The Drone Directive

By Anthony Joseph

The drones appeared from nowhere dispensing hard justice. The police didn't know where they came from or who controlled them and the public was scared. Only Mike Ventura, a hardboiled Phoenix detective haunted by a dark past, and Carlos Pelligro, a street smart kid from Phoenix, have any hope of solving the mystery. But to do so, they have to put aside their differences and find a way to work together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony Joseph
• Release date: Apr 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393655657

Book preview

1.

It was a late night. The snow was falling and accumulating fast. Josh Sterling, a teaching assistant at MIT, sat alone in a lab, grading papers at his desk. Josh had decided not to go home for winter break this year. He had too much to do between coming up with an idea for a project for his thesis and grading papers.

Josh finished grading the last of his class's papers, stood, stretched, and walked over to a window and opened it slightly so he could indulge in his only vice. He lit a cigarette and took a drag, inhaling deeply. A cold January air blew into the lab.

Josh looked out at the cold dark city. He hoped to be somewhere warm like California in the near future, making good money and living large, but to do that he had to come up with a thesis that would not only bring him an A, but also entice a tech firm to offer him a position as a project manager.

He looked over at a cardboard box in the corner of the lab that a friend had given him. The box was filled with Professor Stern's assignments and projects from the incoming freshman class. They were all destined for the shredder. Josh went over to the box, bent down, and started looking through the various reports and proposals. Most were crap.

Then he saw it, a simple two-page report with no cover. The pages were held together with a paperclip. A flash drive was taped to the front page. It looked like something a high school student from a shop class would submit. But clipped to the report was a note that said, Look at this one. I think you’ll like it. – T. The report was titled The Bumblebee.

Josh loosened the flash drive from the tape, went to his work area, and popped it into his laptop. As he scrolled through the data file which contained schematics and mathematical equations, his eyes widened. He sat down and for forty minutes quietly studied the proposal. His excitement grew as he read further into the report.

He smiled.

He had his idea for a thesis.

He grabbed a pen and scrawled onto a blank sheet of paper, The Drone Directive.  He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, imagining the California warmth on his face.

2.

Jill Masters drove her 2009 Toyota Sienna onto a winding road just off of the Phoenix expressway. She went one mile further on, and stopped at Roger's Friendly Farmer's Market, her regular Tuesday morning stop. The fruit and vegetables at Roger's were more expensive than those found in the local supermarkets in Phoenix, but the produce was fresher, and Emily, her five-year-old daughter, was more inclined to eat her vegetables when she helped pick them herself. Emily was at the moment in the back seat watching an animated princes’ flick for what seemed like the millionth time.

Jill's van kicked up dust from the road as it approached the farmers’ stands. Even in March, the air was already stifling hot as the sun slowly climbed in the sky, but the morning hours were the best time to run errands before temperatures reached triple digits.

Jill reached the parking area, taking a spot by a rocky sand dune. Emily's attention was diverted from the movie by the small desert lizards that darted to-and-fro outside on the ground. The lot was already full of Buicks, SUVs, and mini vans.

Jill, dressed in jeans and a pink blouse, reached back and unhooked Emily from her child safety seat. Emily was dressed like her mom, sporting blue jeans and a pink shirt. She eagerly jumped out of her seat, pushed the button that opened the side door of the van, and made her way outside.

Jill grabbed some grocery bags from the back, took Emily's hand, and locked the van. Jill noticed a new utility pole by the entrance to the lot. It was curious since there were no lines connected to it. Emily started tugging on Jill’s hand to get going. Jill and Emily started making their way over to the fruit and vegetable stands set up in neat rows near the roadside by the lot.

The market had been in this location since Jill had moved to Phoenix six years before. Each of the stands was individually owned by a local farmer, mostly Mexican illegals trying to make a go of it in the United States. The name, Roger's Friendly Farmers Market, was supposed to draw attention away from the fact that illegals ran the market, but it was the worst kept secret in the area. All the cops knew the deal, and they didn’t care. They had real crimes to deal with. The federal deportation mandate was not their concern. It also helped that many of the cops’ wives frequented the market. Not many people in the area saw any harm in a person, even an illegal, making a living.

