\n
Chapter 1<\/p>\n
Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan, 6 a.m., Three Months Earlier<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cAlpha Charlie, Alpha Charlie, get ready for action!\u00a0 The target’s on the move!\u201d<\/p>\n
The words vibrated in Charlie\u2019s earpiece as he sat bolt upright, and flexed his 220 pound, 6 foot 2-inch frame. \u00a0He had spent the last four days glued to the monitors, never leaving the control center, even as the other eight members of the Air Force forensics team took brief meal and sleep breaks.\u00a0 Alpha Charlie was a CIA-hired civilian contractor whose mission in Afghanistan was to control pilotless aircraft and destroy enemy targets.\u00a0 Ninety six hours ago, he was scheduled to return to his civilian job in America, when forensics identified the Al-Qaeda leader, Muhamed Bin Garza, only 230 miles away in the Mir Ali area of North Waziristan.\u00a0 He cancelled his flight home.<\/p>\n
It had been two years since they had a positive ID on Bin Garza.\u00a0 And Charlie wanted blood.<\/p>\n
The notorious Al-Qaeda leader was responsible for the suicide bombing in\u00a0Mumbai, Amman,\u00a0London, and\u00a0Somalia, and had connections to the World Trade Center\u00a0attack in\u00a0New York.\u00a0 Now he was a sitting duck.\u00a0 He had been spotted while entering a complex of tents and adobe houses adjacent to the mountains and caves.\u00a0 He would be leaving any moment now.\u00a0 This was the one and only chance Alpha Charlie would ever have to eliminate Bin Garza.\u00a0 Bin Garza\u2019s death would be the ultimate notch in his gun barrel.\u00a0 His job back home could wait.\u00a0 He had taken out terrorists before, but Bin Garza was the trophy he had been training and waiting his whole life for.<\/p>\n
Alpha Charlie was stationed in one of two identical Quonset huts on the base, both sitting within 50 meters of each other.\u00a0 In the first hut, the US Air Force forensics team was housed.\u00a0 Their function was to make the drones airborne, to locate and identify targets, and to land the vehicles when their missions were completed.\u00a0 Alpha Charlie sat in a single chair in the second hut.<\/p>\n
But this was no ordinary chair.\u00a0 It was a one-of-a-kind control chair loaded with hundreds of computer systems that required delicate manipulations.\u00a0 At the end of each armrest were two joysticks, one for each hand. Both were equipped with a dozen buttons, some black and others red, all with separate and distinct functionalities.\u00a0 Ever since he was 12 years old, Charlie played video arcade games.\u00a0 He had mastered the games almost immediately, having innately good reflexes and hand-eye coordination.\u00a0 He also lacked moral qualms… about anything.\u00a0 After winning several gaming competitions in his late 20s, he was contacted by the CIA and accepted their offer to move from murdering virtual foes to slaughtering real ones.<\/p>\n
The CIA granted him access to a new program which involved piloting drones.\u00a0 Very quickly, Charlie had learned to operate them as well as the Air Force\u2019s best pilots.\u00a0 His penchant for video games made his skills acute, and these gaming skills readily transferred to drone operation.\u00a0 His immediate mastery of the pilotless aircraft meant an underlying talent that many of the professional pilots lacked.\u00a0 They were readily trainable, but not one had the innate ability to pick up the controls of an aircraft with which they had no experience and so quickly be able to operate it with such a sharp degree of precision.\u00a0 Charlie had even proven himself to be brilliant under pressure and once he tasted actual combat, he gained a voracious appetite for it.\u00a0 The thrill of killing a virtual terrorist couldn\u2019t compare to the rush of killing one made of flesh and blood.<\/p>\n
Air Force Colonel Ben Edwards, the director of the operation, ran into Charlie\u2019s hut.\u00a0 He glanced at Alpha Charlie’s hands as they moved the joysticks.\u00a0 Edwards marveled at how Charlie\u2019s fingers glided over the controls and easily performed maneuvers that his other \u201cpilots\u201d struggled with.<\/p>\n
