Drone Command

Two needle-shaped probes embedded in Tanaka’s back. Pearce pulled the trigger and sent five thousand volts of electricity coursing into Tanaka’s body, disrupting the neural signals between his brain and muscles. The blade dropped from his hand as his entire body contorted in a violent spasm, writhing on the polished wooden floor in searing pain. Tanaka hissed at Pearce through gritted teeth, eyes raging.

Pearce knelt down next to him, close to his contorted face. “No worries, Tanaka. Your gods will be smiling again, very soon.”

Pearce’s cell phone vibrated. A text message from Ian. His face blanched.

He texted Myers, now back in Denver. Told her where to meet him.

He glanced back down at Tanaka, passed out from the pain. “Enjoy it while it lasts, asshole,” Pearce grunted.

His plans for Kenji’s killer would have to wait a few days.

SEVENTY-SIX

PALLIATIVE CARE/HOSPICE UNIT

SAINT FRANCIS MEMORIAL HOSPITAL

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

26 MAY 2017

The self-possessed young woman behind the desk wore a nurse’s white coat over a black shirt, and a simple black nun’s veil draped behind her back. A gold-winged caduceus was pinned to one lapel; a humble silver crucifix was pinned to the other. “Only family. He left strict orders. I’m sorry.”

“He doesn’t have any family.” Pearce towered over the diminutive nun.

“He knows that and so do I. Since you do as well, then you must know that he’s a very private man and doesn’t want any visitors.” She was stopping Pearce cold with a disarming smile.

“We go a long way back. We used to work together.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“We used to work for the same… company.”

“You mean the CIA?” Another smile. A smirk, really. “Then you understand his need for security as well.”

Pearce chuckled. “I’m surprised he told you.”

“Confession is good for the soul.”

Pearce took a deep breath. Never realized that stubbornness was a religious virtue. “I’ve brought him something.”

She held out a delicate hand. “I’m happy to take it to him for you.”

“It would be better if I delivered it in person.”

“It would be better for me to give it to him than his not getting it at all, wouldn’t you agree?”

Pearce glanced around. No security. Hardly surprising. Who’d want to break into a hospice? She was all of a hundred pounds soaking wet. He could just walk past her. Decided against it. Played his trump card. Pointed a thumb at the woman standing next to him.

“Do you know who this is?”

The nun shook her head. “Should I?”

“She’s the godda—”

Myers quieted Pearce with a hand on his arm. “We’re friends, and we’ve come a very long way. Perhaps you can tell Will that Troy Pearce needs to see him? There can’t be any harm in that.” She flashed her own charming smile, but the commanding tone in her voice struck home.

“Perhaps not. Please wait here a moment.” She stepped away from the desk.

“Thank you, Sister.” After the nun disappeared around the corner, Myers shot Pearce a withering look. “Seriously? You were going to cuss out a nun?”

* * *

The nun led them down the quiet hallway past a number of patients’ doors, some of them open. The suites were furnished like living rooms rather than hospital rooms. Most of the patients they saw were alone or with medical staff. A priest was praying last rites over one.

They arrived at the end of the hall and stopped at the last closed door.

“He’s expecting you,” the nun said. “He has only twenty percent lung capacity. Please don’t be long. He’s very tired.” She instructed them to use the antibacterial hand sanitizer as often as possible to help avoid infection, nodded her condolences, and left.

Pearce laid his hand on the door. “Thanks again for doing this with me.”

Myers smiled. “Of course. But maybe you should go in by yourself.”

“No. I want you to meet him. He’s like a second dad to me.”

“Okay.”

Troy gently opened the door. He nearly lost it.

He’d been around death for most of his adult life, but seeing the shell of a man he’d once known as larger than life was harder than he thought possible. The adjustable bed was upright. Will was nearly skeletal, his flesh translucent and gray. His mouth was wide open, taking in short, shallow breaths. The skin around his mouth was nearly white. A hissing oxygen tube snaked from the wall behind his bed to his nose. Will’s thick silver hair was now blindingly white and wispy thin. The flesh around his eyes had shrunk, making the orbs appear huge in the sockets, but the green irises still radiated his penetrating intellect.

“How… the hell… are you… kid?” He clumped his words together, exhaling them out between breaths. He held up a large but emaciated hand. Pearce touched it gently, afraid to hurt him.

“Doing good. But look at you laying out. Isn’t there a junta you should be organizing somewhere?”

“Working… on… one… now. Gonna… take over… this place. More booze… less bingo.” He turned his head with effort. “Who’s… the pretty… lady?”

She laid a hand on his. “Margaret. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“You… with… him? Or does… a fellah… like me… still have… a chance?”