Page 102 of Twilight Tactics

They’d huddled together, discussing the plan of action—and still working out the mechanics of said plan—when another text flashed.

We’re watching you. Go or people start dying including Eleanor. You have ten minutes.

Sully showed the message to Agent Martinez. “Fall back,” Martinez ordered into his radio. “All teams, retreat.”

Sully stared at the tree line ahead as he walked away, knowing Elena was somewhere beyond it. Every instinct screamed to push forward, but without a plan, he would sign her death warrant. His partner’s dead face flickered in his mind, and he did his best to shove it away. He hadn’t been able to save Rick. He had to save the woman he’d come to care about in such a short time.

“We need to regroup,” Martinez said.

The team backed away, moving in practiced formation until they reached a small clearing well out of sight of the compound. Donovan reported that the remaining Whitestone deputies and several FBI agents were still at the ranch. He’d asked neighboring law enforcement agencies to send protection there as well. Knowing that, Sully could concentrate on everything else.

Martinez gathered everyone in a tight circle. “All right, this is a hostage situation. We need to proceed with extreme caution.”

Agent Ramirez, a tactical specialist, pointed toward the compound. “We have cause to use force. We go in hard and fast, extract the hostage.”

“No.” Sully shook his head. “You don’t know these people.Before Elena educated me, I would have thought the same thing. Yes, they hate law enforcement, but more than that, they’re willing to die for their cause. If they think they’re being invaded, there’s no telling what defensive measures they’ll take. Remember, they like bombs. Knowing that, we need to think out of the box. This isn’t a textbook hostage situation.”

“Sullivan’s right,” Sheriff Donovan said. “I’ve dealt with these people for years. They’re paranoid and well-armed. If we storm in, they’ll see it coming. Assuming they don’t blow us up at the perimeter. Either way, they’ll kill her—and who knows who else—before we reach her. We’ll have another Waco situation, and no one needs that.”

Sully paced the small clearing. “And there are innocents in there. Children. Families. We can’t risk a firefight.”

“So what’s your suggestion then?”

“We need intel.” Sully stopped pacing. “We need to know the layout, where they might be holding her, guard positions, everything.”

Agent Sinclair, a young woman with a tech background, stepped forward. “I have a surveillance drone in my vehicle. Small, nearly silent. Infrared capabilities.”

Martinez nodded. “Get it. We need eyes inside that compound before we make any moves.”

While Sinclair jogged back to retrieve the drone, Sully pulled out his phone and tried Elena’s number again. Straight to voicemail. He studied the aerial map they had showing only the general outline of the property.

“Elena mentioned a compound jail,” he said. “A place where they kept people who committed a crime or some other infraction against the community. That’s likely where they’re holding her.”

“Or they could be using her as bait in an ambush,” Ramirez said.

“Either way, we need that aerial view,” Martinez said.

Sinclair returned with a small case. She opened it to reveal a compact drone with four rotors. “This baby can fly for forty minutes on a charge,” she said as she assembled it. “Thermal imaging, night vision, and it transmits directly to this tablet. Almost completely silent above fifty feet.”

“Launch it from here,” Martinez instructed. “Keep it high until you’re over the compound, then drop down for detail.”

Sinclair nodded, finished the preflight check, and launched the drone. The aircraft rose silently into the sky, soon disappearing from view.

“Heading east,” Sinclair narrated, eyes fixed on the tablet. “Approaching the compound perimeter now.”

The group gathered around, watching the screen as grainy night vision footage showed the compound coming into view. The drone descended to capture more detail.

“There.” Sinclair pointed. “Main house, barracks-style buildings, what looks like a mess hall, gardens, livestock pens.”

Sully studied the layout, searching for anything that might indicate where Elena was being held. “Can you get thermal?”

Sinclair switched to infrared mode. The screen bloomed with colored heat signatures—dozens of them spread throughout the buildings.

“Heavy concentration in that central building,” Martinez noted. “Probably their communal area.”

“What’s that smaller structure to the north?” Sully pointed to an isolated building showing two heat signatures reclining inside and one standing on the outside.

“Looks like a jail to me. Two people in cells and one guard.”