“Right away,” Rafie replied, pushing back from the table.
Rafie found Colt outside with Emil helping cinch the tie-downs on the trailer. Metusack, Marlon, and Ventura were in an adjacent outbuilding checking the ordinance and personal gear needed on the mission; Farley was in back with the hostages; Mills was doing nothing but fretting. Everyone’s mood was somber. Rafie made contact with each man and told him to convene in the main house. The staging of the Fort Knox job was underway.
“Right oh, let’s walk it through one last time, mates,” Kilmer started when the men had assembled. “We leave at 23:00. Colt’ll be the first through the main gate,” he reiterated, and proceeded to call out each man’s position and duty.
He went through the entire foray, step by step, just as he’d done for the Livermore job and Quantum before that. When he completed a briefing, there was never a doubt about the timing of events or each man’s duty. Niggling uncertainties and doubts were addressed, and it was his style to gain consensus that the plan before them was the best available. From the looks on everyone’s faces, however, he could tell the men were dubious about their chances for success. His encouragement was needed more than ever.
“How do we know the mission hasn’t been compromised?” Ventura asked, voicing everyone’s concern. “The kid’s parents showing up makes me believe they’ve shared the location with someone. We could be walking into an ambush.”
“Conrad’s story makes sense,” Kilmer studiously replied. “If the cops knew anythin’, they’d already be here; no way they’d let ‘em show up alone.”
“What about the hostages?” Emil asked. “When I agreed to help Alastair, hostages weren’t a consideration. They know where they’re being held; my facility’s been identified. What’s the plan for that?”
“Unfortunately…there’s only one possibility,” Kilmer replied, steely-eyed. “No one planned to be in this pickle, but to be dead cert there’s no trail back to ya…the hostages are history.”
No one made a sound. The conviction in Kilmer’s voice was unmistakable. The hostages’ fate was inevitable. There was no other solution.
“So that’s Farley’s only purpose here, then?” Sully Metusack asked.
Sully, along with the rest of the team, knew of Farley’s reputation; he was a cold-blooded and remorseless killer, completely devoid of conscience. When he surfaced, everyone knew his presence didn’t bode well for the hostages. Sully remembered a time when Farley had adroitly extracted vital information from a recalcitrant hostage with only a pair of pliers. The man involved was especially reticent, but pliers applied to his fingertips finally produced enough pain to break his resistance. It was horrible to watch, and Sully wondered how anyone could remain so detached from the torturous screams. But as Kilmer had stated, none of them planned to take hostages when they signed on to the job. They hadn’t planned on Conrad’s hidden equations, or his stubbornness in cooperating with their operational demands.
Sully was especially regretful about the fate of the women; he’d grown fond of Dr. Coscarelli. But he had to admit that the hostages were an unacceptable liability.
“Afraid so,” Kilmer replied. “Farley’ll git the order as soon as Conrad does his thing. Their fate is sealed. Ya’ll never know they were here, Emil.”
Emil was standing apart from the group, in obvious discomfort. He wrung his hands and paced like a caged animal. “I don’t want to know any more about it,” he said. “Just promise me you’ll dispose of any evidence that my wife and children might find. This whole business is unseemly. Alastair and I will have words, Richard.”
“I’m dead cert ya will. Any more questions?” Kilmer asked. “If not…git some rest. We hit the base at midnight,” he repeated.
The men shuffled away from the meeting, taking up individual conversations as they went. The mood of the men had never been lower going into an operation. Everyone was filled with doubt, but they each realized it was too late to withdraw. The time had drawn nigh, the plan developed, and the steps to proceed put in motion. Time would tell if Holloway’s master plan would prevail.
An incredible disquiet embraced each of Kilmer’s team and most would vote to cancel the mission if it were possible. More than one reflected that the setting sun at Wildcat Farm could be the last they would ever see. It was now or never.
SIXTY-TWO
David Morris drove from Louisville, following the GPS directions to Wildcat Catfish Farm. Agent Henry rode shotgun, with Palmer and Angelina in the back of the Ford Explorer. The highway signs to the catfish facility were numerous and in no time they closed in on the location. They all agreed this would be nothing more than a brief reconnaissance of the farm; what they found would determine how they would rescue the hostages.
As he drove, Morris spotted a Bass Pro Shop with easy access off the highway. The men quickly agreed Bass would be a suitable place to buy binoculars, camo gear, rifles, and enough ammo to carry out their mission. Each of the lawmen carried their individual sidearms, which airline security allowed with proper identification, but to prepare for an assault against a heavily guarded outpost would require more firepower than they had in their possession. Agent Henry was certain the Bass Pro Shop would carry everything they could possibly need.
As they approached the Wildcat Farm, the silo loomed high above the farm once again signaled their destination. The logo on the silo was unmistakable. The hostages were being held somewhere among the many buildings clustered near the center of this facility.
Observing the farm for the first time, the men identified several things that looked out of place. The first was a Peterbilt tractor-trailer transporting a large object completely covered by a green tarp. The second was a private tour bus with all of its windows tinted except for the windshield. These two vehicles seemed to herald that something out of the ordinary was taking place at Wildcat Farm.
Morris made a slow pass by the facility and Henry took as many digital pictures as he could snap in the thirty seconds it took to drive past the farm. Once they were completely out of sight of the buildings, Morris pulled to the side of the road. The time was almost 4:00 p.m. It seemed obvious they had found where the hostages were being held, but the only way to confirm this hunch was to wait for darkness. They decided to head back to the Bass Pro Shop to get supplies and draw a plan for how to rescue the hostages.
Agent Henry was looking at the digital pictures on his camera. He handed it back to Palmer, who was now on the side with an unobstructed view of the operation. “I’ve seen enough,” he said. “Here… take a few more as we drive by. Looks like a man with a Remington. 308 could cover the back side of the residence without any trouble.”
“We’ll need to know the exact position of the hostages,” Palmer replied. “But yeah, I agree, assuming we locate the hostages…this may not be too bad.”
“So…can one of you fill me in on the plan, then?” Morris asked.
Until this point, Morris had kept his thoughts and questions to himself. When he earlier proposed contacting the local police, he hadn’t received a forthright answer, but he knew when not to press the point. It was obvious Agent Henry was under orders not to involve the local police or he would have already done so. But as the time was getting late, he needed more information on what was about to go down.
“Dave, this has national security implications. I’m not at liberty to discuss anything in front of a civilian,” Henry replied.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he continued, turning to Angelina “but we’ll need to find a safe place to drop you off. It’s much too dangerous for you to go any further.”
Angelina turned toward Emerson, looking distraught. She hadn’t come this far to be summarily dismissed.
“I beg your pardon,” she said indignantly. “You wouldn’t be in a position to do anything if it weren’t for me,” she reminded them. “Emerson, you gave me your word that we’d find Sela together.”