Drone Command (33 page)

FUKUSHIMA DAIICHI NUCLEAR POWER PLANT

FUKUSHIMA PREFECTURE, JAPAN

29 MAY 2017

P
earce and Myers flew a JAL Sky Suite 777 nonstop from San Francisco to Tokyo to meet up with President Lane and his mission to Beijing. But when they touched down, Pearce informed her that he wouldn't be attending the summit. “I'm no politician” was his excuse, and when that failed, “I've got some Pearce Systems business to attend to.” Myers was clearly disappointed but said she understood and flew to Beijing on Air Force One without him later that afternoon.

Pearce called August Mann from the airport and confirmed that he had landed. Mann reported that everything was still running smoothly at the site and that everything was on schedule. Pearce arrived the next day.

The giant tsunami that struck the facilities at Fukushima had slammed the Unit 4 building particularly hard. The reactor had already been shut down for repairs before the deadly tidal wave hit, but it was still a nuclear catastrophe waiting to happen. The American-designed facility was particularly problematic for an area of the world prone to both earthquakes and tsunamis. One of its most distressing features was an elevated cooling pool storing more than fourteen hundred spent nuclear fuel rods that contained nearly forty million curies of deadly radiation. Exposing those fuel rods to the air, some scientists argued, would be an environmental holocaust. Now, several years after the tsunami,
Unit 4 was sinking into the ground, threatening to collapse the building and destroy the pool.

August Mann ran the nuclear-deconstruction division of Pearce Systems, and he and his unmanned ground vehicles had been contracted to help remove the contaminated debris that humans couldn't touch. But once his automated systems were in place, TEPCO found other useful work for them to carry out, including tackling the Unit 4 building problem. Because of the hazardous radiation in and around Unit 4, it was impossible for anything but remotely controlled robots to work in the area for any length of time. Mann and his drone team were attempting to stabilize the foundation of the Unit 4 structure to keep it from sinking farther into the water-soaked soil in order to avoid the building's collapse and the resulting catastrophe.

Mann's remotely piloted tracked vehicles had carried hundreds of heavy steel rods and large metal cylinders across the irradiated mudscape over the last few weeks. There were so many problems at the Fukushima facility and its other reactors that Mann and his team were left largely unsupervised by the overworked, understaffed TEPCO managers.

Pearce and Mann were in one of Pearce Systems' off-site control stations a safe distance from the radiation poisoning the air, soil, and water in and around Unit 4. Pearce sat at the control station running one of the Pearce Systems tracked robots that was carrying yet another metal cylinder in its hydraulic claws as it lumbered toward the sinking foundation.

Pearce's cell phone rang. He tapped his Bluetooth. It was Myers.

“How'd it go?” he asked.

“Better than expected. President Sun was surprisingly compliant.”

“Why are you surprised?” Pearce knew the Chinese respected force, and the sinking of the
Liaoning
alone would have been more than enough to convince Sun it was time to deal honestly with the Americans, for whom they'd lost respect over the last two decades.

“He not only agreed to the new security arrangements we've been discussing, but he's eager to reassess his country's predatory trade and currency practices.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You sound like you're busy. Did I call at a bad time?”

“No. I'm almost through here. Go on.”

“Sun said that fair and balanced trade benefited everybody, his country most of all. He even acknowledged China's role in helping to create the imbalances that currently exist, especially the trade deficits. He clearly understands that stability means security in both economic and military matters, for his country as well as ours.”

“Sounds like a home run. Congratulations.”

“It's not a home run yet.” She explained that Lane was going to have hell to pay as he tried to rein in the legions of former congressmen and generals who staffed the big lobbying firms swarming all over Capitol Hill. They were the ones perpetuating the current crony-capitalist system beggaring the country and profiting most from China's rapacious trade policies.

“That's why I don't do politics,” Pearce said. His construction drone was nearly in position.

“Do you have any more thoughts about the president's offer?” Myers asked.

“What offer?”

“Drone Command. He still hopes you'll take it.”

“Jury's still out on that one. Can't imagine myself setting up another government bureaucracy.”

“I'd hope not. New wineskins and all of that.”

“Look, I'm sorry to cut you off, but I've got to go.”

