That Time in Cairo by Logan Ryles (books to read in a lifetime .txt) 📗

a problem for small drones, it’s true. That’s why I had this one custom-built, using a battery design very similar to the batteries used in modern electric cars. On a full charge, it can fly as long as two hours, using most of its power for takeoff and aggressive maneuvers, and running on only four propellers when cruising.”

“That’s a big battery,” Wolfgang said. “How much does it weigh?”

“A lot. About eighty pounds, actually, which is why the motors had to be so big. It’s kind of a catch twenty-two. You make a bigger battery for longer flight time, and that requires stronger motors to lift it, which weigh more, and therefore drain the battery faster. But with the carbon fiber and stuff, we cut weight wherever we could. The drone actually has a net payload capacity of forty pounds, after the weight of the battery.”

Wolfgang watched as Lyle attached parts and tightened screws. The tech moved with the speed and efficiency of a child assembling a new Lego set.

“Just out of curiosity,” Wolfgang said, “how much did this thing cost?”

Lyle grinned. “About twice what I told Edric, and he hasn’t gotten the invoice yet. So, let’s not worry about that.”

3

It wasn’t warm in Egypt; it was hot. As Wolfgang stepped off the plane and into the bright sun of mid-afternoon, he ran a hand through his hair and thought back to Buffalo, only a day prior. Cairo couldn’t be more different from New York—with not a cloud in the sky, and open expanses of desert all around them. The sun beat down like the tail end of a rocket engine, pumping waves of heat over the desert and leaving everything feeling dry and desolate.

The private airfield lay about ten kilometers southwest of Giza, which was built on the western banks of the Nile River. Cairo itself was built along the eastern banks, and if Wolfgang squinted, he could make out the hazy glimmer of glass towers amid sandblasted stone ones in the distance, rising out of the desert. He held his hand above his eyes and swept his gaze along the horizon, hoping to make out the Great Pyramid, or perhaps the Sphinx.

“The pyramids are west of the city,” Kevin said, stepping up beside him. “You can’t see them from here, but we’ll pass them on the way in.”

Kevin offered Wolfgang a pair of Ray-Bans, and Wolfgang nodded his thanks.

“You’ve been here before?”

Kevin didn’t answer, staring at the desert behind the shade of his glasses. Something about his posture was stiffer than normal, almost edgy, and Wolfgang suddenly wondered if Charlie Team had visited Cairo before. Maybe they found their way into Damascus—the site of their last mission before Wolfgang joined them—by way of Cairo. That mission had resulted in Edric’s arm injury and the vacancy Wolfgang had filled.

“Huddle up!” Edric said.

Wolfgang and Kevin returned to the plane, where Edric stood with a map held in his good hand. Megan and Lyle appeared, both dressed in long-sleeve shirts and sunglasses. Megan’s hair was suspended in her customary ponytail, and she was busy smearing sunscreen around her nose. Wolfgang realized he was staring and looked away before she caught him.

“There’s a 4Runner and a van in the hangar.” Edric jammed his thumb at a nearby hangar, then pointed to the map. “The Egyptian Museum is here, right in the heart of the city. You guys will take the Cruiser and find a place to park, then establish a perimeter. Lyle, what about coms?”

“I’ve got battery pack transmitters for everybody to wear on their hips. They aren’t as covert as the smaller units, but the batteries will last longer. After nightfall, we can use the drone for additional surveillance and support.”

“Perfect. Dr. Pollins should work until nightfall anyway.” Edric squinted at the map, then pointed at the parking garage five blocks from the museum. “Lyle and I will park the van here and assume operational control. Megan, you’ve got ground control.”

Edric rolled up the map, then led the way inside the hangar. A pure white, late-model Ford Transit van waited in the shadows. Next to it was a desert tan Toyota 4Runner, with dusty windows and muddy tires.

Edric threw open the back doors of the Ford, revealing Lyle’s usual setup inside—a desk and rolling chair with a couple boxes full of odds and ends.

Edric opened one of the boxes and handed out pistols from inside. “Engagement rules are set to Code Yellow.”

Wolfgang reviewed Edric’s handbook of regulations in his mind. Code Yellow: Armed, but do not fire unless fired upon.

Wolfgang accepted the Berretta 92x Compact handgun and the shoulder holster that accompanied it. A silencer rode in a pouch next to the gun, and two extra magazines of ammunition were tucked into a pouch on the offside of the holster. He put it on, then fit a loose, long-sleeve shirt over it.

“Let me be clear,” Edric said as he slid on his own holster. “This isn’t Baghdad. Cairo is a civilized city. But it’s not a safe place, either. Avoid contact, and avoid conflict. Use your best judgment when interacting with locals, and for God’s sake, let’s not get arrested this time.”

Everybody looked at Wolfgang, and he blushed.

“I’m driving,” Megan said, taking the keys to the 4Runner.

“Shotgun,” Kevin shouted, shoving Wolfgang in the shoulder.

Wolfgang gritted his teeth as he gathered up his communications equipment and turned to follow.

Some things never change.

Megan powered the 4Runner out of the hangar and onto the road, her eyes sheltered by dark sunglasses that accentuated her round face. Wolfgang took the back seat, piling in next to a cooler full of sandwiches and water bottles. He absentmindedly wondered who prepared all of their equipment and had it waiting when they landed, then he shrugged the curiosity off. SPIRE was a massive company with a deep pocket. He just hoped the sandwiches weren’t soggy.

Dust rose from the pavement as they plowed toward the city. The small buildings and narrow streets around them grew taller and