Game of Drones (17 page)

He checked his watch. Then he closed his eyes to blink back tears that were brought on by a rush of deep emotions.

Usmani loved his country. But he loved his politics even more. He had allowed his feelings for one to take precedence over the other, and by doing so, had ignited the fuse that would ultimately send Pakistan into a downward spiral.

He dropped the Murree to the floor, cradled his head into his hands, and pulled his hair so hard that blood appeared between clenched fingers. He sobbed.
What have I done?
he thought, his inner voice screaming.

What . . . have I . . . done?

#

Parliament House Building
Islamabad, Pakistan

The time difference between Pakistan and Washington D.C. was nine hours. The evening had grown late in Islamabad.

Before the church bells tolled in a new day at midnight, the prime minister and several of his aids, along with a slew of body guards, descended the steps to an awaiting car. The day had been full of compromises and tough deals. The only unyielding issue about which there was no discussion or debate was that of Zawahiri. He was to be handed over to the Americans without fail. In the prime minister’s mind this was the beginning of a new era for Pakistan, a stepping stone toward garnering the good graces of the world community.

The prime minister made the final step to the waiting vehicle and the rear door was opened by the chauffer, who stood regimentally straight with his eyes forward. When the prime minister stooped to get inside the vehicle, the chauffer raised his hand to reveal a detonation switch.

As the guards raised their weapons, the prime minister looked at his driver with disbelief. His aides took stock of the situation rapidly but were still unable to respond in time. The driver held the button down, screaming ‘
Allahu Akbar
.’

The car went up as a massive fireball that turned night into day, the concussion of the blast extending outward in all directions and taking out every window for more than a block.

In total, sixteen people lost their lives, including that of the prime minister.

#

The explosion at the Parliament House Building would not be the only blast to rock Islamabad that night. Just a few blocks away at the Islamabad Stock Exchange, or ISE building, a car filled with explosives detonated, shearing off one side of the structure, revealing torn floors and ruined walls. Broken water pipes gushed to the levels below. Sparks from severed electrical wires crackled, sending out blue-white embers of light before dying in mid-air. Fires ignited on every floor.

Although no one had been killed due to the lateness of the hour, it would be quite some time before the flagship of Pakistan's economic system was open again for business.

#

The Islamabad railway station was also closed at such a late hour. But al-Qaeda was determined for it to remain that way.

Charges had been set along the tracks, north and south. This site detonated in concert with the other two explosions--the three target sites going off with precision timing--twenty seconds apart from first to last.

Islamabad's intercity public transit routes were no more.

#

From fifty miles away and from behind locked doors, Ayman al-Zawahiri was making a statement.

En Route

Chancellor ‘Chance’ Zanetti, the former Delta Force operator who felt most comfortable with a knife in his hand when facing his enemy, was the only OUTCAST member who vacated his previous position by choice.

When Chancellor served with Delta he was a Black Hawk pilot, also known as a Night Stalker, who served with Delta Force’s 160
th
Special Operations Aviation Regiment. Night Stalkers were classified as elite pilots who were trained to push their Blackhawks to the limit as well as to manage their choppers under strict requirements. But
when it came time to re-up for a second term, Chance decided that civilian life would suit him better. He did miss the action of the battlefield, though, so in Tanner he found the best of both worlds--the right to serve as an independent soldier, and to do so on home-front operations.

Though leaving Delta Force was difficult, he never regretted the change of venue or the shift in command with Tanner helming the missions. Now, with Nay soon to be his wife, Chance couldn’t be happier. Although he and Naomi had never spoken of marriage until late, they did talk about having children and owning a home that was surrounded by flowering fields and a small pond stocked with fish. They also talked about breeding and raising horses—a life that could be dreamed about but seldom achieved. And their kids, all their kids, would grow up as fine people and go to college. They, too, would graduate to become great people who would make significant contributions to society.

They had dreams.

Others called them goals.

But it was a dreamscape that he and Nay endeared themselves to with every intention of fulfilling.

He found Nay to be absolutely beautiful. He was truly blessed. The ring was the symbolic commitment that he was about to spend the rest of his life with this woman. It was also the first rung of the ladder to their goals.

They would have their children and raise their horses. They would own a home surrounded by a riot of colorful flowers and fish for gargantuan-sized trout in a pond on the property.

And when they reached that level, then they would set new goals.

Yes,
he thought.
I’m truly blessed
.

#

Tanner Wilson was driving at speeds between eighty to eighty-five miles per hour toward their location when he lowered his lip mike. “Danielle?”

“Yeah, Tanner.”

“Patch me in to John Casey.”

“Sure.”

After several clicks and nearly a minute having gone by, the two were finally connected.

“Tanner,”
said the FBI Director.

“John, we may have found Shazad.”

“Where?”

Tanner read off the coordinates to him. Then: “There’s a strip of rural roadway, about three hundred feet, that’s hidden beneath camo-netting. Danielle caught what she believes to be the contrail of a Reaper.”

“Do you have its trajectory?”