Page 31 of Operation: Reckless Angel

“We have to assume the equipment you planted at that location is compromised,” Shepherd said. “If they saw you, they saw what you were doing.”

Roth glanced at the feed on the monitor from those particular cameras. They were still online.

“I can widen the angle on the satellite to monitor that area too,” Smith said.

“Do it,” Shepherd said. “And watch the feed from that location as well to confirm or deny the functionality of the surveillance equipment.”

“Yes, sir,” Smith acknowledged.

“SecDef expects regular reports beginning on Monday. Provide me updates twice daily, starting tomorrow, or if there is anything that is notable, immediately,” Shepherd said.

The team acknowledged him, and the video call was terminated. Garcia immediately dialed Cooper on his phone. He put it on speaker. “What do you make of that?”

“Someone pissed in his cornflakes,” Doc chimed in.

“My guess is he knows this Op stinks,” Garcia said.

“Nowhere in our mission prep was the mention of military trained private security, but it makes sense a man like Wells would have his own security force,” Cooper said. “We fucked up. We should have anticipated it.”

“The mission prep intel came from SecDef. With the accelerated start of this mission, the Digital Team had no time to provide in-house prep,” Garcia said defensively. “So that begs the question, why did Shepherd rush it?”

“As you said, he knows something about this stinks,” Cooper said. “We need to be extra vigilant. I don’t want any more surprises.”

They settled in for the night. Garcia and Smith would alternate shifts monitoring the feeds. From their hilltop perch, Cooper and Doc surveilled the area. They had a camera that sported a super telephoto lens, which they concealed under a ghillie suit just in case Wells’ private security paid them a visit. If they were any good, they already knew the two of them had set up camp.

Roth snuggled into his sleeping bag, enjoying the sound of the wind blowing through the trees and bushes, and the sensation of the fresh air across his face. His gaze took in the millions of stars in the inky sky above. But once again, before he drifted off, Briana Woods invaded his thoughts. He wondered if she liked to camp. He bet she did. She didn’t strike him as a girly-girl. He just couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d never had a woman get to him like she had.

The six men alternated surveillance the next day. Nothing exciting happened. Roth enjoyed the openness of the terrain, the crisp, clean air, and the quiet. He had a lot of time to think about Briana Woods.

“Hey, wake up,” Jackson said, tapping Roth’s shoulder.

He opened his eyes to find it was night-time. Jackson squatted beside him. “What’s up?”

“A chopper just landed at Wells’ place.”

Roth quickly shed his sleeping bag and followed Jackson into the van where Garcia sat. It was just after zero four hundred. “I can’t zoom in on any of the feeds close enough to get the tail number. And Cooper doesn’t have a clear view from his twenty. I need you two to take the ATVs and see how close you can get to get a looksee,” Garcia said. “And the chopper’s LZ is loaded with Wells’ private security. You can expect to encounter them.”

Roth shot a grin at Jackson. “Come on, let’s go scope out some more coyote tracks.”

Jackson nodded. He pointed out a small rise on the topographical map that looked to be in the proper location and elevation to get a look at the helicopter. “We’ll make our first attempt from here. If we can’t get a good look, we’ll have to go onto his property here.” He slid his finger over to the next hill, which was clearly on John Wells’ property. “There’ll be no claiming we didn’t know it was private property. We’ll have to go over his fence to gain access.”

“I’m okay with that,” Garcia said. “Just don’t hurt any of his boys. They might get a bit testy that you’re making an uninvited appearance during their other guest’s visit.”

“Let’s hope they don’t shoot first and ask questions later,” Roth said.

“I’m sure they’ll want at least one of us alive, you know, to question,” Jackson said with a chuckle.

“Stay on comms,” Garcia said.

The two men rode over the rough terrain after exiting the vacant road to the top of the little rise Jackson had selected to try to view the helicopter. Both men raised their night vision binoculars and focused on the jet-black helicopter sitting on the pad off to the left of John Wells’ ranch estate home.

“I’ll be damned,” Roth muttered. “His guest flew in on a Sikorsky VH-3D Sea King. It’s not Marine One, but it’s a close relative. It’s screaming government or military ride.”

“You got a tail number?” Garcia asked through comms.

“I can’t see it from this angle,” Roth answered.

“Me either,” Jackson said.

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