Page 10 of V-Day

Strickland hesitated.

“Explain it to her, Colonel,” Collins pressed.

“Yes, sir.” Strickland stepped back into the screen, not quite hiding the President from Parris’ view. He did not look happy. “Four hours ago, an unidentified craft entered US airspace south-west of New Orleans. It did not respond to hails. Fighter jets were scrambled and flew by. The craft is a General Atomics Predator C drone. It is one of ours, Captain, only it is not in our control.”

Parris moistened her lips. “I wasn’t aware there was a C. I’ve only heard of the B/ER.”

“The B is the latest operational drone,” Strickland confirmed. “The C is still in trial phase…or it was, until now. They have an eighty-five-foot wing span, over fifty hours flight time and a heavier payload.”

“And this is really one of ours?”

“It has been confirmed,” Strickland replied.

“The drone is leaking radiation, Captain,” the President said over Strickland’s shoulder, forcing Strickland to turn and include him in the conversation. “I’m told it is on a direct bearing for Washington DC. It will be here in five hours.”

Strickland nodded. “Therefore, I must ask you again. In your estimation, Captain, was the dirty bomb the Insurrectos built still in the caves when you blew them?”

Parris swallowed. She felt sick. “Sir…until you told me about the drone, I would have sworn on the Bible it was there. Now, I…” She worked her throat again. It was tight. “I don’t know if I can do that,” she finished.

Collins sighed and looked away.

Strickland nodded. “Then we must treat the drone as if it is carrying the bomb,” he said, speaking to everyone in the Situation Room. “It changes everything.”

“You can still shoot it down, though,” Collins said, as if he was stating the obvious.

Parris shook her head. So did the two people sitting at the table with the President who were wearing military dress uniforms.

Strickland said carefully, “Cobalt-60 gives off gamma radiation, sir. Lots of it. If we shoot the drone out of the sky, we would be doing exactly what the Insurrectos want—spreading the radiation across the country. At fifteen thousand feet, the fallout would spread for miles farther than it would if the bomb detonated at ground level. The results would be…well, they would be catastrophic, Mr. President.”

Collins scowled. “We may yet have to make that decision,” he said, his voice iron-hard. “If your military cannot wrest back control of your own vehicle, I will have to give the order, Colonel. The drone cannot be allowed near Washington airspace.”

Strickland looked as though he had eaten something rotten. “Yes, sir,” he said at last. He cocked a brow at Parris. “Dismissed, Captain.”

“Sir. Mr. President.” She shut the laptop, her hand trembling.