Free Waterkill (Dave Henson Series) by Mark Donovan Page A

okay with the two of you?”
    Dave and Ron Blackwell had been inseparable friends and colleagues since their days at Stanford University. Ron had worked at previous companies with Dave and was currently NSurv’s Director of Engineering for its Nanotechnology Electronics division. Also, at six feet four inches and two hundred and fifty pounds, and an ex-tightend football player at Stanford, Ron had also proved his value out in the field in other ways. Besides being extremely fit, he was also an experienced back country hiker and an excellent marksman. 
    “Not an issue,” responded McDonald. “We will fly you and your wife out of Andrews Air Force Base early tomorrow morning and stop in McCall, Idaho to allow you to pick up whatever and whomever you need.”
    “Okay, I will call Ron and let him know to be ready and to gather the necessary equipment.”
    “Excellent. Plan for a Homeland Security Agent to pick you up at your hotel room at five o’clock tomorrow morning,” said McDonald. “He will escort you to Andrews, and get you and your wife seated aboard the jet.”
    McDonald opened up the door to the conference room and said goodbye to Dave and John.
    “I am sure you are exhausted,” said John. “I’ll take you back to your hotel where you can make your phone call back to McCall and prep Dana for the early morning flight tomorrow.”
    “Thank you John. I am pretty tired, but I doubt I’ll be getting a lot of sleep tonight.”
    John turned off the conference room lights as the two exited the room. Thirty minutes later John dropped Dave off in front of his hotel and the two said their goodbyes. As Dave made his way up to his hotel room he was already formulating a list in his head of what surveillance tools would be most appropriate for finding a crystal ball in a mountainous snow field.

Chapter 8 (April 12, Wednesday 2:30pm, Alaska)
    It was more of a dirt wedge cut into the rugged Alaskan wilderness than it was an airport. The gravel runway was only two thousand five hundred feet long and fifty feet wide. Other than the airstrip itself snow still blanketed the surrounding landscape. The airfield was located in the heart of the Mertie Mountains, an Alaskan mountain range named after the famed geologist John Beaver Mertie who crisscrossed the Yukon-Tanana area for thirty-nine years in the early 1900s. However, Chicken Airport in east-central Alaska was now command headquarters for the search and recovery operation of the Cessna 206 aircraft that had gone down ten days earlier. Several field tents were set up along the southwest side of the airstrip. Two dozen men dressed in winter border patrol clothing milled around the tents.  As many snow machines also surrounded the tents. On the airport ramp sat two UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters and four United States Air Force Light Lift Cessna 208 Caravans.
    Dave and Ron Blackwell, along with several Department of Homeland Border Patrol Special Ops Group agents, had arrived from Fairbanks an hour earlier on one of the Cessna 208 Caravans. They were standing in the largest tent, which served as the command center for the operation, and were talking with the Chief Patrol Agent in charge of the search and recovery operation. The two were explaining to the chief a new high tech drone device that they had brought with them from NSurv.
    “The Hunter-Falcon is specifically designed for locating small targets in a vast area,” said Ron, as Chief Patrol Agent Dwight Davis listened with focused interest. Ron was pointing at a large open plastic shipping box and holding one of the Hunter-Falcons in his hands. In the box were hundreds of small fist size translucent objects with gossamer type wings attached to them.
    Each Hunter-Falcon was approximately the size of a tennis ball, however, they were football shaped rather than round. The translucent gossamer wings wrapped around the body of the small drone in a curved shape. On one end of the Hunter-Falcon was a small clear plastic