But last night was the best sleep he had in years. He felt alive and exhilarated. Who would have guessed that the death of someone would bring so much life back into someone else?
His mission crew had reassembled for the final part of the mission, the extraction phase.
“Were there any problems during the day?” Hail asked his mission specialists.
Pierce Mercier, who had stayed most the day to observe the events that had taken place after Chang had gone down, reported, “No. None whatsoever. The response was just what we predicted. Slow. After several hours, the North Korean Security Police arrived and went through all the commonsense steps. They started by searching the grounds and of course found nothing. None of them wanted to venture into the thorny bushes where Led Zeppelin is hidden. They cuffed Chang’s girlfriends and his servants and yelled at them as they smacked them all around a little. Then they took them all away. The same men removed Chang’s body. The house was left as it was and there hasn’t been anyone back on the property since that time.”
“Good,” Hail said. He removed a mug of coffee from a holder on his chair and took a sip.
“What’s the status of Foghat?” Hail asked, setting the cup back in its hole.
Tanner Grant answered.
“I’m circling about two miles south, southwest of the compound. I made a couple of passes over the property and everything is nice and quiet. There is nothing moving down there but squirrels, chipmunks and some rats are licking up Chang’s blood under the table.”
“I hope they don’t get glass in their little tongues,” Hail quipped.
The rest of the crew chuckled. Gruesome, but funny. That was the mental space they were in. Each person in the room had their own reason for wanting Chang dead, but they all agreed on one thing. They all wanted Chang dead. And he was. The aftermath was just that. Simple Math. Lots of monsters, minus one monster, makes one less monster on the planet.
“Who wants to go first?” Hail asked.
“Let me get Aerosmith out of this tree before any wind comes up,” Knox suggested.
“OK with me,” Hail told him. “Feel free to clear Aerosmith when you’re ready.”
Knox pulled the control surfaces in front of him and brought up Aerosmith’s control panel on his monitor. He took a moment to check power levels, communications and then spun the rotors to make sure they were free of obstructions.
Hail brought up the video from Aerosmith’s camera onto the big screen above Knox. Just like all the other drones, the night vision camera was powered on and the screen was green.
“Damn am I sick of green,” Hail commented to no one in particular.
“And…” Knox sung out. The and was long and Knox drew it out for several seconds before he terminated the phrase with the words, “we’re up.”
“I think the fastest way out is forward,” Knox said to himself.
Knox worked the controllers, making tiny adjustments as he crept the aircraft forward inch by inch. It was critical to the mission that all three micro-drones made it back to Led Zeppelin intact. If they crashed and were discovered, then not only would the technology fall into the wrong hands, but the North Koreans would know that someone on the outside had killed their General. It was better all the way around if they suspected that Chang was killed by one of their own. The North Korean government operated like the ancient Roman government so many hundreds of years ago. If someone didn’t like their boss or they felt the need for advancement, they would simply kill their boss and move into the vacated position. So casting suspicion inside the North Korean government helped to fuel their own death machine. Paranoia was a great catalyst of death.
Hail had a great deal of respect for his pilots. He didn’t think he could do what Knox was doing right now. Take for example the tree. The pine needles were green. The screen was green. The tree was green. The night-vision optics were green. Hail didn’t understand how the young pilot could determine how to fly through minor shades of green. The air was one shade of green and the darker hue was that of a solid object that could turn Aerosmith into a very expensive weed-wacker.
“Almost out,” Knox said, afraid he might be jinxing himself. Twelve hours ago he had been flying B-52s out of the tree and that hadn’t turned out all that well.
“I’m out,” Knox reported. “Unless some huge frickin pterodactyl flies down and takes me away to feed to its babies, then the rest should be easy.”
And it was.
Less than sixty seconds later, Knox slowly lowered Aerosmith down onto the frame of Led Zeppelin and then locked it in place.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Knox boasted.
“Great job,” Hail told his pilot.
“Are you ready to go, Oli,” Hail asked Oliver Fox.
Fox had been the original pilot that had flown the micro-hub known as Styx onto the top of the power pole.
“I still have eyes on the house. I think it would be better if I stayed and watched until Stones gets out.”
“That makes sense,” Hail agreed.
Hail swiveled his chair in the direction of Paige Grayson.
“Are you ready to go, Paige?” Hail asked the pilot of Stones.
The young woman responded, “Yes, Sir. I’ve already run pre-flight diagnostics and everything looks good. The only problem we may have is the damn sprinklers are on, so I’m going to blow some water around.”
“Is the water going to cause any flight issues?” Hail asked.
Grayson shook her head and grabbed on to the controllers.
“It shouldn’t. We have tested the ground laying drones in these types of conditions. If it was raining cats and dogs, I would say wait it out. But all I have to do is gain four feet and I’m out of the water.”
“Let’s do it then,” Hail ordered.
Hail switched Stones’ camera over to the big screen. There wasn’t much to see until the craft rose a few inches above the grass line.
“Alright,” Grayson said, moving her controls, rotating the drone clockwise while it was still ascending. “Now we’re in business.”
Hail watched more shades of green dance around on the screen. He could tell that Stones was at least fifteen feet in the air and still climbing. The pool came into view and a moment later Stones was looking down on the white house below.
“This sure is a squirrely little drone to fly,” Grayson commented. “But it’s still fun.”
To Hail it was like he was watching the movie from yesterday in reverse. He now saw the grass and then the electric fence and then wild growth and then the four infrared diodes that glowed white on top of Led Zeppelin.
As smooth as silk, Grayson approached, hovered, set down, locked on and turned off the power to Stones.
“Two onboard,” Hail said.
“Alright, Oli. Let’s make it three for three.”
Since Styx was taking off from the easiest launch point, it only took Fox a couple of minutes to dock Styx to the back of Zeppelin.
“Not to minimize all your efforts,” Hail said in an apologetic tone, “but that was the easy part. Are we ready for the hard part?”
No one said no, so Hail pressed forward with the extraction.
“It’s important that we get the timing right on this,” Hail warned his crew.