Page 43 of Magnum, Volume 1

He showed us the fight property first, low passes that gave us the whole layout better than any satellite image. We saw the parking area, the pathways, the main structure, and every outbuilding. Also, the guest cottages and cabins. He flew the fenceline and landed on a camera so we could get the exact model. He lit in a tree near where the guards took smoke breaks, but none of them said anything interesting, which was telling. These people expected to be listened in on when outside.

“I tried facial rec on the tall guy,” Skippy said. “From the mall while in a heavy disguise, but it triggered an alarm again. They’re serious about security.”

On the video, he flew near a building near the edge of the property, and Squatch said, “That’s not on any of the property records.”

“Because it’s not permitted,” Skippy said. “Went up sometime in the last two years, based on satellite images. No permit filing, no inspection record, nothing on the tax assessments showing an improvement.”

We all watched him fly around it, but there were no clues about what it might be used for.

“What did you get on guard rotation?” Mad Dog asked.

Skippy opened a different file — hours of footage compressed into a time-lapse, guards moving along predictable paths at predictable intervals. “Four visible during the day, but the schedule isn’t fixed and seems random, which is a problem. Rotation looks like three shifts, eight hours each, which means probably twelve total plus some extras, but this was a quiet week. No fighters on-site unless they’re locked inside, so I’m guessing security’s a helluva lot lighter than it’ll be during an actual weekend.”

“Which means we need eyes on it during a fight weekend,” I said. “Guard count, guest count, the works.”

Storm had been quiet, watching the screen with eyes that seemed to catch everything. “There’s no way to know how the main building is configured. We’re pretty sure there’s a basement level, and we can see two stories aboveground. Getting the outside layout is important, but we really need to get into the main building.”

“That isn’t likely to happen until we’re on-site and inside,” I said. “It’s a risk, no doubt about it, but with every window blacked out…” I sighed. We’d figure it out, but this was the riskiest part — going in blind.

“Ember is going to get some toys from work,” Skippy said. “Thermal imaging that can see through walls. We figured out where we can set up, about a half-mile away on a hill. We won’t get hi-res detail at that distance, but we’ll have an idea of where there are and are not people throughout the weekend.”

Mad Dog nodded slowly, working through it. “Skippy and Ember go back for the next fight weekend. Full footage — who comes, who goes, what time things start, how many vehicles, how many guests. We need the shape of it from the start to the end before we plan the raid.”

“Any chance your bird drone can follow any vehicle large enough to carry the fighters?” Storm asked. “Might be easier to get them between fights, if we can figure out where they’re taken after the fight weekend.”

That would work if they stayed on backroads, but ravens only fly around twenty-five miles an hour. They can sprint faster for a few seconds, but not for long. The raven wouldn’t be able to, and an eagle would be noticed.

“It’s a risk,” Skippy said. “Birds flying around randomly aren’t noticed, but one following a bus?” He shrugged. “I’ve considered sneaking onto the property and putting a tracker on it, but if they find it, they might kill all the fighters and lay low a while.”

“Right,” she said. “I’ll brainstorm other ideas, and we’ll see if anything works. If I knew the capability of your bird-drone, it might be easier for me to come up with something.”

Rather than answer, Skippy changed the subject. “Let’s move to the footage from governor’s mansion. When I go back, I want to spend some evenings with the drone on the balcony outside the governor’s bedroom. There’s a planter I can have it light in, and it’ll have a nice view through the French doors. It picked up the maids talking inside, which means we’ll be able to hear the governor and her husband talking. Might be interesting to see what they say in the days leading up to the fight.”

“You sure you can do it without drawing attention?” Mad Dog asked.

“Sure enough,” Skippy said.

We watched the video of him flying all around the mansion, and then another time-lapse to see the guard rotation, which was once again seemingly random, but with a lot more people.

Storm made several pages of notes in her notebook, and did some damned decent brainstorming. We all discussed possible logistics, as well as potential ingresses and egresses. Storm had Skippy take pictures of her notes, so he’d be sure to get the footage she felt we needed, and Skippy didn’t argue.

Her intelligence and competence reminded me I’d wanted to see how well she can shoot, so when they left, I got her gun from my safe, grabbed an ammo can of nine-millimeter practice rounds, and we walked to my side yard and into the woods.

A while back, I’d brought one of the MC’s Bobcats to the property and dug a graduated trench, ten feet deep and six feet wide, with an angle leading into it. I’d lined the two sides with concrete cinderblocks and left the end as raw dirt. No danger of stray bullets this way.

I put two targets on the end, counted back fifteen feet, and shot the center of mine, emptying my mag.

“Your turn.”

She emptied her mag, and every shot except two hit the center. Her misses were only about an inch off, which is damned good.

“Impressive,” I said, and took five steps back.

She was an excellent shot at that distance, too, so I had her do fast draws facing it, and then I moved outside the trench, looking down from the side, and had her fast draw and turn to shoot when the target was to her right, her left, and behind her.

Thirty minutes and several hundred dollars’ worth of spent ammo later, I was satisfied with her skills. We talked about friendly fire and how to avoid it, and then I asked, “Where do you want to keep your weapon?”

“Since I sleep with you, a holster on my side of the bed makes the most sense. It’s where we’re most likely to be if someone finds me and tries to abscond with me. If they want to kill me, they can shoot me from across the lake when I’m in the kitchen. Ember isn’t the only one with cameras that can see through walls.”