Suddenly Edwards saw it – the blinking red light on the fuel gauge.\u00a0 One hundred pounds of fuel left.\u00a0 Seventy two miles of “life” left in the fuel tank, not enough to get the aircraft halfway back to Kandahar.\u00a0 He screamed, “Charlie!\u00a0 You’re running out of fuel!”<\/p>\n
Alpha Charlie pretended not to hear.\u00a0 He had already extended the flight time five hours using the updrafts of the mountains to conserve fuel and lowering the speed to 320 MPH, but he was concerned.\u00a0 An hour ago, he ordered his Global Hawk fuel carrier, yet it was not on his radar screen.\u00a0 Well, that’s a problem he didn’t have time for.<\/p>\n
His focus remained locked on the three monitors in front of him.\u00a0 Screen A showed a scurry of activity in the small, peaceful Haqqui tribal village.\u00a0 Bin Garza was going for a ride.\u00a0 That was it!\u00a0\u00a0 Charlie’s waiting was over.\u00a0 He leaned forward and watched carefully.<\/p>\n
In the center of the village, a 1960s Mercedes sedan and a 1980s Chrysler New Yorker were parked in front of an adobe house.\u00a0 Alongside the two cars, a small entourage surrounded three men who had just left the house and were walking to the vehicles.\u00a0 A dozen cheering villagers reached to touch the men as guards pushed them aside.\u00a0 On Screen B, the forensics experts focused on the faces of the men and enlarged them.\u00a0 Screen C showed a broad view of the 5 square mile area surrounding the target.<\/p>\n
Screen A showed the men getting into the two cars, while screen B flipped through stills of the faces.\u00a0 Then the camera fine-tuned portrait quality images.\u00a0 Charlie heard excitement build from the other hut, \u201cThat’s definitely Bin Garza!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd that’s his number two, Shakel, with him!\u00a0 We can get two for the price of one, if we hit ’em now!\u201d\u00a0 The third man on the screen kept his shumag pulled over his face and was not able to be identified.<\/p>\n
Colonel Edwards shouted across the room, \u201cAlpha Charlie, we have Al-Qaeda’s two top men together.\u00a0 Targets confirmed!\u00a0 It’s now or never.\u00a0 Get ’em!\u201d<\/p>\n
Alpha Charlie turned to Screen A, the target monitor showing live pictures from the MQ-4A Global Hawk drone he controlled.\u00a0 This model was the largest and best equipped drone in his fleet, but it was brand new and untested.\u00a0 It had been airborne for nearly 48 hours and\u00a0circled the area at 50,000 feet, filming the area where Pakistani intelligence had said these men were staying.\u00a0 Sweat dripped down Charlie\u2019s brow as he saw the plummeting fuel gauge now reading empty.<\/p>\n
Time was running out.\u00a0 Charlie focused the camera, centering it on the now moving car.<\/p>\n
A pissed off Edwards looked at Screen C.\u00a0 \u201cFuck!\u00a0 There’s a hill!\u00a0 They’ll disappear behind it in 20 seconds!\u00a0 Charlie, you gotta strike NOW!”<\/p>\n
Alpha Charlie did not respond, but he heard Edwards.\u00a0 He had one shot and didn’t want to fuck it up. \u00a0His mental clock ticked down – 20, 19, 18; he remained calm and showed no signs of tension.\u00a0 His left hand guided a blinking red target square over the car.\u00a0 With the image of the square fixed to the target, Charlie centered the X.<\/p>\n
CLICK!\u00a0 The Hellfire missile locked on the Mercedes.\u00a0 Twelve, 11, 10…<\/p>\n
Charlie quickly touched the red trigger button with his thumb and fired the 5 foot long missile which carried over 30 pounds of explosives.\u00a0 At a speed of 950 MPH, the missile would be paying the Mercedes a surprise visit within 3 seconds.<\/p>\n
But would it get there in time?<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n
The Mir\u00a0Ali Village, 6:04 a.m.<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 A high-pitched WHIRRR<\/i>, like that of a model airplane, filled the sky above the village.\u00a0 The driver of the Mercedes looked up and saw the silvery flash of reflected sunlight emerging from the obscurity of the mountain behind.<\/p>\n