“Sure. I'll be at the hotel by six o'clock tonight. Can you meet me there?”

“Try and keep me away.” Pearce could feel her smiling on the other end of the phone.

She rang off.

Instantly, Pearce's face hardened with resolve.

Mann stepped closer. The lanky German fingered his beard, worried. “You sure about this?”

“Never more sure of anything.”

“
Ja.
I believe you.”

“Do me a favor and go grab yourself a cup of coffee. I don't want you in here.” August was one of Pearce's oldest friends and the first man he hired into Pearce Systems. Pearce wouldn't allow his loyal friend to bear witness to an event that could land the German in prison if things went sideways, especially with a wife and two young kids at home.

“You're the boss.”

“Maybe get a donut, too. Take your time.”

Mann sighed with relief. “Thanks.”

The trailer door shut behind Mann. Pearce gripped the joysticks and maneuvered the drone into its final position over the deep hole, then activated another set of controls and lowered the cylinder into the contaminated water. Once it was fully submerged, he turned on another monitor and punched a few keys. An LED light popped on inside the cylinder.

Tanaka's panicked, hyperventilating face filled the fish-eye camera. His desperate breathing rasped on the monitor speakers.

“Your breath-stealing gods must be smiling now,” Pearce whispered. He punched another key, snapping off the LED light, throwing Tanaka into soul-crushing darkness. Frantic screams poured out of the monitor speakers.

Pearce punched another button and silenced the speaker, leaving Tanaka to his fate, buried alive beneath a nuclear shroud. In a few minutes, the remote-controlled cement truck would appear and seal him in his tomb forever.

His phone buzzed. A text message from Myers. “Forgot to tell you. Lane has another job for us.”

“What job?” he texted back.

“We can talk about it later. Stay safe.”

“Okay.”

She sent another. “Can't wait to see you tonight.”

“Same here.”

And then she sent one more. “You okay?”

Pearce stared at the text. He wasn't sure.

He wondered what she'd think of him if she knew what he was doing. She deserved better.

He stared at the blacked-out monitor. Imagined Tanaka's breathless hell. Felt his own claustrophobia closing in. A nightmare. Guilt whispered somewhere deep inside but Yamada's mangled corpse shouted it away.

He needed a drink. Reached for Mann's pack of smokes instead but held off, remembering how Will had died. He settled for a stick of gum. Texted Myers.

“Yeah. Doing okay.”

And he
was.

First and foremost, thanks to my new editor, Sara Minnich. You couldn't have made the transition any easier and your notes were spot-on. I'm thoroughly indebted to the entire team at G. P. Putnam's Sons for their invaluable support, particularly Ivan Held's steadfast commitment to the series.

My literary superagent, David Hale Smith at InkWell Management, is still on point, cutting fresh trails and kicking down doors for me and the Pearce Systems crew. It doesn't get any better than that. Stay tuned.

One of the joys of writing novels is the opportunity to meet the hardworking bookstore owners, managers, and staff around the country who sell them. I was particularly well cared for by Barbara Peters (The Poisoned Pen, Scottsdale), McKenna Jordan (Murder by the Book, Houston), Bob White (Sundog Books, Seaside), Amy Harper (Barnes & Noble, Lewisville), Michelle Abele (Barnes & Noble, Knoxville), and Gordon Brugman (Books-A-Million, Sevierville). Thanks again to you all—hope to see you soon.

I rely on the keen insight of friends and family on the first drafts of every novel, including this one. My first and best reader is always my remarkable wife, Angela, who apparently missed her calling in the literary world. I am especially grateful this go-around to Robbie D. Scruggs, U.S. Navy Captain (Retired) for our
Drone Command
correspondence and distant friendship. Martin Hironaga, as always, gave me a close and insightful reading. Of course, mistakes in the manuscript, fictional or otherwise, are entirely my own.

I also owe a special debt of gratitude to the amazing Nita Taublib, who first saw the potential in Troy Pearce, Margaret Myers, and a certain unpublished author. Blessings on your head.

Finally, thanks to all of you who support Troy & Co. in print, digital, and audio formats. It's been a privilege to connect with readers and fans through social media. If you haven't already done so, please join us in the conversation on Facebook and
Twitter.

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