Chapter 43
Colombia
Flying was his passion. Nearly all of his former women, from Brazilian bathing suit models to gold medal Olympic gymnasts, agreed he’d rather be in the clouds than with them.
And they were right. Up here, he was a god.
Fierro’s eyes locked on the target drone inside the “donut of death” reticle on his heads-up display. The drone’s evasive maneuvering program thrashed it around in the air, but Fierro’s stick and rudder control was impervious to its defense.
Still at full throttle, he closed the distance quickly, waiting for the drone to fill his reticle before mashing the trigger.
His carbon-fiber plane shuddered as the .
50-caliber machine gun spat out shells, disintegrating the drone in seconds.
But his high rate of speed was now a fatal problem as he rocketed toward the dangerous debris littering the flight path directly in front of his fragile aircraft.
Fierro snapped into a sudden roll, slipping his wings to near vertical as he yanked back on the stick, throwing the SW-51 into a gut-crushing turn, narrowly missing the spiraling metal shards slicing through the air. In seconds, he was clear of danger.
Fierro’s heart raced with joy, not fear. He wasn’t afraid of death so much as failing to live. A close call like that only affirmed his love of life. And shooting down drones was a great distraction from the problems at hand, including Narcisco Tamacas, who was still a threat.
What kept Fierro up nights, however, was Project Q’s ticking clock.
For years, it had been an exciting possibility, a grand vision to be realized.
The thrill of the chase energized him. But now that he was so close to achieving it, anxiety gripped his heart like a vise.
He agonized at the thought of failing so close to the finish line.
On the ground, Fierro’s sanity was hanging by the thinnest of threads, but up here he could breathe.
Just as he was about to order the launch of another target drone, a call patched through to his comms digital readout. Only three people had this number. Fierro yanked the yoke hard, punching the SW-51 through the clouds and into a bright azure sky.
“Dr. Bose, I trust you’re calling with good news about Project Q,” Fierro said as he leveled off.
“Actually, sir, I have a bit of good news and bad. There’s a problem.”
“And what might that be?”
“Our main computer has been breached.”
Fierro’s grip jerked on his yoke. The plane yawed sharply, but he corrected it instantly. “A breach? How? When?”
“We only just discovered it minutes ago. I called you as soon as I could perform a forensic analysis and damage assessment.”
“How is this possible? Explain yourself.”
“Technically, our operating systems weren’t entirely breached. But some of the more complex coding we’ve been working on was stolen before the computer itself detected the break-in and stopped it. The good news is the project itself wasn’t damaged or destroyed, and we’re still on schedule.”
Fierro exhaled with relief, his breath heavy in his headphones.
“What’s the bad news you’re not telling me?”
“The stolen piece of code reveals exactly what it is that we’re working on. And worse, I suspect there’s a possibility they might have discovered our location.”
Fierro’s teeth clenched, choking down a primal scream. He calmed himself. “Who’s behind this? The Americans? The Chinese?”
“I think not. The Americans and Chinese use brute-force instrumentalities. This attack was subtle, like a thin dagger between the vertebrae. Quite admirable, actually. If I had to guess, it’s a supremely talented individual or an independent hacker collective.”
“Curb your admiration, dear Doctor. This attack poses quite a threat to us. The information they now possess is priceless. No doubt they plan on selling it to the highest bidder. They need to be stopped immediately, if it’s not already too late.”
“Agreed.”
“Any ideas about how to find them?”
“That’s the other good news. Once we identified the attack vector, we dissected their digital footprint and reconstructed their path through the system. By analyzing packet flows and correlating time stamps, we unraveled both the exploit and pinpointed the origin of the intrusion.”
“Meaning?”
“The attack came from a region of Panama known as the Darién Gap.”
Fierro pumped a fist in the air. “Excellent. I have assets in the region. Send me the exact coordinates. I’ll send a snatch team in immediately. We’ll find out what they’ve done and deal with them accordingly.”
“I’m sending the coordinates to you now,” Bose said. A moment later, Fierro’s comms dinged.
“Got it. Thank you for the call, Dr. Bose. I don’t need to tell you that pushing forward with Project Q at all possible speed is of the utmost importance.”
“I can’t change the laws of physics. It takes whatever time it takes.”
“Four days is an eternity at this juncture.”
“Patience, Mr. Fierro. In just four days, you will be king of the world.”