why it was so far behind, but he made a mental note and went back to the attack swarm.

The lead UAV descended through the air exhaust vent, plunging toward a chamber that had been identified as a cafeteria space earlier. Designated UAV 3, it hit the grill protecting the space, but did not explode; Rubeo’s people had calculated it could get by the grill without needing to do so. It zipped across the room at high speed, banking so it could enter a corridor that led to another passage downward. Here, it struck a machine that worked an air-conditioning zoning mechanism. As it exploded, the vents connected to the unit sprung open, clearing the way for the rest of the swarm to enter through a different passage just above the cafeteria space.