On this day, the shoppers at the market were a few retirees and some stay-at-home moms out running their errands. Jill was not a stay at home mom. She worked. She worked really hard. Emily's dad, Jill’s fiancé, died before they could get married. Jill was left alone with no benefits, trying to do the best that she could. She held down two jobs, one as a waitress and another at a salon doing hair and nails. Tuesday was her day off, her only day off, when she tried to get all her errands done for the week and fit in some mother and daughter activities with Emily.

Jill and Emily walked from stand to stand picking out strawberries, avocados, tomatoes, and whatever else looked good. Upon reaching the lettuce stand, Maria, the proprietor, greeted her.

Maria was a tiny woman in her late fifties with leathery skin, black eyes, and black hair. She was wiry and strong and wore a long dark skirt, a blue shirt, and a leather vest. A tan Tilley hat covered her head.

Emily! Are you helping your mommy today? Maria said.

Emily eagerly nodded.

Jill picked up a head of lettuce. Good morning, Maria. Everything looks great.  

Picked this morning, Maria replied.

Emily peaked over the edge of the table, looking from one lettuce head to another.

What are you looking for? Maria said.

An inchworm. 

Ay, no, you won't find any here, replied Maria.

We found one last week, said Jill.

I'm so sorry, Maria said sheepishly.

Not a problem. Emily made it her pet.

Emily jumped up and down. Named him Charlie and put him in a jar with some lettuce and a stick for him to climb... but he ‘scaped.

Escaped, Jill said, correcting her. She was hoping to find another one.

Maria smiled. I don't think you'll find any today, but I'll look for one at the farm and bring it for you next week, if that's okay? Maria looked over at Jill and winked.

Jill smiled and silently mouthed no, then picked up a lettuce head, packed it into a bag, paid Maria and walked to the next stand. In the corner of her eye she caught sight of two young men, boys really, by an old beat up red Trans am across the road. She got a funny feeling but brushed it aside. Emily tugged at Jill’s arm when they passed by a fruit stand, so Jill stopped and started picking out some apples.

3.

Across the road from the market, the boys with the Trans am, Emilio and Jimmy, leaned against their car, smoking, and biding their time. At seventeen, they both had the look of experienced delinquents, but they were more than that. In the past six months they had been busy. When they weren't getting high in their camper, they were robbing gas stations and 7-Elevens. Their last job had gone south when the owner of a small gas station fought back. The boys gave him a bad beating. The man was in a coma. They thought they had been caught on video, but they weren't. The store owner had never hooked up the camera.

After two weeks passed, their money ran out, and realizing the cops never came looking for them, Emilio and Jimmy got their nerve up, and went back on the prowl looking for an easy, safe score away from cameras. It was while they were driving around in the desert backroads that they saw Roger's Friendly Farmers Market. It occurred to them that a popular farmers market in the outskirts of the city with no cameras in sight was a perfect target, especially with a bunch of well to do white moms and retirees shopping with cash. The market didn't accept credit cards or checks.

Emilio finished his cigarette, flicked it to the ground, and looked at Jimmy. Ready? 

Jimmy smiled and flicked his away too. Let's do it.

Jimmy reached into the Trans am passenger’s seat through the open window and grabbed a big plastic trash bag and unfurled it. Emilio turned away from the road and looked down at his waist. He pulled out a .357 magnum revolver. He checked the cylinder. It was fully loaded. He held it down at his side, hiding it from view, and turned back around. The two smiled at each other and started walking across the road to the market. Halfway across the road they broke into a run, like lions chasing a gazelle. They stopped in the middle of the market. Emilio raised the gun and swept the area with it, pointing at no one and everyone. The shoppers and merchants froze.

We make this quick and no one gets hurt, Emilio shouted.

Jimmy ran over to an old lady, snatched her purse, and dumped its contents into the trash bag.

Wallets, purses, and cash, NOW! he shouted.

