“The wreckage, anyway.” He gestured to the huge block of concrete attached to the first pallet by steel cables. “After we net it, we push this deadweight out the back of the plane, which drags the whole thing down to earth.”
The peculiar cargo now made sense, but then she narrowed her eyes at him. “We’re going to intercept a flying bomb. Did I really need to be here for this?”
He pulled on his black hood, then pulled on a jump helmet with integral headphones of its own. “After your last stunt, you’re not leaving my sight. Besides, with a drone incoming, the ground is not the safest place to be right now.”
She nodded reluctantly and pulled off her own headphones. It suddenly got very loud—the engines howling. She pulled her own integral hood on and was soon quite warm despite the cold. McKinney examined the fabric and shouted, “What’s this material?”
He shouted back, “Classified. Here . . .” He approached her with a sophisticated-looking facemask, flight helmet, and goggles. “Oxygen. In case we need to climb rapidly to chase this thing.” He handed her the goggles first.
She nodded and put them on.
He placed the helmet on her head, took it off, made a few adjustments, and then put it on again. It was heavily padded and had integral earphones. In a moment she heard his radio voice again. “Have you ever used a PHAOS rig?”
She shook her head.
He clipped the aerodynamic oxygen mask onto her helmet. Then he rigged the oxygen bottle into the flight suit. He then held out her parachute pack.
“So you have paratrooper training.”
He eyed her. “I’ve done a few jumps. . . .” Then he also held out the leg loops of a yellow nylon harness. The moment she stepped into it, he quickly buckled it around her. McKinney traced her hand from the harness to a strap that led to the ceiling.
Odin spoke as he worked. “Monkey cord. It’ll keep you from falling out of the aircraft.”
She nodded. “I’ve used them before.”
He smacked her shoulder and gave a thumbs-up. “You’re good to go. Just stay out of the way when all this stuff goes out the hatch.” He gestured to the payload.
McKinney could see that the others had donned their high-altitude and parachute gear as well, along with helmets and monkey cords.
The pilot’s voice came over the radio. “Odin, this is Tailhook. We’ve got eyes on that cyclops. Repeat, eyes on the cyclops. Sending the image on channel four. Over.”
“Copy that, Tailhook.” Odin clipped on his own monkey cord harness, then grabbed the tablet computer. He flipped to channel four.
McKinney leaned in to see a highly detailed black-and-white thermal image.
Odin nodded to himself, then keyed the radio. “Been looking for that son of a bitch for a while. Tango Yankee, Tailhook.”
“Don’t mention it.”
There, on-screen, was the image of a delta-shaped unmanned aircraft, tracking above the badlands in the night, shades of gray on gray. It was visibly different from the drone that had tried to kill her in Africa: a flying wing with a propeller on its trailing edge. The wing surface itself appeared to be of patchwork material—at least on the thermal image. As though it was a hobby project.
Odin keyed the mic. “Foxy, get us as much video imagery as you can on our approach. If it self-destructs, this is all we’re going to get. So I want video from every angle while we’re bagging it. Top, sides, bottom. Got that?”
“Odin, this is Tailhook. We’re a mile behind this thing and coming up fast, but we’re still going to be tight on time if we want to bag it before it drops its payload.”
Odin exchanged hand signals with Foxy. “Copy that, Tailhook. Get us in there, man.”
The plane lurched in sudden turbulence. McKinney grabbed Odin’s arm to steady herself. She focused on the camera image. They were nearly on top of the drone, and she could see the texture on the composite surface.
Another voice came on the intercom. “Stand clear of the cargo doors. Opening in three, two, one . . .”
A loud sucking sound was followed by a rushing roar as the upper rear floor of the cargo bay raised up beneath the tail. A moment later the lower ramp leveled, with hydraulic pistons holding it in place to either side. McKinney could see Foxy and Tin Man moving toward the payload, while the loadmaster and flight engineer looked out the open cargo door with thermal binoculars at the yawning gulf behind them. The view of the vast Utah wilderness below them was beautiful in the crisp winter moonlight.
Odin walked toward the ramp. McKinney stood up but remained where she was as the plane passed close above the mystery drone. It was a hundred or more feet below them and a bit farther back, but the entire team was riveted by it—apparently never having seen their enemy with the naked eye.