"What kind of target?"
"The closest one. The kind that will hurt them."
Reyes wets his lips. "If you tell me what you want to accomplish, I can tell you which facility."
"We want to hurt them. We want it to cost them. And we want to know that there is one less place in the world where they can do to another woman what they did to Jen. And you will eventually give us all of the locations you know about.”
He thinks for a moment.
"There is an outpost near Mount Hood," he says. "It is called Site Theresa. They use it to move subjects between facilities, to store sample materials, to host researchers in transit. It would have current registry data. Transport logs. The active donor program records. If you want to cost the Syndicate something, that is where you go."
"How many people?"
"Twelve to fifteen on station. Two armed. The rest are scientists and clerical."
"Defenses?"
"Cameras. A monitored alarm. Two-person guard rotation. Sites like Theresa are not built for a fight. If you breach fast and clean, you have twenty minutes before reinforcement is onsite."
"And after the twenty minutes?"
"Then you have ground teams converging. Air support inside an hour. If you are not gone in fifteen, you are dead. Or recovered."
Thaw looks at Dean.
Dean is looking at the map. His finger is on a point south.
"I have been watching this site for a year," Dean says. Quiet. "I have not gone in because I did not have a reason. I now have a reason."
"How fast can you brief us?"
"Hour. Maybe less."
Thaw nods once.
Then he turns to the rest of the room.
All six of us are in one place at one time. Reyes is now in the cellar too. Harek has finished the perimeter and is standing at the kitchen window. Daron is leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. The room is charged in a way that does not happen accidentally.
"We have a target," Thaw says. "We can hit it. The question is whether we should."
Daron goes first. He pushes off the counter and walks one slow lap of the kitchen and stops at the window where Harek is, looking out.
"I want their blood." His voice is flat. "I want them to know we hit them. I want the Syndicate to know that the escape in March was not the worst thing that happened to them this year. I want it to be the second worst thing. And I want the gap between first and second to be wide. I am for the raid."
"Dean."
Dean's eyes lift from the map.
"I am for it. But I am for it specifically. We do not go in to kill. We go in to take. We take every file Theresa has on the registry, on the donor program, on the active candidates. We take their data and we leave them with empty drawers. That hurts them in a way bodies will not. Bodies are replaceable. Data is not. Killing the two armed staff is fine — getting the files is the win."
"Harek."
Harek does not turn from the window.
"Jen is bleeding," he says. Slow, careful, each word fought for. "Three hours ago. Body — changing. Wind — carrying. If we move fast — fine. If we move slow — danger. I want Jen — stable. Whole. Inside. Before we go."
He turns from the window. His green eyes find mine.
