“Nearly silent,” she mumbles back. “Drones these days are designed to be stealthy and discreet. Especially ones created by the military to be taken into enemy combat overseas.”
The high-definition camera pans over the entire dockside, offering a bird’s eye view of the cargo ship currently anchored. Onboard, metal cranes systematically lift containers, stacking shipments ready for departure.
“This place is vast.”
“Good hiding spot, right?” Rayna hums.
“A little too good. It’ll be a minefield to infiltrate.”
Plonking a half-full coffee cup onto the table, Warner leans in to observe the laptop screen. “We have two teams and full surveillance from above.”
“Luis could have the same numbers or more. He knows we’re searching for him.”
“If he’s even here,” he comments. “There’s still a good chance Dominic gave up this location to lower his sentence. It could be a red herring.”
“He held out for eighteen hours,” I point out. “If your theory were true, he would’ve tattled much sooner to spare himself the pain. He’s going to prison either way.”
“I still don’t trust his intel.”
“You don’t trust anything or anyone.”
Warner casts me a glance. “That’s why we’re still alive.”
According to Dominic Pit, Luis has criminal connections in this region. I broke his fingers individually myself. He held out well. It wasn’t until I wrenched his premolar out that he finally snapped to reveal this location.
“What’s our play?” I study the drone’s view, high above the scene.
“We have a freight lorry prepped and ready to be driven into the port.” Forehead wrinkled while squinting at the monitor, it’s clear that Warner is deep in thought. “If Luis has a presence here, it’ll be hidden behind legitimate operations.”
“But why would he keep Tom in such an exposed location?”
“Close to the fastest exit out of the country and into Europe?” he retorts. “It’s strategically placed. They can split at a moment’s notice and vanish from underneath our noses.”
“But these ports are heavily regulated.”
“Safe to assume that local authorities are working as operatives, much like elsewhere.” Warner shrugs. “It makes no difference. Once Luis’s apprehended, we’ll dismantle the whole thing and apprehend anyone aiding him from the inside.”
“Gotcha!” We both startle at Rayna’s exclamation.
Her pointer finger hovers over the laptop screen above a bright-blue lorry we clocked earlier. She’s zoomed in on the European license plate.
“Fakes,” she mutters in a rush. “I’ve run them through the freight company’s online database.”
“How did you access that?” Warner frowns.
“Easy. Their cybersecurity is shit.”
“Damn, you’re good,” I whisper in awe.
“That’s what you pay me for.” She smiles to herself. “This right here is a Trojan horse.”
“Then that’s our target,” Warner decides.
He turns away from us to bark orders at Josh and Oscar—the youngest members of the Falcon Team—currently helping each other pull on Kevlar vests. The others, Archer and Kyle, are in another room with Hyland and Fox.
We’re camped across three rooms booked in two different hotels, housing our entire operation. After a rapid strategy meeting, each team drove here separately, setting up base a safe ten miles away from Luis’s suspected bolthole.
“Move out in five. We have our target.”
