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thought made Abigail Love shiver.
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    B elle Haven Country Club
    Alexandria, Virginia

    J ake had never worked with the carrot-topped man but the warning Francesca had given him was right; his cocky demeanor was annoying. The tall thin engineer, known to him only as Matt, had worked for Elmore Wiley going on two years and had only one job function, pilot Wiley's miniature spy drones.
    Last year's drone was Wiley's electronic wasp equipped with an infrared video camera, microphone, and operated on three tiny watch batteries. Obsolete in comparison to Wiley's latest invention, which Matt called Skeeter, a spy drone the size and shape of a mosquito, also equipped with a video camera and microphone. The nanotechnology Wiley used allowed the mosquito replica to operate on a miniaturized single cell battery, which also served as the drone's torso. Although Skeeter didn't have infrared capability, it did have a needle capable of drawing a DNA sample, delivering a toxin, or injecting a micro RFID under the skin of its intended victim. The radio frequency identification device would allow the target to be tracked within a two-foot tolerance. Just like a real mosquito, Skeeter was propelled by flapping its silicone wings allowing it to hover, climb and descend, and travel at a speed of eight miles per hour in no-wind situations.
    Matt opened his case and pulled out a small box similar in size and appearance to that found in a jewelry store. He opened it and held it out for Jake to see. "Pretty cool, huh?" Matt snapped it closed.
    Earlier Jake had parked the black van belonging to Commonwealth Consultants in the back parking lot of the Hampton Inn on Richmond Highway just north of the Belle Haven Country Club fence.
    "Boden's tee time is in ten minutes, can you make it?"
    "Just let me do the flying, Navy boy, and we'll be fine. Now hold out your palm."
    Jake's initial urge was to punch the arrogant man in the face but he suppressed the feeling, knowing it would not sit well with Wiley. He held out his hand, palm up. Matt placed Skeeter on Jake's palm and turned to his command console.
    Matt flipped three buttons and wrapped his hands around two joysticks. "Now watch and learn."
    Skeeter's wings vibrated and the tiny drone lifted off Jake's palm. "Here we go," Matt said. The drone darted out the van's open side door.
    Jake stared at Matt's monitor and watched the ground pass underneath. The video was clear but somewhat grainy, certainly good enough to qualify for the task at hand. The drone flew over a small tributary then lifted over a row of trees and across the expanse of fairways at the golf course. Within seconds, the clubhouse came into view in the distance. It surprised Jake that his aging target could even swing a golf club without falling over. But it was a routine the man only missed when the weather was inclement or he was out of town.
    "Does this thing have a zoom?" Jake asked.
    "I wish. I'll have to fly it up close and personal for positive identification. That's why you're here. If I pop the wrong target, then you're to blame." Matt laughed.
    Francesca was right. Matt was a prick.
    Jake held his tongue and continued to watch. The view on the screen showed the clubhouse getting closer, a row of golf carts lined up at the tee box. "Guess you'll have to check each one. Start with one closest to the tee." Jake instructed.
    "Yeah, I think I got that much figured out."
    Matt piloted the mosquito drone past the first two golf carts. Nothing but a bunch of old men he didn't recognize. As the drone passed in front of the third cart, Jake saw something. "There." He pointed to the screen. "Fourth cart. The man with a cane, check him out."
    "Roger that," Matt replied.
    Jake watched Matt maneuver the drone around the third golf cart and sweep in front of the fourth. "Can you give me a close up of the man in the passenger seat?"
    "Of course." Matt's hands expertly tilted the joysticks from side to side as the view on the screen seemed