The Project 04 - Black Harvest

there were ten large buildings to the west, spaced evenly in two rows along the fence.
    On the eastern side was an L-shaped building with parking areas. South of the structure, five two-story buildings followed a perfect line. It reminded Nick of a military base. A good sized airstrip ran along the eastern border, with two runways crossing each other in an offset X. It was contained within the fenced perimeter. It featured a windsock, a hanger and a helicopter pad. The pad was empty.
    A paved two lane access road connected everything in a neat grid. Two more of the big buildings sat at the far eastern corner of the compound. Beyond them and the fence, the Texas panhandle headed south toward civilization.
    "The outside fence is twelve feet high and electrified." Harker traced it with a laser pointer. "Razor wire on top. Floodlights that come on at dusk."
    "Typical," Lamont said.
    "How's your arm?"
    "Better." He held it up, out of the sling. "I can use it. I've been working it."
    "Good. Because you're going."
    "All right." Lamont grinned. "Back in the saddle."
    "There's only the one gate, backed by the guard house. Dansinger owns the land up to the highway and 5000 surrounding acres. Security will have monitors on everything. There are cameras along the outer fence and on the corners and entrances of each building. Those big buildings are where he grows his crops."
    "What's that L-shaped one?" Nick said.
    "That's admin. Offices. The next two buildings are for equipment, supplies, vehicle storage, that kind of thing. There's a full garage and shop. He's got a fire station with two engines. The security vehicles park there. They use GMC Suburbans, like the Feds."
    Nick pointed. "Next to the Suburbans. Get a closer look."
    Steph zoomed in with the satellite camera.
    "Well, well. Three Humvees, M-240s on top. Early models, looks like. There's no protection for the gunner. How the hell does Dansinger have stuff like that? What's he need them for?"
    "Coyotes, maybe," Ronnie said.
    "That building next to them could be a barracks. Adam mentioned security."
    "How many men, you think?"
    Nick thought about it. "Hard to say. Three Humvees, eight SUVs. Probably two men in the guardhouse, two in the patrol vehicles. Probably three shifts. I'd guess around forty. Former military, with those Humvees and guns. Gone over to the Dark Side. That's a lot of firepower to protect a few rows of corn. He's got himself a little army there."
    "Mercenaries." Korov's voice was full of contempt.
    "Yeah, mercs. Except we don't call them that anymore. Now they're contractors."
    "The compound is self sufficient except for power. It comes in from the road." Harker used a laser pointer to indicate an electrical substation where the access drive made a T with the highway.
    "He has to keep those buildings cool." Nick studied the image. Propane tanks and gas pumps were visible in the photo.
    "Those are backup generators behind that last building, near the propane tanks. Big ones. It would take a few minutes to get them up and running if the power goes down. They're vulnerable from the rear."
    Two men came out of the building next to the Humvees. One man carried an assault rifle. They climbed into one of the security vehicles.
    "Not much cover," Ronnie rubbed his chin. The land around the compound was featureless.
    "Nothing except jack rabbits, weeds and cactus," Harker said. "Steph, show us Texas."
    A map of Texas appeared on the wall monitor. Dansinger's compound was northwest of Amarillo, off Highway 87 and a state highway linking two small towns.
    "I can get you and your gear to Dyess in Abilene or Sheppard in Wichita Falls. You'll have to drive from there. We can't use helicopters for this."
    "Looks like Sheppard and Dyess are about the same distance away." Nick studied the map. "The roads are more direct from Sheppard. 287 to Amarillo, then 87 north. Piece of cake. Get us to Sheppard."

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

    Nick poured wine for Selena, whiskey for himself. They sat at the counter in his apartment. He'd fixed a simple plate of snacks. Crackers, celery and cream cheese. Olives. Brie.
    There was a comfortable silence between them.
    "I've been thinking."
    "About what?" He cut a piece of brie, smeared it on a cracker.
    "Us. You and me." She sipped. "You want to move in together or not?"
    There it was.
    "Mostly."
    "Mostly?"
    "It might be a bad idea."
    "Why?"
    "I'm afraid I'll fuck it up."
    "Me too."
    "That I'll fuck it up?"
    "That we both will. Maybe we