As the driver accelerated, he saw the 5 foot long Hellfire missile speeding towards them.\u00a0 Bin Garza screamed in terror as he gripped the seat of the car and braced himself.\u00a0 The explosion was tremendous, ripping the men and car to pieces.<\/p>\n
A hundred feet away, the unidentified man in the shumag, Omar Farok, felt his Chrysler bounce around like a toy ball.\u00a0 The concussion of the impact nearly deafened him.\u00a0 He watched from the Chrysler as a fireball swallowed up the Mercedes; then, there was only a blinding cloud of smoke and dirt.<\/p>\n
Fortunately for Farok, his driver was familiar with the terrain of this village and the Chrysler instantly turned left onto a mountain path dodging around three trees.\u00a0 As the Chrysler slammed to a halt, a petrified Farok dove out of the car and ran into a mountain cave.\u00a0 He sat trembling in the cave as he watched another Hellfire missile devour the Chrysler in a ball of red flames, engulfing his driver as he tried to escape.<\/p>\n
Farok\u2019s voice echoed inside the cave, \u201cAmerican pigs, I swear on Allah’s blessed name, you will pay for this!”<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The\u00a0Kandahar\u00a0Drone Control Center, 6:05 a.m.<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Col. Edwards and his forensics team cheered!<\/p>\n
But Alpha Charlie did not celebrate, even as the refueling aircraft in the sky above saved his drone from sputtering to the earth on its last pound of fuel.\u00a0 Sure, Charlie was pleased about the millions that he had made from this kill.\u00a0 This extra money would allow him to shift his drone control station and missiles back home and continue his missions from there, but still, he wasn’t about to jump up and down and cheer.\u00a0 He’d done his job.<\/p>\n
He stood as bottles of Dom Perignon were uncorked.\u00a0 Without fanfare, Charlie grabbed a drink and downed it.\u00a0 Then, he poured himself another.<\/p>\n
As he swallowed, he thought to himself, \u2018All in a day’s work\u2019.\u00a0 <\/i><\/p>\n
Chapter 2<\/p>\n
The Surgery Center, Jackson City, N.C., 7 p.m., Three Months Later<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n
If you were to walk into my cosmetic surgery office, you\u2019d see that I designed a space that is healing, orderly and serene.\u00a0 There are no crystals or there is no new age music playing, but there’s a little waterfall and many of the walls and open spaces feature my favorite flower \u2013 the orchid.<\/p>\n
My orchids are always resplendent with gorgeous colored blooms \u2013 hot pink, deep magenta, white with mauve spots.\u00a0 I care for all the plants myself by watering them, limiting the amount of sunlight, and constantly measuring and altering the composition of the soil.\u00a0 In my office, you\u2019ll always find a colorful Doritaenopsis.<\/p>\n
My favorite is the pure white Phalaenopsis to the left of the waterfall.\u00a0 When I first opened my office, a patient sent that to me, but it was solid blue — an unnatural color for an orchid.\u00a0 I sensed that someone blue-inked the roots, like the blue roses in Kipling’s poems.\u00a0 Saturating a flower in ink always seemed wrong and angered me in the same way that a bad facelift did.\u00a0 In my mind, there were absolute rights and wrongs in this world.\u00a0 A person’s face shouldn’t be stretched so tight that their eyes and lips get distorted, and a white orchid should remain pure white.<\/p>\n
I became obsessed with that Phalaenopsis, nurturing it (in a back room, of course) until it bloomed again and this time, it was the purest white of any orchid I ever had.\u00a0 I look at the broken pieces of Orchis sitting in my waiting room every day and I try my best to put her back together.\u00a0 And most of the time, I succeed.\u00a0 Except today.\u00a0 Today was not going so well\u2026<\/p>\n
