Chapter 11 - No One Is Expendable
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The drone feed showed a classified test facility in Nevada.
Thirty-two autonomous combat aircraft sat armed inside launch shelters.
Pendelton stared at the screen.
“Those systems are not operational.”
Ward answered.
“They are now.”
Rourke remained seated at the head of the table.
“For twenty years, our government built systems it was afraid to use.”
The President’s voice came through the secure speaker.
“Samuel, stand down.”
Rourke smiled.
“You still believe you are in command.”
“I am.”
“Then stop them.”
A countdown appeared.
11:00.
Eleven minutes.
The council chamber erupted.
Officials demanded explanations.
Security personnel tried the locked doors.
Nothing moved.
Rourke looked almost peaceful.
“The drones have independent targeting packages.”
Pendelton stepped toward him.
“Targets?”
“Directorate enemies.”
“Foreign?”
Rourke said nothing.
Ward went pale.
“Not all of them.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“The Directorate maintained a domestic threat list.”
Marcus’s face hardened.
“Journalists?”
Ward nodded.
“Investigators.”
Pendelton understood.
“Judges.”
“Members of Congress.”
The room went silent.
Rourke had built a kill list.
And now he intended to erase anyone capable of exposing the Directorate.
I moved toward him.
“Cancel it.”
“You misunderstand your position.”
“No.”
I pointed toward Buster.
“You misunderstood ours.”
Rourke almost laughed.
“A wounded captain, a corporal, and a dog.”
Marcus answered.
“You forgot Ward.”
Ward lifted the encrypted drive.
Rourke’s smile vanished.
The countdown reached nine minutes.
Pendelton grabbed the internal phone.
Dead.
No network.
Rourke had locked the chamber electronically.
I looked around.
No windows.
One main door.
One emergency exit.
Both sealed.
Buster suddenly began sniffing along the wall.
Marcus noticed.
“What is it?”
The dog scratched beside a ventilation panel.
Marcus crouched.
“Air return.”
I understood.
“Where does it go?”
An aide pointed toward the ceiling plans.
“Mechanical corridor.”
“Can Buster fit?”
Marcus looked at the vent.
“Yes.”
Pendelton shook his head.
“What can the dog do outside?”
I looked at Marcus.
Marcus looked at Buster.
“Find help.”
Rourke laughed.
“You are placing national security in the hands of an animal.”
Marcus removed Buster’s telemetry harness.
Then attached a small note to it.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
He opened the vent.
Buster looked at him.
“Find.”
The dog entered.
Disappeared.
The countdown showed seven minutes.
Rourke leaned back.
“This is embarrassing.”
I moved closer to him.
“You ordered Marcus abandoned because you thought Buster didn’t matter.”
“Vance did.”
“You approved it.”
Rourke’s eyes met mine.
“Yes.”
There was no regret.
That made something inside me settle.
No more questions.
No more trying to understand.
Some men did terrible things because they believed they were necessary.
Others did them because power had taught them nobody could stop them.
Rourke was both.
The timer reached five minutes.
A noise came from inside the wall.
Metal scratching.
Then barking.
Someone shouted from the corridor.
We heard tools.
Security officers outside had found Buster.
Rourke stood.
For the first time, anger broke through.
“No.”
The emergency door shook.
Again.
Again.
Then exploded inward.
Buster entered first.
Behind him came three federal tactical officers.
Marcus dropped to one knee.
“Good boy.”
Buster nearly knocked him over.
Pendelton shouted.
“Get us a line to Nevada.”
A tactical officer handed him a secure radio.
The countdown showed three minutes.
Pendelton contacted the Air Force test command.
No answer.
Ward grabbed the radio.
“Use maintenance frequency.”
Marcus gave him the number.
A technician answered.
Ward shouted authentication codes.
Then he froze.
“What?”
“They cannot disable the launch command.”
“Why?”
“Remote override.”
Rourke smiled.
Two minutes.
I stared at the drone feed.
Rows of aircraft.
Fuel systems.
Launch racks.
Then I noticed something.
“Marcus.”
“What?”
“The hangar doors.”
He looked.
“What about them?”
“They’re still closed.”
Ward understood.
“If the doors stay closed, the drones cannot launch.”
“Can the doors be manually disabled?”
The technician on the radio answered.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Emergency fire suppression locks.”
Marcus smiled.
“Buster.”
I looked at him.
“You have another dog in Nevada?”
“No.”
He grabbed the radio.
“But they do.”
Military working dogs were stationed at nearly every major base.
The Nevada technician confirmed a security K9 unit nearby.
Marcus gave instructions.
Not to the dog.
To the handler.
The emergency fire controls were behind a narrow utility passage inaccessible to adults without dismantling a wall.
But a working dog could reach it.
The countdown reached sixty seconds.
A handler named Sergeant Morales sent his German Shepherd, Rex, into the passage.
The live feed shook.
Thirty seconds.
Rourke stared at the timer.
“You cannot stop history.”
I looked at him.
“Watch us.”
Twenty seconds.
The Nevada technician shouted.
“Dog is at the panel.”
Ten.
“Need switch confirmation.”
Five.
Four.
Three.
Then the launch hangar doors slammed into emergency lockdown.
The drones activated inside sealed shelters.
Engines roared.
Nothing moved.
The countdown reached zero.
The aircraft remained trapped.
For several seconds, nobody breathed.
Then the President’s voice came through the radio.
“General Rourke.”
The general stared at the screen.
“You are relieved of command.”
Federal agents approached him.
Rourke looked around the chamber.
At Pendelton.
At Ward.
At me.
Then at Buster.
His face twisted.
“All this because of a dog.”
Marcus stood beside Buster.
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
“All this because you thought anyone was expendable.”
Agents placed Rourke in handcuffs.
For the first time since the mountains, I felt something loosen inside my chest.
But we were not finished.
Ward looked at the Directorate ledger.
“There’s one remaining account.”
Pendelton turned.
“Whose?”
Ward enlarged the entry.
The account name contained only one word.
JUDGE.
And the authorization record showed something impossible.
The account had been accessed ten minutes ago.
From inside the tribunal building.
May you like
Someone involved in the conspiracy had escaped the sweep.
Someone who had watched everything from the beginning.