Most of the people didn't move; they were too terrified to do anything. Jimmy ran from one person to the next, grabbing their valuables.

Jill had seen the boys running towards the market at full speed. When she saw one of them holding a gun, she froze and held onto Emily, trying to keep calm. There was nothing else she could do.

Jill saw Maria come out from behind her stand as the boys were systematically robbing the customers.

You get out of here, Maria shouted. You give us all a bad name.

One of the boys walked over to her and pointed his gun at her face. Shut up, grandma.

Maria looked at him defiantly and spit at the ground by his feet. The boy hit her on the side of the face with his gun. Maria fell to her knees, then down to the ground. The crowd tensed but stayed quiet. The boy swept the crowd again with his gun. Just about everyone took a step back, but not Jill. Jill, unable to stop herself, released Emily's hand and ran over to Maria, who now lay face down on the ground. Jill kneeled and checked Maria's head. The boy looked down at her.

Jill looked up at him. You animal! she screamed.

The boy looked nervously down at her, then tensed up. He bared his teeth in anger just as the other boy approached.

Chill, man, the boy with the bag said to his confederate. He then looked at Jill and said, Is she all right?

Jill was holding Maria’s head on her lap. She didn’t respond.

Across the way, Emily, confused and alone, stood by the apple stand sobbing gently. She then heard a weird noise, a faint buzzing sound that was growing louder. Emily looked around and then up at the sky. She cried out, Look, Mommy, big dragonflies! 

Jill heard Emily say something about dragonflies. She heard the buzzing too. It grew louder by the second. She looked over to where Emily was pointing and then, one by one, the other people in the market looked up as well to see black drones, twenty of them, as they appeared in the sky. The drones looked like large black dragonflies. The drones descended in a tight circular formation. The two boys were the last to turn and see the drones. Jill noticed that each drone had four-gun barrels.

What the fuck? The boy holding the gun said. He stepped back, looked at the other boy with fear in his eyes and dread written across his face.

Let's get out of here, the other boy responded.

Fuck that. They're just toys, the boy holding the gun said. He pointed his gun at the drones and fired two shots.

He missed.

The drones, like angered bees, broke formation, targeted the two boys, and opened fire.

A woman cried out, They’re going to kill us all! Pandemonium ensued as people screamed, ran, and hid.

Jill ran over to Emily, threw her to the ground, and covered her with her body. Then, just like that, the shooting and screaming stopped. The only sound Jill heard was the desert wind, sobbing, and the buzzing. Jill got to her knees and checked Emily. She was okay. Jill then saw the two boys. They lay on the ground. Their bodies were riddled with gun shots. The scene was a bloody mess. The drones hovered ten feet over them.

Look, Mommy, the dragon flies stopped those bad men, Emily said.

Jill didn't say a word.

The drones, while in a circular formation, held position around the bodies of the two boys for a minute, then ascended and flew off into the western sky.

Jill stood up slowly and looked around as people tried to compose themselves. She saw a teenage girl by the strawberry stand recording the scene on her cellphone.

4.

In the fall, when football season is in full swing, Sun Devil's Stadium is a beehive of activity with professional and college football games on the weekends and maintenance crews and practice squads at work on weekdays. Most years in March the stadium is empty and quiet, but not this March. This March is an exception, this March, the stadium is experiencing racing, a new kind of racing, drone racing, blindingly fast with high pitched buzzing filling every inch of the stadium.

About twenty spectators were in the stands, but over twenty thousand people were streaming the race. The Wasp, a bright yellow drone with a black stripe, zoomed through the maze of empty tunnels where the concession stands would normally be.

In the stands, an old man, Otis Henderson, wearing a leather driver's cap, polo shirt, and khakis, smiled and clapped as the Wasp raced out of the tunnels and into the stadium.

Two drones pursued the Wasp, hot on its tail.

The speed of the machines made it difficult to follow with the naked eye. It was especially tough for Otis, who, at seventy-one years of age, had failing eyesight and a cataract in his left eye. Age and too many punches to the face had done a number on his vision. He had been told to have surgery to improve his sight, but he didn't trust doctors and was afraid of coming out of the operation a blind man.

