Novak cut in, precise. “They’re complacent. Standard-issue weaponry. Carbines, sidearms. Nothing exotic.”
Jamie sighed. “Kids with collars that go boom,” he flicked his lighter. “I don’t like that.”
“And bored guards,” Killian added. “A perfect storm.”
“And the religious aspect?” Sonya asked, though it was a question for Lyric since we didn’t have eyes inside the compound.
Lyric tapped a key, and a new panel filled the center screen—bank records, donor lists, images of sermons, and outreachflyers. “The religious layer is a cover,” he said, voice steady. “Outreach, redemption language, community housing—it’s all front-facing. Behind it, the guy running it is Michael, and he’s moving money.”
Killian leaned forward. “Define ‘moving’.”
“Donations,” Lyric said, and the air quotes were audible. Irregular amounts, routed through shell charities, then consolidated into two primary accounts. Timing matches intake spikes at the compound.”
“Payments,” Sonya said.
Lyric nodded. “For trafficked minors and adults alike. I can’t prove every transaction yet, but the pattern’s consistent—newdonation, new arrival within forty-eight to seventy-two hours.”
Levi swore. “So, the church is the storefront.”
“Exactly,” Lyric said. “Public face is a sanctuary. Private operation is procurement and conditioning.”
Doc’s jaw tightened. “You got names?”
“Working on it,” Lyric replied. “I’ve got partial IDs tied to transport and a couple of handlers, but they’re careful. Rotating vehicles, burner comms. This Father Michael asshole is the constant.”
Killian: “Pressure points?”
“Financial,” Lyric said. “If we pull the thread on the accounts, we expose the network—but we also spook them. They’ll tighten the perimeter, maybe move the assets.”
I cut in. “Then we don’t tip them.”
“Agreed,” Killian said. “We build quietly. No noise. Get people to you as backup.”
Lyric glanced at me. “Caleb, I’ll flag transactions in real time. If you see movement at the compound that lines up, we’ll have a predictive window.”
“Got it,” I said.
Jamie flicked his lighter shut. “Priest runs a pipeline. That’s nothing new and getting very fucking predictable. I’ll work on a burn that will take time for him.”
Killian patted his knee. “Good call, babe.” Then he exhaled. “Okay. We do this right. No hero moves until we have a team in place. No rushing a perimeter we don’t understand.” He stared directly at me. “You sit tight. Build the picture.”
“We can move sooner if we?—”
“No,” Killian cut in. “Not on partial intel.”
Doc nodded. “I’ll start lining up support. Medical, extraction, fallback sites.”
Levi added, “I’ll pull local contacts. Quiet.”
Sonya: “I’ll map the relay possibilities. We’ll find your spoof window.”
Lyric’s voice softened a fraction. “Caleb, keep feeding me what you see. Real time if you can.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Got it.”
Killian checked his watch. “Cave reconvenes in the morning with updates. Stay dark. Stay smart.”
Jamie tipped his chair again, earning a glance from Killian, and stilled.
