“How close can we get to the target without hitting the mines?” Rami asked, as he got in the driver’s seat. August climbed in the side of the van and Taschen took shotgun, still operating the drone from his tablet.
“I’d say a hundred yards or so,” Taschen said. “But I’ll tell you where to park.”
Rami turned over the ignition and steered the van in the direction of the coordinates on the GPS screen on the dash. The night was clear, and this far from city life the stars were bright, spread in a broad pattern across the sky. The moon was full, and its eerie white glow lit the darkness around them a little too much for Rami’s liking. He cut the headlights.
“What about guards or surveillance?” August asked from the bench seat in the back.
“There’re a bunch of heat sources around the perimeter of the compound, but I don’t see anyone watching over the camper.”
“Good.”
“Don’t be too relieved.” Rami flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror. “If they find out we’re here, they could be on us in minutes. We need to move in and out fast.”
August nodded. “Roger that.”
“Ditto,” Taschen said, from the front seat. “Park in half a mile.”
When Rami reached the spot next to the drone, he shifted into park. The camper was visible ahead. Not a single light shined from inside. “Quiet,” Rami said, lifting a finger. “Sound will carry from here, and I’m gonna bet in this heat, there’s a couple windows open.” He turned to Taschen. “What’s their position?”
“Unmoved.”
“I’ll hit the bedroom first,” August said, gun in hand. “You check the other person.” He went outside and Rami did the same, shutting the door softly.
Taschen also exited the vehicle with the tablet still in hand. He turned the screen to Rami and August. Three landmines showed where the metal detector picked up the small clusters. “If you head at a forty-five-degree angle you’ll be fine. There’s more landmines closer to the compound, but we’re not going that way.”
Rami grunted in agreement.
“Let me know if you need me or when you’re moving out,” Taschen said.
Rami gave one nod and met August as they moved away from the vehicle. Gravel crunched beneath their combat boots. He kept his AR-15 pointed at the ground, his finger near the trigger. His face was hot and damp. Sweat collected on his brow just below the headlamp, even though it was off.
They paused fifty yards from their target. The yellow-and-brown-striped camper sat in the middle of the desert. Odd, desolate-looking plants broke through the dusty terrain surrounding the unit. Rusted-out holes chewed through the sides of it, and two metal steps, also rusted to shit, hung below the door. The fact that people were inside made his skin crawl.
His throat tightened. He’d seen victims before. Severed limbs, bullet wounds, last prayers on bloody lips...
But this was different.
He’d never encountered human traffickers. If he did, he’d make sure he was the last person they saw.
“I got a smoke bomb,” August whispered. “I’m gonna hit the bedroom with that first.”
“Good call.” They needed to get close enough to the people inside to ensure they weren’t all victims. “Remember,” Rami continued, “we’re only getting Ivy out. If she’s not in there, then we’re done here.”
August’s silence did nothing to hide his hostility. Whether he agreed or not, though, that was the plan. “Got it?”
“Yeah, I fuckin’ got it.” August skirted toward the west side of the trailer, where the two heat sources had been spotted via the drone.
Rami picked up his pace, moving swiftly for the door.
August’s voice sounded through Rami’s earbud. “Ready?”
“Copy.”
Rami stormed up the steps and threw his weight into the door. The cheap material bounced open, and he stumbled into the living room. Rancid smells—moldy food and piss—hit his nose, and he swallowed back a retch. The air was as thick as a fucking hot box.
The sound of glass shattering reached his ears. Then came a hiss. The smoke bomb.
“What the—?” someone cried groggily from the bedroom.