The drones raced two laps around the outside perimeter of the football field, then disappeared back into the tunnels inside the stadium. People in the stands had to look to the giant tele-tron screen to watch the race as it continued in the tunnels. Otis focused on the yellow blur and cheered as hard as he could for the Wasp. The Wasp was Carlos Pelligro's drone.

In the middle of the stadium, inside a luxury box, Carlos Pelligro sat on a gaming chair, holding a controller, and wearing VR goggles. He bobbed and weaved in unison with the Wasp's movements on the racetrack, one with the machine, oblivious to everyone and everything around him.

Next to Carlos sat two other racers, Jake Chandler, and Ty Mathers, two twenty-somethings. They looked like NASCAR drivers dressed in red jump suits splattered with corporate logos. Jake was thin, muscular, with short hair, and Ty was heavy set and sported a mullet. Unlike Carlos, Jake and Ty were machine-like as they worked their controllers.

The fourth racer was the most impressive of the four, Josh Sterling, athletic, tall, and sinewy. He stood throughout the whole race. He was like a statue. The only movement came from his fingers manipulating his controller. Everyone knew that Josh, an MIT graduate, was smart, some said a genius, but his piloting skills were beyond compare. He made sure everyone was aware of it. He wore a black T-shirt with MIT - I've got Game printed across the chest to emphasize the point and a black cap with X-12, in white letters. X-12 was a state-of-the-art drone. Josh considered it his magnum opus.

Carlos with his dance like movements and restless energy along with his wardrobe, an oversized white t-shirt, and jeans, stood out from the group of four like the proverbial sore thumb.

In the stadium, the race intensified. The Wasp swept past Josh's drone.

Carlos, loud enough to be heard by the others, blurted out, See ya. 

Josh, unfazed, worked his controller. X-12 banked wide and up on a turn around the field, and with a burst of speed flew past the Wasp, almost sending it crashing into the empty stadium seats. Josh smirked.

Carlos regained control of the Wasp. The Wasp hugged the designated inside lane. Behind it, the two other drones caught up to it as X-12 pulled away. The two drones tried to block the Wasp; Carlos jumped up from his chair. Fuck no, he said. The Wasp's rotors revved up to the max, and the little yellow drone skirted past the two drones and began making up lost ground   on X-12.

In the stands, Otis looked on. He remembered when Carlos, barely fourteen years old, came into his shop to get some wire for one of his computer projects. The kid was quiet and moody. Otis could tell there was a deep hurt and anger in him. Otis was always good at getting to the core of people. When he asked the kid what the wire was for, Carlos told him he was building his own computer. Otis gave him the wire and, on a whim, asked Carlos to work at the shop cleaning up and helping repair the more complicated TVs that came in. Carlos said yes. Carlos had been working with Otis ever since.

Before Carlos started working at the shop, Otis had run his TV repair shop, Otis’s Knockout TV Repair, for years and barely made a profit. He had started the repair shop after retiring from boxing. The shop earned him a living for a while, but when TVs and radios became disposable, the shop became an anachronism. Even if people came to him to have some electronic equipment fixed, Otis couldn't do it. He understood transistors and vacuum tubes, not computer chips. Otis had been ready to close when he met Carlos, but once Carlos started working with Otis, everything turned around. Carlos could fix just about anything.

Carlos was now nineteen, and the shop focused mostly on computer and cell phone repairs, though it remained with the name, Otis’s Knockout TV Repair. The shop's reputation spread as being the place to go to fix computers, laptops, and smart phones. The shop began turning a profit, so Otis not only paid Carlos a salary, but he gave him a cut of the profits when he could. It had been a good arrangement. Carlos had a job, and he could scavenge parts and buy whatever else he needed for his projects, mostly RC vehicles, and drones.

