“Great,” Max muttered.
“All of the rooms are furnished?” Rafe asked.
“I think so.” Henri pointed to a side room. “This is the place where a servant prepares food.”
Max nodded. His gaze narrowed as he thought about communications at Tudor’s estate. Except for the swamp dwellers, most people on Danalon carried comms units. Max and Rafe didn’t use them when they were on a job because every unit had a tracker which would give away their whereabouts.
He looked at Henri. “Where is his main comms center?”
The man pointed to one of the rooms.
“And does he wear a personal unit?”
The man looked blank. “Does he talk into a device that lets him communicate with others on the estate—like his guards?”
“Yes.”
Max and Rafe exchanged glances. “If he knew he was under attack and sent a distress call, that would be a problem,” Max said.
“Right. We wouldn’t be dealing with just the house guards. We’d be fighting off the authorities from Port City.”
“We’ll have to get in there before anybody realizes what’s happening and get his communicator away from him,” Max muttered. “Perhaps our best bet is to take out a couple of the guards and change into their uniforms. That way, Tudor won’t know he’s under attack.”
Still thinking about logistics, he asked, “Does the house have a basement?”
Henri laughed. “We were talking about the ease of taking the house down into the bayou. A basement around here would fill with water.”
“Duh.”
Max racked his brain for other questions to ask. He’d been in a lot of impromptu skirmishes, but he’d never planned a military assault.
Before he could think of anything, Amber asked, “Do you see much traffic in and out of his compound?” she asked the group.
Several of the men shot her a disapproving look. But others shook their heads in answer to her question. “He comes to the bayou, but we see few outlanders,” one of them answered.
“Good,” she murmured.
Max turned to Gatroux. “The guards have standard weapons. Are you going against them with knives and spears?”
The head man kept his gaze steady. “We have a few beamers. But we rely on our knowledge of the bayou.”
“Like how?”
“You will find out—as you found out we could track you.”
Max nodded, wanting more information but he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t get it.
“When do you want to attack?” the head man asked.
“When do you think is best?” Max countered.
Gatroux looked thoughtful. “Two in the morning.”
Max blinked. That was the best time for a surprise raid. Gatroux must be a better tactician than they had imagined.
“Rafe and I will want our weapons,” he said.
“Some of my men will go to the ship with you.”
Max nodded, then turned to Amber. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
“No,” Gatroux said. “You will not see her until the time of the raid.”