“Why’s it taking her so long to recover from the anesthetic?” I asked as I removed my surgical gown and gloves.\u00a0 I arched my back, stiff from bending over so much.\u00a0 After 12 hours of surgery, I was exhausted.\u00a0 I\u2019d just hit 40 and I was really starting to feel it.<\/p>\n
I smiled at my anesthesiologist, Dr. Boyd Carey.\u00a0 “Two face lifts, two liposuctions and three augmentation mammoplasties is enough for one day.”<\/p>\n
Dr. Carey did not return the smile.\u00a0 He looked over his half-frame glasses and shrugged.\u00a0 “If you hadn’t bowed to Keyes’ ridiculous demand to keep her privacy by sending your two nurses home early, her “auggie” would have only taken 45 minutes.”\u00a0 Carey was a thin vegan who would\u2019ve probably been happier if he ate a burger once and awhile.\u00a0 Fine wrinkles in his 45-year-old dark skin made him look 60.<\/p>\n
I took off my surgical cap and finger-combed my hair.\u00a0 “Come on now, Boyd.\u00a0 Relax.\u00a0 Hey, at least we aren\u2019t working in the tobacco fields.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh God, you\u2019re not going to start in again on your childhood stories of slaving away in the fields to pay for college\u2014”<\/p>\n
\u201cI could if\u2014”<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease, spare me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Carey turned to the patient for a minute and then tilted his head back and faced me again.\u00a0 “No.\u00a0 She’s still sound asleep.\u00a0 And that’s another thing, Scott.\u00a0 We should have given her Propaphol, like we do on all our patients.\u00a0 She’d be awake by now.\u00a0 But no! You always grant all your patient’s every wish and kiss their surgically-raised asses.”<\/p>\n
Ethel Keyes had been my office manager for the past two months.\u00a0 She was a hard worker with a sweet personality; everyone who came in contact with her liked her.\u00a0 I had never before employed anyone who so quickly endeared herself to everyone.\u00a0 And it probably didn’t hurt that she was a 32-year-old blonde who looked like a high fashion model.<\/p>\n
Just a few days ago, Keyes had confided to me that she always felt uncomfortable with her body as she thought her breasts were too small.\u00a0 She had done such a great job in the office, revamping my billing system, changing the office health insurance to a less expensive and more comprehensive plan, and computerized all my office records, that I offered to do a breast auggie surgery for her – pro bono.<\/p>\n
However, it was a mistake.\u00a0 Beyond the ethical issues involved in operating on employees, she proved to be a difficult patient from the beginning: refusing Propaphol as her anesthetic because it killed Michael Jackson; forbidding the use of the second best medication, intravenous Versed, because she didn\u2019t like its amnesic properties, and insisting on an older style of anesthesia, Valium and Demerol, but in reduced doses.<\/p>\n
She argued that she was sensitive to all sedatives.\u00a0 Sure enough, it took only 2 mg of Valium and 50 mg of Demerol to knock her completely out.\u00a0 Most people required 10 mg of Valium and 100 mg of Demerol with touch-up medications given as the patients got “light”.\u00a0 No additional drugs were needed today as she slept soundly.\u00a0 And kept on sleeping even after the procedure ended and Dr. Carey and I waited … and waited for her to wake up.<\/p>\n
I leaned over the OR table and tapped her cheeks lightly.\u00a0 “Ms. Keyes, Ms. Keyes, can you hear me?”<\/p>\n
Her response was a snore.<\/p>\n
I clasped my hands behind my back, pressing on my tired paraspinal muscles.\u00a0 My perpetual smile turned to a frown.<\/p>\n
Dr. Carey growled, “She hasn’t had enough sedation to hurt a fly.\u00a0 You should just go home.\u00a0 I’ll watch her until she wakes up.\u00a0 At least one of us should be able to enjoy this evening.”<\/p>\n
“No.\u00a0 I’m not leaving until she’s awake.”<\/p>\n
“Fine.\u00a0 Go into your office.\u201d\u00a0 Carey reached out, cupped her left breast and with a smirk uttered, \u201cI\u2019ll keep you abreast of everything here.\u201d<\/p>\n
