A/N: They spotted ownership of Chuck with the new Webb Telescope. Very cool.
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Everyone was now fully dressed and packed. They were sure that they wouldn't be staying in the hotel anymore with so many dead bodies to deal with. (Although Casey would probably have been able to sleep soundly in the abattoir regardless.) It had been somewhat awkward to move around the suite with six corpses on the floor, but they managed.
Bukhari was on the phone with his contacts from ISI. The hotel staff would be kept out of it, while the ISI was sending their own version of the cleaners.
Chuck went to call Bryce and tell him of the developments and that Casey was packing Bryce's bag. Chuck picked up his phone from the bedroom side table. There was a text message waiting for him:
I AM ORION. BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME, CARMICHAEL.
"Oh, shit, guys. Orion reached out again." He told them what the message said while opening his computer somewhat frantically.
"What are you doing, Sweetie?"
"I'm trying to see if I can locate him from his cell phone. Like I did with Bryce that time in London," he said, his fingers flying over the computer keyboard.
The cleaners arrived and began to remove the Fulcrum bodies. Chuck was working with too much concentration to notice. The room was almost cleared of the dead Fulcrum agents when Chuck finally said, "YES. Got him."
"Where is he?" asked Casey.
"He's on the move and hasn't shut down his phone. He's heading south towards the water."
"Sounds like a trap. From everything you've told us he's too smart to get caught like this," said Casey.
"I agree," said Sarah.
"Yeah. You're right. It's almost certainly a trap," said Chuck, nodding.
They stood there looking at each other for long seconds until Zondra said, "So? What are we waiting for? Let's go."
"Right," said Casey, grabbing his gun.
Durab said, mostly to himself, "You guys lead exciting lives."
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They were all in the one SUV, Durab driving with Chuck next to him, trying to follow the Orion signal from his computer screen and relay those directions to the NSA man. Dawn was still a ways off and traffic was light. After filling in the others, they had decided to leave Bryce and Boland at the site of the demolished building while the rest of them followed this lead.
"Guys," said Chuck. "It looks to me like he's at the docks. From the signal, he seems to be getting a boat."
Casey said, "Hey, Durab, you guys have a boat we can use?"
"Yeah, Colonel. We do."
"Fork in the road," said Sarah. "If he's not getting a boat we might lose him."
"And if he is and we don't get our own, we might lose him," said Zondra.
"Chuck, what does the computer tell us? What do you think?" asked Sarah.
"I think we should go for the boat. I'll keep an eye on his location, at least while it's still in range of the cell towers. If it looks like he's peeling off somewhere else, we can switch directions. But, for now, he still looks to be heading to the water."
"Right," said Durab, taking a sudden turn.
"Where's your boat?" asked Casey.
"Near the Pakistani Navy's port facilities. We use it when we have to get some signals intel from Iranian ships coming through the Strait," he said, referring to the Strait of Hormuz. "There are other closer assets in Muscat, but this one works when we need it."
After a few twists and turns, they arrived at a dock. Durab said, "I can pilot the boat, but it's not a one-man job."
"I got you," said Casey.
The boat, named the Lucky Lady, was about twenty meters long and looked like a beat-up fishing boat, but was equipped with state of the art gear under its unprepossessing disguise. The boat was white with streaks of what appeared to be rust, with a single structure about two-thirds of the way back to the stern, two levels, with a wheelhouse on top and a galley common room below. Poles of various sizes stuck up in seemingly random fashion. They appeared to be fishing rods, but were actually state-of-the-art antennas.
The smell of the sea mixed with diesel and old fish, but a fresh breeze was coming off the water from the south. The day was likely to climb into the low 30's Celsius, but at the moment it was a comfortable 25 degrees.
Chuck and Durab established themselves in the wheelhouse.
Casey and Zondra helped them cast off the lines fore and aft and soon they were motoring out of the harbor.
Chuck said, "Yeah, he's on a boat and leaving the harbor. It should be here." He pointed to a spot on the map.
Durab looked at the radar screen and said, "I don't see it. That's weird. Let me connect us with the land based set up we have. It's more powerful."
"What's that about?" asked Chuck.
"The boat can only carry radar of a certain power. NSA runs a powerful land station in Kathor up the coast to see the traffic through the Strait. I'll switch us over the that feed. If he doesn't show up on that he's on a fucking surfboard."
After a few moments, he said, "Yeah. There he is. Heading south."
"Wonder where he's taking us?" said Chuck.
"Yeah. Me too."
"Let's keep an eye on the other traffic. I'm still worried about a trap," said Chuck.
