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home.
    â€œGot the drones on autopilot,” Blake said. “Just circling at about 3000 feet. Nobody below has a clue we’re up there. Military grade stuff. Very cool.”
    And very expensive , King thought. Very, very expensive. Where did Blake get this kind of money, and why was he in this hotel room?
    Blake made a few keystrokes, and the camera zoomed in close enough on one of the SWAT soldiers to see the smoked-glass cover of his helmet.
    â€œObviously something is happening,” Blake said. “MJ and I have been monitoring the place for a couple of days. No one went in or out. Now this. You show up, and the action starts.”
    â€œThat’s our man,” MJ said. “The Kinger. Rocking and rolling. He always makes stuff happen.”
    On the screen, King saw the SWAT guy tilt his head as if scanning the sky. He pointed upward and made a motion for someone else to respond.
    â€œZoom back,” King said to Blake. “See if anyone else is looking up at us.”
    â€œWouldn’t be at our drone,” Blake said. “Its wingspan is only about six feet. As high as it is, it’s invisible and silent. The military has controllers in Colorado, buzzing the skies of Afghanistan with drones like these. They lock in on a target, and bam, it’s like a lightning bolt from out of nowhere.”
    â€œHumor me,” King said. “The guy was looking up for a reason. It’s like he’s calling for a shot.”
    More clicking. King reached toward the screen and pointed without touching. He knew Blake hated having anyone touch the screen. He knew it because MJ always forgot and touched the screen and Blake always elbowed MJ in the gut.
    â€œThere,” King said. “The guy with what looks like a bazooka.”
    Blake whistled. “Missile launcher.”
    â€œWhere exactly is this?” King asked, thinking if it was in a city somewhere, firing a missile wasn’t a great idea.
    â€œHigh desert east of the Cascades,” Blake said. “The guy lives in the middle of nothing. I’ll zoom out and show you how sandy and dry it is.”
    â€œNo need,” King said. “You’re not concerned about the guy with the missile launcher? That’s who I’d be watching. He’s pointing it right at the drone’s camera.”
    â€œProbably going to fire a warning shot to scare the guy inside. To me, that’s the bigger question—why are they taking this guy down? No way the shooter knows about the drone, and no way he could hit it at our altitude.”
    A flash came from the missile launcher. It was eerie to watch the action because it was in total silence.
    â€œHe’s shooting at something,” King said.
    â€œTen…” Mundie’s voice reached them as he counted in slow cadence. “Nine…eight…seven…”
    â€œIgnore him,” Blake said.
    â€œWhat’s on the other monitor?” King asked. “Looks like the hotel hallway.”
    Four guys in suits were walking sideways, swiveling their heads to glance up and down the hallway for danger. They had their hands inside their suit jackets, as if ready to reach for pistols.
    â€œSix…five…four…” Mundie continued from beneath the pillowcase over his head.
    â€œCrap,” Blake said. “Our hotel hallway.”
    â€œThree…two…one…” Mundie said. “The drone down yet?”
    The first monitor went dark.
    â€œCrap,” Blake said again. “He hit our drone. Impossible.”
    â€œYou guys have nowhere to hide,” Mundie said. “Now we’re about to rock and roll my way. My guys should be busting down the door in ten…nine…eight…”

CHAPTER 8
    â€œOkay,” MJ said in a high-pitched voice. “What we do is light the room on fire. It will set off a smoke detector and—”
    â€œMJ!” King said. “We’ll be in the burning