Finally, everything was peaceful and perfect once again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Charlie put on his headset and flipped the switch. “Colonel Edwards, are you with me?”
“Yes sir, Alpha Charlie.”
“Do we have a secure voice transmission?”
“Affirmative, sir. Be advised. Most of our Kandahar crew is now in Iraq, much closer to our new mission.”
“Do you have targets spotted right now?”
“Negative. We’re just going to perform the laser test today.”
“Understood.”
Edwards had already launched the MQ-1 from Peary. The Predator was flying over Virginia, waiting to test Weizman’s laser. Edwards instructed Charlie to sacrifice one of the government’s remote-control Jeeps in a practice field in Fort Eustis. Located thirty miles from Camp Peary, along the James River near Newport News, Fort Eustis was the U.S. Army’s transportation center.
Edwards’ voice came back on in the headset, “Are you all set for the test?”
“Roger that.”
Homeland Security was anxious to have the laser-equipped Predator ready for service in the skies over America, and Weizman was anxious to confirm that his laser could function on the aircraft as well as it had in his California laboratory. If the laser worked, a Hellfire missile would be his next test target. Successfully killing a Hellfire in mid-flight with the laser was a realistic goal for Weizman, or so he thought, and would open the gates for a laser defense system that could stop in-coming intercontinental ballistic missiles.
Charlie looked over his chair and identified the controls. When his chair had first arrived, Weizman had taken special pride in informing him that the laser controls were tucked underneath and out of the way. They could be activated simply by voice command. Charlie had worked with the voice recognition software for all of ten minutes before the computer understood him perfectly.
Charlie said, now, aloud: “Dee Eee controls.”
Two joysticks slowly rose from below the seat of the chair.
“Everything feels good,” Charlie told Edwards. “Give me your best figure-eight with the robotic Jeep.”
The drone flew at 30,000 feet over Camp Peary. The sighting was not as difficult as Weizman had led him to believe. Charlie concentrated and put the sights carefully on the swerving jeep, then fired. A brilliant white light rose from the hood. Charlie felt like he was looking into a camera’s flash, one that went off continuously for ten seconds. The jeep immediately went out of control and then flipped over in a huge cloud of dust. The laser fried the vehicle’s fuel injectors, alternator, fuel pump, onboard engine computer—everything. The intense heat melted the vinyl seats and then set the entire jeep on fire. The explosion that followed was not very impressive. There was only a gallon of fuel in the gas tank, per governmental agency frugality.
The jeep lay dead now, with a huge plume of black smoke billowing from its flaming hulk.
Colonel Edwards congratulated him. “Excellent shot, Mr. W—”
“CHARLIE!”
Alpha Charlie jumped to his feet before Edwards finished his sentence. Glaring at Edwards in the monitor, he said in a low, threatening tone. “You will refer to me only as ‘Charlie.’ My name is never to be said to anyone — not to your co-workers, the other drone operators, the officers in your unit — not even to the President of the United States.”
“Sorry, sir. It was a slip-up. It’ll never happen again… Charlie.”
“Colorado State Legislature Bans Civilian Drone Ops”
DENVER POST
DENVER, CO The State Legislature has passed a resolution prohibiting the placement of civilian drone control centers in the state of Colorado. At odds with the Air Force’s huge presence in the state, the legislative body has taken the token step of bringing a non-binding bill to the floor. Colorado State Senator, Frank Teig, sponsor of the bill, said, after the vote, “We’re aware of the fact that there aren’t any civilian contractors working in the U.S., but in light of recent attacks, we just wanted to make an important statement.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Scott,” Keyes called out, as she entered the waiting room.“Scott!”
She moved quickly through the office. Reaching the OR, she stopped dead in her tracks. A chair had been smashed against a wall and the Bovie electrocautery machine was on its side on the floor. An instrument table was upside down and lying on the anesthesia cart. Surgical instruments, medications, and supplies were strewn all over the counter tops and floor.
Keyes raced to the recovery room and screamed when she saw James’ body on the floor. She kneeled and felt for a pulse. It was weak, almost imperceptible. In a moment of uncertainty, she paused before slapping his cheeks, hard. “Scott! Wake up!” There was no response. His face was pale gray.
Keyes placed her lips on his, squeezed his nostrils shut, and began blowing air into his lungs as hard as she could. His body twitched. She compressed his chest several times, and then resumed the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. After her first blow, he tried to breathe, but his airway was obstructed. Keyes shoved her hand deep down his throat and mopped out thick mucous. He inhaled with the heavy snore of a partial blockage.
Bottles and vials of medications were scattered all around. She recognized the empty succinyl-choline bottle and sighed relief at the large volume of unused medication still in the syringe in his arm. He’d injected less than 1 cc; the lethal dose was 5 cc’s. She jerked the syringe from the IV and threw it against the wall. She quickly looked at the labels on the drug vials, throwing them aside until she had the one she wanted: Narcan. It was a potent drug that reversed the actions of sedatives. She drew 10 cc’s in a syringe and stuck it his vein. She injected half of it, paused briefly, then shrugged and injected the entire bolus.
She used a catheter to suction the back of his throat and trachea, removing gobs of thick, white mucous. He started breathing easier.
She wiped the tears from her eyes and dragged James over to the anesthesiology machine. It was connected to three tanks: oxygen, nitrous oxide, and air. Holding his chin up, she put her mouth over his and blew her breath into his lungs six times. Then she fumbled with gas lines and placed the oxygen mask on James’ face. She grabbed the black balloon and squeezed as hard as she could. No oxygen moved into his lungs. The airway was still blocked.
Her heart pounded fast in her chest. She’d read about all these maneuvers and helped others do them several times in Houston, but never before had she performed them by herself.
Removing the mask, Keyes again reached her small hand deeply down his throat. His tongue was inverted. The succinyl-choline had relaxed the tongue and it had fallen back in the pharynx and was choking him. She pulled it back into his mouth. With trembling hands, she placed a plastic airway in his mouth to push the tongue forward. She quickly reattached the mask and squeezed the bag as hard as she could with both hands. Success! His lungs filled with air! Sweat dripped from her face and covered her entire body.