Collateral Damage by Dale Brown Page A

helped defer some of the questions,” said General Branson. “I just hope it doesn’t backfire.”
    â€œI talked to the senator personally,” said Ms. Todd. “I think he’ll do an excellent job.”
    â€œFor us,” added Blitz.
    â€œFor everyone.”
    The President glanced at Breanna. She had a vaguely worried look on her face.
    â€œI don’t expect Jeff to mince any words,” the President added. “I know that he’ll be a straight shooter. But really, that’s the best we can hope for. And we will fix the problem.”
    â€œWe will,” said Breanna.
    â€œAll right, very good,” she told them, rising. “We all have a lot to do. Keep me up to date on this.”
    The deputy chief of staff was waiting in the hall with her news briefing as she went out.
    â€œHow are the reports?” she asked.
    â€œYou want the good ones or the bad ones?”
    â€œGood ones first.”
    â€œThere’s a headline from the New York Post : American killer drone wipes out village.”
    â€œThat’s a good one?”
    â€œWait to you see what al Jazeera has.”
    â€œI think I’ll save that for after lunch,” said Todd, stepping into the elevator.

10
    Sicily
    T o know why something had failed, one first had to know exactly what had happened.
    This was not necessarily easy. In the case of the Sabre UAV, for example, hundreds of subsystems contributed to the aircraft’s flight behavior, and while the main focus was on the flight computers and AI sections, the systems that it interacted with had to be investigated on their own. It was a laborious and time-consuming project.
    Despite a well-earned reputation for being exacting to the point of overbearing, Ray Rubeo no longer had the patience to oversee the myriad mundane details that needed to be attended to as the investigation proceeded. Instead, he turned to Robert Marcum, the vice president of his main American company, Applied Intelligence, tapping him to head the investigation. Marcum was among the most anal retentive people he employed.
    Which was saying quite a lot.
    Traveling from Paris, where he had been overseeing another project, Marcum arrived in Sicily shortly after Rubeo, but already had an impressive investigative team in place. They were given a small facility at the air base, and rented much larger quarters about five miles away. These quarters consisted of the top three floors of an eight-story building perched above a series of hills that cascaded down toward the seacoast some ten miles away.
    The executive suite on the eastern side of the top floor had a gorgeous view, and even Rubeo had a difficult time concentrating on the video projection as Marcum briefed him on what was known so far about the accident.
    â€œPilot action from the Tigershark can now be one hundred percent ruled out,” said Marcum. He had worked as an engineer for many years before going into administration. “The flight records have been carefully reviewed. He gave no command that altered their flight.”
    â€œYou’ve looked at the logs yourself?” asked Rubeo. The two men were alone in the large, sparsely furnished room. Levon Jons had gone into town to arrange for more transportation and backup, in case they went to Africa.
    â€œOf course,” said Marcum. “The pilot was Captain Mako. He’s been flying for Special Projects for a few months. I don’t know too much about him personally. I’m told he’s an excellent pilot. Young.”
    â€œVery young, yes,” said Rubeo.
    â€œAdditionally, we are fifty-eight percent through with our checks on the Tigershark. It would appear unlikely that it was involved in any way.”
    â€œI wonder if it’s a coincidence that the fighters were scrambled,” said Rubeo.
    â€œIn what way?”
    Rubeo folded his arms. The office chairs that had come with the rooms were deep leather contraptions that