“This is a reconnaissance-only mission,” said Rich. “But we’re going to push the envelope. I want to get as deep into that camp as possible before turning back. We’ll be using rifle-mounted, high-definition, zoomable video cameras to record the operation. They’ll be on from start to finish. Anything you point your rifle at will be recorded for further analysis.”
“I assume they’re night vision capable?” said Devin.
“It’s a commercial hunting camera, which works differently than standard military night vision. The advantage of this system is that the camera adjusts for light conditions. A straight-up night vision rig would flare out if you entered a lighted room or caught a flashlight.”
“How far do you intend to push the envelope?” asked Devin.
“Depends on what we find, and the level of activity,” said Rich. “If possible, I’d like to take a look inside the larger structures, if any exist. Just the presence of the camp, linked to the evidence your mother collected, should be enough to generate some high-level interest. If we can snap pictures of Joseph Stalin plastered all over the walls in some kind of gathering hall, even better. Pictures of camp attendees that can be linked to the profiles Helen generated, or other key people in key technology, industry, or infrastructure positions? Priceless.”
“Rules of engagement?” asked Devin.
“We’ll go over all of that during the final mission briefing,” said Rich. “Anyone up for a swim?”
“After you answer the question,” said Devin. “Bottom line ROE.”
“This is not an offensive operation. We only fire in self-defense. So, if someone fires at us, we return fire. If someone points a weapon at us, we’ll fire first,” said Rich. “If we’re discovered, and have to beat a hasty retreat, we will consider anyone standing between the team and our boats as an immediate lethal threat. Does that sound about right?”
Marnie nodded. “Sounds uncomplicated—which is more important.”
“Exactly,” said Rich. “Things tend to get complicated enough on these missions without our help. We strive to simplify where we can.”
“Good,” said Devin. “Because something tells me tonight is going to be anything but straightforward.”
PART V
CHAPTER 42
Timothy Graves slowly increased the Sea Ray 185’s speed from fifteen miles per hour to forty, rapidly pulling away from the two pontoon boats. They’d just passed Trucker Hollow Marina to the left, which was marked by a dozen or more bright security lights, marking the start of a straight, three-and-a-half-mile northwest stretch of lake. Red and green running lights spanned the lake ahead, marking boats at varying distances. Most of them were just specks in the darkness, a good mile or two away. His only job right now was to keep them on a steady course for the drone launch—while avoiding any kind of collision that could disable the boat.
He flipped his night vision goggles down over his face and took in the lake through new eyes. The distant lights burned bright white now, momentarily looking closer until the image adjusted. Graves had initially planned to make the run without night vision, but several floating tree stumps had convinced him otherwise. The Sea Ray wasn’t exactly a Coast Guard cutter. Hitting one of those trunks at maximum speed would likely rip through the hull and put the boat at the bottom of the lake.
Gupta tapped his shoulder twice, their prearranged signal that he was moments from pressing the button to autonomously launch the drone. Neither of them had attempted a running takeoff before, so they had no idea what to expect when he hit the button. In theory, the propeller blade would start spinning, the sensors would start sensing, and the eighteen-pound drone would instantly reach for the sky—as it did when it achieved takeoff speed during a normal launch. The trick would be letting go at the right time.
They’d conducted a dry run earlier today, the lift generated by a forty-miles-per-hour relative wind making the drone hard to hold on to. He would have preferred executing a full practice launch, but the attention that would have generated was guaranteed to put them on YouTube. Then they’d have to retrieve it. This would be a one-and-done deal. Either it worked or it didn’t. Three quick taps landed on his shoulder. The moment of truth. A high-pitched buzz competed with the engine and bow wash.
“Holy shit! Woo-hoo!” yelled Gupta. “It worked!”
He glanced over his shoulder to find Gupta staring almost straight up into the sky, the drone no longer in his raised hands. Graves slowed the boat and searched the sky, catching a glimpse of the drone’s sleek, nonreflective shape peeling away to the west. When he’d brought the boat back down to a more manageable cruising speed, he raised the night vision goggles.