“Jesus, Boyd, get your hands off of her.\u00a0 She\u2019s under for Christ\u2019s sake!”<\/p>\n
“Alright, Sir Galahad, guardian of fair maidens.\u00a0 Go get some coffee and I’ll call you when she’s awake enough for discharge.\u00a0 It shouldn’t be long.\u201d<\/p>\n
I hesitated before leaving the room.\u00a0 “I’ll be in the waiting room.\u00a0 Call me and I’ll be back in a second it there’s a problem.”<\/p>\n
As I left the OR, I pulled out my IPhone and called my wife, Alicia.\u00a0 I told her of the situation with Keyes.<\/p>\n
She answered, \u201cAlright, do what you have to.\u00a0 But there’s always something<\/i> to keep you there late.\u00a0 The boys wanted to see you and— I’ll put the boys to sleep and keep your tuna casserole hot in the oven,” she sighed as she continued, “Again!”<\/p>\n
I walked to my waiting room to talk to Anna Duke, the friend that was to pick up Keyes after surgery.\u00a0 But when I got there, she wasn’t there so I sat down on the sofa and relaxed.<\/p>\n
This room is my favorite part of the office.\u00a0 It\u2019s got a huge skylight, custom stereo, a waterfall with a 4 foot drop, and a dozen blooming orchids.\u00a0 I turned on a Miles Davis CD and flicked on the multi-colored lights that glowed behind the flowing water.\u00a0 When my architect had told me that it was impossible to put everything I wanted in this room without knocking down all the walls, I paid him his fee and let him go.<\/p>\n
Then I went online, did my research, and installed it all myself.\u00a0 I’m sure I could have hired someone else to do it faster, but I found that I really enjoyed learning about plumbing and wiring.\u00a0 In fact, I’d had so much fun doing it, next on my agenda is to buy and fix up an old Victorian house in the low country of the Carolinas one day.\u00a0 The operative word being “one day” since these days I really couldn’t imagine doing much of anything else with my 80-hour work schedule.<\/p>\n
I sat back, smelled the sweet fragrance of his cymbidium and zygopetalum orchids, closed my eyes, and dictated the seven operations I performed that day.<\/p>\n
* * * * *<\/p>\n
Meanwhile in the operating room only 30 feet away,\u00a0 a shadow caught Dr. Boyd Carey\u2019s eye.\u00a0 Carey quickly turned and saw a light reflect off of something in the air, something swinging at him.<\/p>\n
It hit him hard in the neck, almost knocking him over.\u00a0 Immediately, he reached towards his neck and felt a painful jab and a burning sensation.<\/p>\n
He tried to turn to face his attacker, but his body wouldn’t move.\u00a0 Again, the hand slammed him with the sharp object.\u00a0 Carey wanted to lift his arms to protect himself, but they dropped limply at his side.\u00a0 His legs grew weak.\u00a0 His muscles quivered uncontrollably.<\/p>\n
His mouth opened to scream, but he couldn’t make a sound.\u00a0 Both knees buckled and his body dropped to the floor.<\/p>\n
* * * * *<\/p>\n
I heard a THUMP<\/i>!\u00a0 I ran to the OR, opened the door and saw Dr. Carey lying there!<\/p>\n
I looked over at the OR table.\u00a0 Keyes was still sleeping with the monitors showing a normal blood pressure, pulse, and EKG.<\/p>\n
I dropped to my knees beside Carey.\u00a0 There was no pulse.\u00a0 Jerking the stethoscope from his white lab coat, I listened to his chest.\u00a0 There was only a faint bump…bump…bump.\u00a0 I pounded my fist on Carey’s chest and listened again.\u00a0 Placing the heel of my hand on his lower sternum, I compressed the chest six times before blowing into Carey’s mouth.\u00a0 His heart sounds were slow and distant.<\/p>\n
For the first time in my surgical career, I felt panic-stricken.\u00a0 What had happened?\u00a0 I’d only been gone a few minutes. <\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i>Quickly, I dialed 911.\u00a0 “A man’s been stabbed.\u00a0 He’s dying!\u00a0 I need help.\u00a0 Please send an ambulance STAT!”<\/p>\n<\/div>\nTHANKS TO AUTHOR, GLENN SHEPARD,
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