Carlos was big into RC cars and planes, but drones were his obsession. Carlos was always tinkering and working on new schematics for his drones. He had told Otis about the fledgling drone racing group, the World Drone Racing Association, WDR, that had sprung up in Phoenix six months prior to the race. Soon after that he began building a prototype that he could race. Carlos had told Otis that he wanted to enter a race to win, get the prize money and become famous. It was a good plan, but Otis didn’t buy it. He felt there was something more going on. Otis figured that in due time Carlos would tell him. Until then Otis was happy to support Carlos in any way that he could.

A week ago, Carlos had signed up as a contestant with WDR. Today he was in the semi-finals.

5.

The studio control room in the Sun Devils Stadium was state of the art. It had a glass cockpit, vision mixer, a character generator, and all the other equipment required to produce a sports spectacle. It was all part of a big bet, the potential success of drone racing.

The director, John Silber, mid-forties, wearing a worn Purple t-shirt and jeans, and until recently unemployed, was happy to have a job, but wondered how the owners, Eddie Smalls and Josh Sterling, barely in their late twenties, were able to convince the stadium owners to lease out the stadium and buy all the studio equipment, especially since they didn’t seem to be making any money. For now, though, it didn’t matter. He had a job.

John was watching the monitors, each displaying the race from different locations via cameras located throughout the stadium. He directed the movement of each camera remotely so later they could edit the footage into a seamless package that could be posted on the Race Channel. It wasn't NASCAR, John thought, but maybe one day it could be just as big, and then he could say he had started with it on the ground floor.

Next to John Silber, Eddie Smalls, always dressed to the nines, was in a designer black suit and white turtleneck. He watched the race, completely focused, and locked in on every move both in the arena and inside the box where the pilots were stationed.

John muttered, Reckless.

Eddie glanced over. What?

Pelligro is reckless, John said.

He’s fucking fearless. Audiences like that.

Spikes, the assistant director, wearing cargo pants and sweatshirt, sat behind John. He was watching the race instead of working it.

Shit! Pelligro passed him, Spikes said.

Do your job and focus on the shot, John said.

Spikes looked at Jeremy, the programmer on his left and gave John the middle finger behind his back.

Jeremy smiled and had to hold back a chuckle.

John saw the reflection of what was going on behind him but didn’t say a word.

The race was nearing the end. Carlos Pelligro’s drone was in the lead.

Eddie bit his lip. Josh was not supposed to lose. His drone was state of the art. If he got beaten by a nobody, he would be impossible to be around.

Outside on the racecourse, the Wasp stayed in the lead with X-12 inches behind it. The two other drones piloted by Jake and Ty were two yards behind. They had little hope to overtake either the Wasp or X-12.

As the Wasp approached the finish, X-12 inched up behind it, tilted up its front rotor, ripping into the Wasp's rear. The Wasp lost control. It smashed into a concrete wall and shattered. The race was over for the Wasp.

X-12 pulled away and approached the finish.

Inside the luxury box, Carlos furiously threw off his goggles.

Fucker!

Josh didn’t respond, though a small almost imperceptible smile crossed his face.

Carlos looked down at a toggle on his controller. He hesitated for a moment, then threw the switch. In the race concourse where what was left of the Wasp lay, one of its components began to vibrate ever so slightly. A second later, in the distance, X-12 froze up, its momentum sent it on a downward spiral to the ground into some netting past the finish line. Jake and Ty's drones also froze up, their drones crashed and shattered on the concrete floor of the stadium.

Inside the luxury box, Josh removed his goggles and glanced at Carlos. Carlos smirked and set down his controller.

Tough break, Carlos said with a smile.

I won anyway, Josh said.

Bullshit.

Josh turned and walked away.

Inside the control room Eddie jumped up.

Yes! GODDAM! he exclaimed. Josh’s reputation was intact.

6.

Jessica O'Connor, twenty-four, had always had striking looks, and she was well aware of it. She had wanted to be a singer but discovered at a young age that she was tone deaf. She then tried acting but was told she had no talent. All she had was good looks, so she entered some beauty contests, won some, but not enough of them to get to the national level. She then decided she would break into media and become a reporter. A