Before the botched raid had started the old man had summoned a nurse, demanding she give him ‘a shot of juice’ to ensure he was alert, and waving away her protests and lecture on the dangerous side effects of the drug. When she’d administered the dose via intravenous tube, the change had been extraordinary. Now faced with a reenergized and angry father, Zander wished he’d insisted Melk Senior listen to the nurse’s objections. The monitor they’d been watching was now wrecked, sporting a jagged, gaping hole where his father had hurled a glass through it. Before this, and despite the loss of visual contact as one by one the drones went down, the two had heard everything relayed between the base and the ARM unit through the speakers. The unnerving silence stretched out for what seemed like for ever, until his father finally spoke. ‘What on Scorched Earth did you think you were doing?’ he asked. ‘You can’t possibly blame me for the unsuccessful outcome of this mission. I was not personally in charge of those men.
