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“Any movement?”

“One truck changed positions between images.”

“Which one?”

Taylor enlarges the photograph.

A white refrigerated truck now sits beside the loading dock.

Its rear doors face the building.

“He’s loading it,” Trent says.

“How long until we land?” I ask the pilot.

“Twenty-two minutes.”

“Make it fifteen.”

He looks back at me.

“Not in these winds.”

“You can.”

The pilot faces forward.

The helicopter accelerates.

Hayley sits beside Sage near the rear.

Both wear headsets.

Both have vests secured beneath their coats.

Neither looks afraid.

I know better.

Sage studies the warehouse images.

“Can you make the loading dock bigger?”

Taylor enlarges it.

She points toward a dark shape near the western wall.

“What is that?”

“Drainage culvert,” Taylor answers.

“No. Beside it.”

He adjusts the image.

A narrow metal door appears.

Part of it is hidden behind weeds.