"Good idea, that makes sense. Nothing close to us at the moment though," said Durab.
"So, we follow," said Chuck with a shrug. "At least for now."
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Al Udeid Air Base, West of Dohar, Qatar, United States Air Force Central Command
Staff Sergeant Wilson checked the fuses on the two Hellfire missiles mounted under the fuselage of the Predator drone for the third time. Good to go.
Wilson spoke into his radio. "Final checks clear. Ready to launch."
With that, the drone began to move to the active runway. Moment later, it was in the air.
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Nellis Air Force Base, Near Las Vegas, Nevada
Captain Heath settled himself into his console, donned his headphones and took a sip of his coffee. Unlikely to be much excitement today. He was taking the Predator over South Waziristan, one of the tribal areas in western Pakistan. His control signals were transmitted through a relay in Ramstein, Germany, and from there to South Asia. There were a swarm of Global Hawk intelligence drones over the target area, ready to feed him and his fellow drone pilots any information of use in targeting. The computer was loaded with algorithms to identify anyone on the ground with an outstanding termination order against them, but it was always a long shot to find someone. And, when you did, you needed wait for them to be alone so as to minimize collateral damage and civilian casualties. Odds are, today would be pretty boring.
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Aboard the Lucky Lady, heading into the Arabian Sea
Durab said, "Are you still getting the signal from the cell phone?"
"Yeah. Whatever cell phone sent me that message is still active and on that blip on the radar screen," said Chuck. Squinting out the window of the wheelhouse. "I wish we could see it. It must be pretty small."
"Dawn will be coming soon enough. We ought to spot it then."
"No running lights," said Chuck.
"Dangerous, but I guess he wants to get lost in the blackness," responded Durab.
"Yeah."
"Any idea where he could be going?"
"Meeting another ship, is my guess. Probably one of these," Chuck gestured to some of the spots on the radar screen.
Durab said, "Hey, what's that?" As they watched a spot on the screen seemed to be moving very quickly towards them, much more quickly than the Lucky Lady was moving through the water.
"I don't know, but it's coming up behind us like a bat out of hell." Chuck leaned out the door of the wheelhouse and said, "Guys, check our six. Something's coming out of the harbor behind us and it's really motoring."
Casey got some binoculars from somewhere and focused on the boat coming up behind them. It wasn't easy, as the glow from the city's lights behind them put the boat into silhouette. He saw the moving lights jerking up and down with the boat's violent action through the swell. It seemed to be a much smaller speedboat. As he watched, there were flashes of light coming from the approaching boat.
"Down, people. We're taking small arms fire," yelled Casey over the sound of the wind. The three of them crouched below the ship's side.
Sarah turned to yell up the stairs, "CHUCK, DURAB, take cover. incoming fire."
"Right We're good," yelled Durab.
Sarah said, "I don't hear any rounds coming close. Pistols at that distance..."
"And from a bouncing platform shooting at a bouncing target? Just a waste of ammo," opined Casey. "You'd have a better chance of winning the lottery than of hitting anyone."
Sarah yelled, "Hey, Durab. Any long guns on board?"
"Yeah," he responded. "Brown locker on the port side. Code 7-8-8-3."
As the men firing at them got closer, Sarah scrambled over to the locker and collected three M-16 rifles and three pouches of magazines. She quickly handed them out to Zondra and Casey. Casey noted the orange tips on some of the rounds in the magazines and approved. Tracer rounds would help them put rounds on target in the darkness.
When all three were ready with locked and loaded rifles, Casey looked through the binoculars again and declared, "It's Smith. He survived the fall from the window. He must have collected another Fulcrum team."
They waited a few moments until Casey judged them to be close enough and said, "Fire."
All three rifles began to spit their deadly messengers at the Fulcrum speedboat. As the tracer rounds were able to pinpoint their aim, Team B was able to fire more accurately. One man tumbled off the back and into the black water.
The driver of the Fulcrum boat, though, was quick thinking and peeled off, taking his boat out of range of the rifles held by Team B.
Casey yelled, "Bukhari, go after them."
"No good, Colonel. They are way faster than we are in that thing. We'd never catch them," he said.
"Yeah, Case. And we want to get to Orion anyway," said Chuck. "He's still out there heading into the sea."
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Nellis Air Force Base, Near Las Vegas, Nevada
Captain Heath stared at his monitor, watching the horizon just starting to lighten to the east with the beginning of dawn in the Arabian Gulf. Suddenly, the horizon on the monitor tilted.
