Page 59 of Raven's Mark
"Your watch," he says, nodding at the case. "Transmitter's embedded in the band. Put it on before you go into town." He taps the phone next. "It’s a burner. Clean SIM, no contacts, no prior activity. Cipher will send you updates while you’re in the bar. Leave it with Maria when you leave."
Raven takes the case and phone, tucking them into her jacket pocket. "Thank you."
Within ten minutes, the cabin is cleared. No evidence of our presence, no trace that a tactical team has been planning an operation from this location. We move out in a coordinated convoy, vehicles spaced to avoid drawing attention, heading toward Fredericksburg and the rally point Carmichael established.
I drive with Raven in the passenger seat, watching the rearview mirror for pursuit. The roads stay clear. Behind us, the cabin recedes into the Hill Country landscape, empty and silent.
"They'll tear it apart when they get there," Raven says quietly.
"Let them. There's nothing to find." I take the turn onto the highway and accelerate. "By the time they realize you're not there, you'll already be in Fredericksburg."
We reach the staging area twenty minutes later. It's a shuttered warehouse on the edge of town, a squat concrete building with rolling bay doors and steel-reinforced walls, thekind of place that sat empty long enough to be forgotten. Knox identified it during reconnaissance sweeps.
Carmichael's SUV is already parked inside when we pull in, the bay door rolling up just long enough to admit us before grinding closed behind. The surveillance van Hawk is driving pulls in alongside. Carmichael stands at a steel work table under the fluorescent lights with his tablet and an encrypted phone, coordinating with the federal response team staged five minutes north.
He disconnects when he sees us. The team starts unloading equipment as he crosses to meet me. "Federal response teams are in position. FBI staged north of Fredericksburg, US Marshals to the east, Texas Rangers to the south. Once you have the cartel's location, they'll converge."
"Good." I gesture for Carmichael to follow and walk him to the far edge of the clearing, out of earshot. "What else?"
Carmichael lowers his voice, angling away. "Your other assets are positioned. Three operatives ready in Kerrville, two in Comfort. They're monitoring cartel communications and ready to move on your word."
I nod once. If the official response fails or gets delayed, these operatives will extract Raven regardless of federal protocols or jurisdictional concerns.
"Keep them on standby," I say. "If this goes sideways, they move first."
Carmichael nods and heads back toward the table, and I follow.
He sets the tablet down and pulls up intel files. "My contacts traced Harlan's communications. He's been making calls to a burner phone that pings towers in the Kerrville area. Multiple calls over the last two days, each brief. Pattern suggests coordination."
The data shows what I expected. Kerrville sits close enough for the cartel to run operations, isolated enough to stay off the radar.
"Kerrville fits the profile," I say. "Big enough for a coordination center, accessible enough for rapid movement. Large enough population they can blend in with all of the travelers and easy access to the highway."
"My assessment as well." Carmichael swipes through additional files. "Surveillance photos of known cartel operatives moving through the area, pattern analysis of vehicle movements. All of it points to Kerrville as the most probable location."
Everyone pulls in and starts setting up the mobile command center. Cipher's laptop and communications equipment go on the folding table beside Carmichael's tablet. The team spreads maps across another table. Weapons and tactical gear get laid out for final checks.
I repeat the operational roles. "Carmichael, you coordinate directly with Cipher on communications intercept. The moment we have confirmed location, you bring in federal teams. Rook, overwatch from the parking garage roof in Fredericksburg. Knox and Beckett, counter-surveillance. Hawk and Torque, rapid response. Everyone knows their position."
Carmichael moves to stand beside Cipher, already pulling up communication channels on his tablet.
Raven sits on the tailgate of Knox's truck, fastening the watch around her wrist. It looks ordinary, unremarkable, exactly the kind of thing a woman might wear to a bar on a weekday afternoon. But it's broadcasting a signal that Cipher can track from anywhere in a fifty-mile radius.
I cross to where she's sitting and hand her the hair tie with the final transmitter woven into the fabric.
"Cipher will monitor you continuously," I say. "If the signal cuts, I move immediately."
"I know." She stares up at me, and the fear I've been watching for finally surfaces in her eyes. Not panic, not hesitation. Just the honest acknowledgment of what she's about to do and the very real possibility that it might go wrong. "Jesse."
"I'm here."
I cup her face in my hands, thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone. My hands are rough from years of violence, callused from weapons and operations, but she leans into the touch anyway.
Carmichael approaches with a final piece of equipment, a small panic button disguised as a key fob. "If you're in immediate danger and can't wait for extraction, press this. It sends a distress signal directly to Cipher and Jesse. We'll come in loud."
Raven takes the key fob and slips it into her pocket. "Understood."
"All transmitters are broadcasting clean," Cipher says as he walks over. "I've got solid signal strength on all four units. You're good to go." He gives me a fist bump. "Stay alive."
