Drone Command Read Online Free PDF Page B

smashed through the ball. It launched into the air like a mortar round and dropped ten yards past Myers’s ball. His longest drive of the day.
    â€œWhere did that come from?” Ito burst out laughing. “You’ve been holding out on us.”
    Tanaka grinned. “Just lucky.” He picked up his broken tee. “Did I hear the name Pearce?”
    â€œYes, we were just talking about him.”
    â€œI’m looking forward to meeting him,” Tanaka said. “We were scheduled to meet tomorrow, but I was just notified by my office that he had to postpone. Very disappointing.”
    â€œI apologize, Mr. Tanaka. Something terribly important must have come up.” Myers couldn’t imagine what that could be. She and Troy had carefully prepared for tomorrow’s meeting with Tanaka, the most powerful member of Ito’s governing coalition. Two other important guests were also invited. “Mr. Pearce is also a friend of the president, and he would never want to disappoint him or you. I apologize for him on his behalf.”
    â€œI’m sure we can make new arrangements,” Ito offered. “Shall we finish our game?”
    â€œYes, of course,” Myers said. Tanaka nodded.
    Ito laughed. “Good! Because I’m still three strokes ahead, and I intend to win this match. And as you both know, the losers buy the drinks!” Ito signaled to the three female caddies standing discreetly away, dressed in their traditional long-sleeve shirts, pants, and oversize hats, to bring the golf bags. Myers was glad they were allowed to use electric-powered carts to carry their bags over the steep hills. In the old days, Ito told her, the caddies were young women from local farms who hauled the heavy bags over their shoulders like sacks of rice.
    Ito threw his driver into his bag as Tanaka wiped the grass off his club head.
    Myers glanced out over the idyllic Pacific coastline, lost in the crashing waves.
    Where was Pearce?

FIVE
    NEAR THE VIETNAM-CHINA BORDER
    HOA AN DISTRICT, VIETNAM
    3 MAY 2017
    B ullets smashed into the tree as Pearce and the others ran past it, racing down the brightly moonlit hill for cover. Automatic fire cracked behind them higher up on the mountain. Pearce felt the familiar adrenaline rush, the slowing of time, the heightened senses. Nothing new. No fear. Just an urgent desire to avoid a 7.62 slug exploding in his brain pan.
    Not the mission he thought Lane had given him.
    Pearce dove over a massive fallen tree trunk, the woman and the lieutenant right behind him, barking orders in a comms unit.
    A sharp rock dug into Pearce’s hip when he hit the ground but he barely felt it.
    Pearce crouched against the ancient timber for cover as another burst of hot lead jackhammered into it. The wood trembled against his shoulder.
    The lieutenant swore. Pearce didn’t speak Vietnamese. Didn’t need to. Saw it on his sweating face in the dim light. The ambush killed three of his men. Probably more.
    And they were next.
    The firing up above them stopped. The last gunshot echo faded.
    The young Communist infantry officer instinctively turned to Pearce, his elder, an important man with a reputation. The worry in his face said that this was his first taste of combat. His searching eyes asked Pearce if it was safe to move now.
    Pearce recalled the moments before. The tough Vietnamese infantry sergeant who had stared daggers at him when he approached the crashed drone on top of the hill. The small circle of enlisted men, rifles loose in their grips, ridiculously young, scanning the tree line, smoking cigarettes. Dr. Pham, his guide and translator, as pretty as she was earnest, introducing him to the lieutenant.
    Dr. Pham nodded at the drone. “Do you recognize it?”
    Looked exactly like a Predator. It wasn’t.
    â€œYeah. The Pterodactyl. Chinese.”
    Above, a familiar sound.
    Muffled rotors whipped the treetops.
    Machine guns fired, shredding the three