We stowed extra magazines for each just in case, then donned and powered on our earpiece radios and night optics. Fully saddled up and ready to roll, we shut the back door. I gave Ange a hug through the passenger-side window and assured her that we’d be careful.
“Remember,” Scott said. “Time is on our side.” He glanced at the dashboard clock and added, “It’s already after two. These guys should be getting tired and their initial adrenaline wearing off. Get into position, strike once we’re all set. Proper timing is going to be key here. No need to rush this.”
Jason and I agreed, then crept into the dark forest. Scott put the Range Rover into gear and motored him and Ange onward, continuing west. We traversed through the difficult terrain, observing everything in shades of green from the night vision. We climbed over fallen trees, trudged along muddy bogs, and forced our way through thick shrubs, all the while keeping our eyes peeled for Florida’s most dangerous indigenous residents.
It wasn’t long before we could see light bleeding through breaks in the thick tree coverage. Then the forest opened up, and we reached the chain-link fence surrounding the abandoned farm.
Moving slowly and sticking to the shadows, we crept up to the fence, scaled it, and landed softly on the other side. The fact that there were supposedly over a thousand alligators running wild in the farm didn’t escape our minds. We were in their kingdom, and as we moved in toward the center of the compound, we carefully avoided the notoriously temperamental reptiles that seemed to be lurking in every direction.
We came to a pond roughly the size of a football field. It had an island in the middle that was littered with gators. Around the edges, I counted over a dozen more.
To our satisfaction, we stumbled upon the remnants of an old concrete path that was slightly raised but flanked by overgrown bushes to conceal our approach.
Spotting movement, we dropped behind the cover of an old wooden railing and watched as one of Lynch’s men walked around the back side of the main structure. Standing between us and the buildings was a deep concrete pit that extended into the darkness to our left. To the right of it was a big, fully enclosed cage that was rusted and broken in places, vines crawling all over it.
I tapped the earpiece in my right ear. “We have visual of the compound,” I said.
“Roger that,” Scott replied. “Fox and I are in position,” he added, referring to my wife by her maiden name. “You spot any skins?”
“Just one. Doing rounds on the back side of the main building. Looks bored and tired.”
“Good. You boys sit tight and keep a sharp eye. I’m taking the drone airborne now.”
“Copy that.”
I took my hand off the earpiece. Jason and I stayed still, scanning back and forth over the compound and keeping a sharp eye out for movement.
Minutes after ending the conversation with Scott, Jason tapped me on the shoulder and pointed toward the northwestern sky. It was still veiled in clouds, but against the dark backdrop, I just managed to spot movement. Scott piloted the drone at approximately a thousand feet. We could barely see it even with the night vision and couldn’t hear it at all as it flew toward the compound. It performed a quick lap around the structures, parking lot, and driveway, then descended and settled behind a cluster of trees just beside the main building.
While glancing intermittently at the drone, we spotted a second guy as he walked into view from what looked like a garage to our left. He met up with the other guy and they chatted it up for a few minutes.
“There’s three more out front,” Scott said through the tiny radio speaker. “One in the lot and two barricaded behind a stack of wooden crates and barrels in the driveway.”
That accounted for five of them, which meant that the rest were either sleeping, taking cover inside, or looming somewhere else around the compound.
Jason and I examined the scene another minute before deciding on a course of action. We moved right, keeping low and in the darkness, then used the big cage as cover to get within fifty yards of the two men. We arrived just in time to catch the end of their little chat. A phone call to the bigger guy caused them to disperse, one heading right, the other left.
They both had black MP5 submachine guns in their hands. They wore tank tops and dirty pants. They looked tired, but also pissed off. Ready to do something reckless.
I thought over the situation and came up with a plan.
“Scott,” I said into my radio. “Can you take out the guy in the lot without anyone seeing?”
There was a short pause.
“Wait one,” he replied. “I’ll hover over and see his position.”
We watched as the drone flew stealthily up into the dark air, then across to the other side of the compound. Thirty seconds later, Scott replied.
“Affirmative. On your mark.”
I gazed back at the two guys. “All right, Jase,” I said, “time to put an end to this party.”
“What’s the play? Spread out and take these two down at the same time?”
“You read my mind. I got left.”
Before he could protest, I crawled out of our spot. The guy on the left was farther away and had less cover between us. I knew he’d want the harder guy, so I beat him to it. Keeping