He was jolted out of his boredom and reached for the controls. His eyes scanned the other readouts on his monitor. There was no doubt, the aircraft was turning south and accelerating.
What the holy hell?
He grabbed at the controls and tried to put the aircraft back where it belonged, but his inputs didn't register with the drone. He tried a reboot of the system. Nothing was accomplished.
This was really bad.
He switched frequencies on the headset he wore and said, "Colonel Tartum, Sir. I have a problem with A448. It seems to be out of my control."
"Did you try a reboot?"
"Yes, Sir. Nothing."
"Oh, shit. Are we being jammed?"
"Doesn't seem so. The signal strength seems solid. As bizarre as it sounds, Sir. It seems someone has taken control of my monitor. Of my computer."
"I'll be right down," the Colonel said.
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Aboard the Lucky Lady, heading into the Arabian Sea
Durab and Chuck stood in the wheelhouse of the ship, watching the sea ahead of them and the radar screen. The Fulcrum boat had swung wide past them, outside the range of the rifles, and was making time toward the radar spot that was Orion.
"Shit," said Chuck. "I'm afraid they'll get to Orion first."
"Well, we can't outrun them."
"Let me try to warn him."
Chuck took out his phone and replied to the text from Orion.
FULCRUM ON YOUR TAIL. CIRCLE BACK TO US BEHIND THEM. WE CAN PROTECT YOU FROM THEM
He hit send, hoping he had enough signal strength this far from shore and the cell towers.
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Nellis Air Force Base, Near Las Vegas, Nevada
Heath and Tartum looked at the monitor and brainstormed how to get the control of the drone back. It had passed out of the Gulf and was over the Arabian Sea. If there was good news, it was the relatively empty nature of the water. If everything had gone haywire over a city, it could be a huge and terrifying emergency. As it was, it was merely pretty horrible.
"Could it be a glitch. Some kind of software malfunction?"
"I guess, but look at the way it's flying, Sir. I think there's a person controlling it. It's not random. It's heading somewhere."
"What's there, Captain?"
"From the radar, just looks like shipping traffic," said Heath.
"Oh, shit. It just acquired missile lock on two ships. SHIT," said the Colonel. He reached out and pressed a button to trigger the autodestruct. He'd rather explain having to destroy an expensive aircraft than he would having civilian deaths on his conscience.
The autodestruct failed to do a thing to the drone.
One of the Hellfire missiles launched.
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Aboard The Lucky Lady, heading into the Arabian Sea
"What the hell is that?" yelled Durab. A streak of a missile flew out of the black sky, seemingly out of nowhere. The Fulcrum boat blew apart in a flash of flame.
Chuck's phone buzzed.
GOODBYE, CARMICHAEL. I WAS ORION.
A second missile flew down from the sky and there was another explosion, this one too far in the distance to make out much visually.
Both the Orion signal and the Fulcrum boat were gone from the radar.
Chuck's shoulders slumped and he murmured, "Godammit."
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Goffs, California
In an underground bunker located far beneath the desert sand, Orion reached behind him to crack his back and stretch his neck. He was surrounded by computers and multiple monitors. He wore a loose sweater to warm him in the borderline frigid room. Both the IC (led by Carmichael) and Fulcrum were getting closer. He'd managed to take out another Fulcrum team and fake his death yet again. He didn't think that would buy him too much time, though. Carmichael was too smart. What to do about that was front and center of his planning. Of the two groups who wanted him, he thought it likely that he could most effectively manipulate Carmichael. After all, the man was his son.
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A/N2: Well, now we know why I moved the hunt for Orion to Pakistan. Canon made use of a hijacked Predator drone with armed missiles. Cool concept, but what the hell was one of those things doing flying over Los Angeles? And armed, no less? That's insane. So, I moved the story to a place where a USAF armed drone might be actually operating in 2008. I do think it's pretty cool that the drones are controlled out of the continental US even though they were (and are) operating half a world away. Also, blowing up a boat at sea isn't as chaotic as blowing up stuff in cities. The idea of jamming and controlling a drone is not at all sci-fi. In 2011 the Iranians did exactly that and "kidnapped" a top-line American drone. They took it apart and attempted to reverse engineer it. I have read recently that the technology they found onboard went a long way to explaining why, as of today (7/22), Iranian drone technology is as impressive as it is.
A/N3: I'm going to be out of the country next weekend. I am still intending to drop my usual Saturday chapter but may find myself with a balky internet connection or something else that precludes that. If that's the case, with luck I'll be back the week after.
A/N4: Love to hear from you.