“Roger that.” The sound of computer keys ticked over her earpiece.
As she waited for Ian to give her the go-ahead, she eased open one of the multiple glass doors surrounding her bedroom with a barely audible shhhh of the casters rolling on metal slides. Floor-to-ceiling drapes hung on tracks all along the exterior walls, but she kept them open. Not only did she love looking out at the pool and the horizon in the distance while she slipped off to sleep, but she also liked knowing what was happening beyond her walls.
Her crisply air-conditioned room gave way to the warm, moist night. The gentle chirp of crickets filled the air, along with a chorus of creatures she could only begin to imagine.
“Three, two, one,” Ian said. “Cameras fifteen and eighteen just switched off. You have sixty seconds.”
On bare feet, Everly hurried along the cement path beside the house to cross the distance before the cameras imaging that side of the house cycled back for another sweep. Nearby howler monkeys balked at her appearance, and their throaty protest scraped the silence. Everly winced at the noise, hoping it wouldn’t prompt attention. The short walk to the garage felt like it took forever even though only twenty seconds passed.
She stepped into the cutout of the exterior, housing an air-conditioning unit, and ducked behind the device. “Secure.”
“Those things sound like dogs with strep throat,” Ian said.
That hit Everly funny, and she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to keep the laughter in.
“Another ten seconds…” Ian said. “Three, two, one.”
Everly was on top of the unit with one hop. But the monkeys really didn’t like that move. A few nearby voiced their indignance.
“This isn’t something I’d planned on dealing with,” she admitted. “Been working in civilization too long.”
“You can’t call Syria civilization,” Ian said. “Hurry up.”
Hix had told her the garage was strictly off-limits, which also meant it was heavily secured. She couldn’t chance tripping an alarm, so she stood on tiptoe to see over the edge of the sill. Using the flashlight on her phone, she scanned the interior. “Five vehicles.”
“Five? How did he fit five in a two-car garage?”
“Carefully?” she quipped before identifying the vehicles sandwiched into the space. “Two small pickups, one full-size truck, a Jeep, and a panel van.”
“Panel what? A monkey cut you off.”
“Van,” she repeated. She’d have to rethink sneaking around at night.
“He’s only got one vehicle licensed to him,” Ian said. “The Jeep. You’ve got eight seconds.”
Everly hopped to the ground and dropped behind the air conditioner as the cameras made another sweep. Her disappearance calmed the monkeys for a blessed moment. When Ian signaled all clear, she moved slowly, climbing onto the air conditioner’s housing instead of jumping. The monkeys still protested, but not as intensely.
“Panel van, BBG-748. Full-ize truck, GHM-139.” She finished reading off all the license plate numbers just in time to hide again. “Jesus Christ, I’m beginning to think the damn monkeys are a better alarm than the infrared.”
When the cameras cleared her area, Everly gritted her teeth and moved at a painfully slow crawl onto the metal housing to get one more look at the weaponry she’d spotted hanging on the walls.
“Maybe a dime of subguns,” she told Ian. “Half a dozen M4s, a dozen handguns. Kevlar vests, helmets, ammunition, scopes, night vision…”
She listed the equipment lining the walls until she had to jump into the shadows again, teeth gritted against the monkeys’ continued protest.
“Does it look like the weapons cache of a gunrunner?” Ian asked, his tone already casting doubt on the idea.
“Looks like a training supply storage unit.” She rested behind the metal block. “I’m going to let the monkeys calm down before I move again.”
“Um…no,” Ian said. “You’re not. One of the guys in the bunkhouse just got out of bed.”
“Shit.” She dropped her head back against the house. “Maybe he’s taking a leak.”
“Only if he’s leaking out a window.”
Everly’s heart rate spiked. Her mind pulled up the excuses she’d created for being out here if she couldn’t evade detection.
“Head dog is stirring too,” Ian said. “Maybe the guy in the bunkhouse made a phone call. I’d brave the monkeys and get in the house, then hold firm to plausible deniability.”