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I also wanted a chance to do some research on drones.

I was eating a turkey sandwich while reading about weaponized drones on my laptop when there was a knock on the door. I went to the peephole and looked out before opening it.

“Elvis? What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at the bachelor party.”

“I was. I am. And as far as parties goes, it’s awesome. Cigars, music, some alcohol—which I am not drinking, by the way—and good food. It’s low-key, and I’m hanging with people I actually like. However, I have a headache after my little bender. I’m pretty sure I’m dehydrated, so I’m guzzling water. Everyone wants to know why I keep going to bathroom like Basia. Knowing Basia’s secret, it’s kind of funny, but not really, because I’m scared I’ll let it slip.”

“I’m with you on that one,” I said. “Although I did tell Slash. He won’t say anything, though. He’s good at keeping secrets.”

“That he is. Anyway, since I’d temporarily left the party again, I thought I’d stop by and say hi to one of the two people I’m missing the most.”

I opened the door wider and ushered him in. “How’s it been going with Gwen since the proposal?

“Surprisingly great. I’m relieved she said yes, and I’m excited to take this next step in our relationship. Oddly, I’m not scared at all. Well, maybe a little, but I’m looking forward to it, too. I wanted to thank you for helping me. Sorry about the drinking and the shower thing.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad Gwen didn’t find me in there. You haven’t told anyone else about your engagement yet?”

“No. We decided to wait until after your wedding.”

“You don’t have to. I hope it’s okay that I told Slash about that, too.”

He looked a little nervous. “You didn’t tell him about the shower thing, did you?”

“He asked how I got wet, so, yes, I told him.”

“Just make sure you put a good word in for me, so he doesn’t beat me up.”

“He’s not going to beat you up. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Says the woman who doesn’t have to worry about it.” He peered over my shoulder to see what I was doing on my laptop. “Drones?”

“Yeah, I’ve been reading up on them.” I tapped on my keyboard. “Pretty cool, and pretty scary—at least the kind that went all suicidal on us.”

“Yeah, well, Xavier and I have been doing a little research of our own. Want me to tell you about it?”

“Sure, but don’t you have to get back to the party?”

He shrugged. “I do, but I canalwaystake a few minutes to talk drones with my best friend.”

I smiled. “That’s what I like best about you, Elvis.”

He lifted a hand to give me a high five. “Don’t I know it.”

THIRTY-TWO

Sergei Sokholov

Thursday morning—two days until the wedding

Sergei pulled the truck off the last paved road onto a graveled, pothole-pocked track that was precisely where it was supposed to be according to the aerial photos he’d reviewed online. It was two turns off the last main road and could barely be called a road. Still, it was wide enough to fit the truck, and the trees surrounding it offered enough overhead coverage to make him feel comfortable he wasn’t being observed. He supposed at one time the road might have led to a small scenic lookout, but it had long ago been replaced by a bigger one about a half mile farther up the road. Supposedly there was a hiking trailhead here, but he was hoping that it wasn’t in use in the late morning on a weekday. According to the guidebook he had researched, there were a lot of better trails, and he gambled that this one would be largely unused.

Its location perfectly suited his purposes.

He reached the trailhead where the “road” ended and climbed out of the truck. He was at the top of a hill, where the trees had thinned, and only heavy brush thrived. Bringing a pair of binoculars with him, he walked down a hill through the bushes toward a stream he knew existed. Shortly, he came to an open vantage where he had a clear view of the small stream that ran down the slope to the valley and then to St. Michael’s church nestled well below. He lifted the binoculars to his eyes and took time to completely surveil the area surrounding the church.

There were people walking around the church and carrying items inside. Clearly, preparations for the wedding had already begun, even though the ceremony would not occur for another two days.

He knew the Secret Service, the police, and possibly Vatican security would check the area near the church and the woods, looking for threats like hidden bombs or places where a sniper might hide. Protocol demanded they would block off any the road to the church, probably using local police, before establishing an inner security perimeter. But they likely wouldn’t seal the road that led to this spot. It would create a huge perimeter they couldn’t enforce. Many people had expensive homes in this area and popular recreation areas used the initial road he turned off to get here. So, while the locals would be blocked from the primary road accessing the church, they could still make their way up the hill to their homes. No way would the capitalists allow that to be shut down.