'I had to ask someone for directions.' She nodded to the papers on his lap. 'That Ross's stuff?'
He nodded. 'Religious theory on Gnosticism, stuff about these Archons. They like to bend people to their wills and wage war. Creates unity.' He shook his head. 'Load of useless mystical propaganda created centuries ago.'
'And this group, for whatever reason, has bought into it.'
'Sure looks that way. And none of it is going to do us any good.'
He tossed the stack on the table, ate another peanut. 'I've got guys checking on customs logs to see who's tried to import any of the spiders Perkins put on his list. No hits so far, but we've only just started.'
'I didn't know you carried SWAT on board.'
'Former Hostage Rescue guys, on loan to us. Your stuff is in the back. They could use an extra body, and with your training I figured you wanted in.'
'What about transport?'
'You're going to love this.' He crumbled his bag into a ball and threw it into the trashcan bolted against the wall. 'It's a Huey, a Bell UH-1H, one of the new ones with a four-blade rotor system and dual GE engines. Powerful but quiet. And it's got just about every piece of equipment we need to stage a military coup or mount a search and rescue.'
'How did you score that?'
'Pure luck.'
'What about ground support?'
'SWAT, local police and ambulances,' he said. 'Jimmy Blackstone from the Connecticut field office is overseeing everything. Good guy, he knows what he's doing. He's going to go in quiet when he gets close to the transmission corridor. He's going to have to wait for us to scout out the terrain first.'
'We know anything about the terrain?'
'Woods. Lots and lots of woods. We're going to fly in and scope it out using FLIR thermal imaging. Never seen it in action before.'
'It's good, unless you're going into an area with fog or poor visibility, like tree cover.'
'FLIR won't pick that up?'
'Depends,' she said. 'It'll probably pick up warm spots as opposed to hot spots — the thermal image of the target won't be entirely clear.'
He broke out in soft laughter.
'What?'
'You are one goddamn remarkable woman, you know that?' He raised his hands, still laughing. 'I mean, Christ, how many women look the way you do and can kick the ass of every guy in this room and also know the specs on FLIR?'
She smiled back, and it eased some of the tension. 'Thank you.'
'You're welcome.' He stood and pointed across the table to a guy with a shaved head and a square jaw. Marine, she thought. The only thing he was missing was a cigar jammed into his mouth.
'That's Knowles,' Sergey said. 'He's heading up the operation, and he'll brief you.'
'You said 'we' a moment ago. Are you coming along?'
Sergey nodded. 'Jack too. He's already dressed.'
'Does Casey have SWAT training?'
'He has training.'
'That's not the same thing, Sergey, and you know it.'
'Of course I know it. Jack knows it too. But he wants to be on the ground if you find his wife and daughter.'
'You think that's wise, given what's on the video?'
Sergey knew what she meant. She saw it in his eyes.
'Jack's not stupid, Darby. He knows the score. If the bodies of his wife and daughter are in those woods, he wants to be the one to bring them home. And that's the least I can do, given what the man's put on the line for the Bureau.'
Darby nodded. 'Any news on their signals?' she asked.
'Nothing.' He shook his head, sighing. 'Sandwiches and stuff are on the table in the corner. Dig in now. You could be in for a long night.' The FBI helicopter was perfect. Two sliding aft doors had enough room to allow two to three people to rappel from either door. The cabin, specially lengthened, had an internal rescue hoist and passenger seats that, if detached, could accommodate the six stretchers stored in the back.
Right now there was plenty of space to spread out. Darby took a rear seat, the pleasant roar of the engine throbbing through her limbs. The men filed inside, along with Casey. She didn't look at him. She didn't want to see whatever might be on his face, didn't want that in her head right now.
Sergey had climbed in next to the pilot. The team leader, Knowles, slid both aft doors shut, then pounded twice on the wall behind the pilot.
The copter lifted off the ground. ETA was thirty minutes. Nobody spoke.
Having already checked and prepared her weapons, Darby closed her eyes and meditated, wanting her mind clear for whatever was waiting for them in the darkness.
75
Knowles's gruff voice barked across her headset: 'Mount up, people.'
Darby stood, crouching forward, and grabbed an O-ring on the ceiling for balance.
'Our FLIR picked up a collection of warm spots,' Knowles said. 'These images aren't clear because of our current distance from the site and because of the tree cover. We don't want to risk flying in for a closer look and alerting anyone who may be down there waiting for our arrival. These warm spots aren't moving.'
Nobody said it but everyone was thinking the same thing: bodies. Buried bodies. A possible mass grave site.
'Bravo One, McCormick and Farrell,' Knowles said. 'We're dropping you south of the target. Proceed ahead a thousand metres to what appears to be a clearing. Bravo Two, Clark and Reggie, we'll drop you north of the location. All of you are to treat this as though you're stepping into a potential hot zone. In other words, be aware of traps. Take nothing for granted. We'll be monitoring the area and radioing updates. Make sure you all do the same. Questions?'
There were none.
Knowles gripped the side door handle. Darby reached down and grabbed the thick rope with her gloved hands.
The aft door slid open. Cold wind rushed inside the cabin and the engine roared against her ears as she moved to the opened doorway, which looked out on a black sky peppered with bright stars. She affixed the rope to her harness, threw the dangling end out of the copter and stepped outside, on to the railing. Got her boots planted firmly and, gripping the rope, leaned backwards into the air, waiting for her partner, Farrell.
She gave her zip-line a final check. Looked good. She flipped the night-vision goggles down across her eyes and in the bright ambient green glow of light saw that Farrell had got himself into position. A bend of the knees and she pushed herself off the railing, falling through the awful dark, her stomach jumping with anticipation and worry.
She kept her grip steady as she whisked past leaves and tree branches. She saw the rushing ground, slowed her descent and hit it softly. She released the rope, and as it climbed back up and into the air she noticed she could barely hear the copter above the wind whistling through the trees and shaking the branches.
Her partner hit the ground a moment later, a little more roughly. He stumbled and she had to help him release his zip-line.
Standing behind a tree, she scanned the surrounding area, saw nothing but trees and leafy ground. They
