“Payback’s gonna be such a fuckin’ bitch for those motherfuckers, Sandy,” Flix said, addressing their dead compatriot. Hunkered down low, he fiddled with his equipment, which seemed to include a lot more items than the last time. Clearly, he was taking no chances. “By the time we go in I’ll have jammed every fucking piece of their comm net. They’ll be deaf, dumb, and blind.”

“Just the way we like ’em,” Whitman said.

Charlie snorted. “You two sound like you’re playing a video sim.”

Flix lifted his head, glared at her. “What d’you know about it, nene?”

“Call me a baby again,” she said, “and you’ll be eating out of your throat.”

“Back off, you two,” Whitman said. A fight was the last thing they needed at this juncture. “You’re both professionals. Make me believe.”

Flix made a face, but said, “You can count on me, compadre.”

Whitman nodded, turned to Charlie. “No more talk, got it? I want you focused on the mission.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Charlie said. “I’m your gunslinger.”

She handed Whit an assault rifle whose configuration he’d never seen before. It was as light as a feather.

“What’s this thing made of?” he asked.

“Titanium, mostly.” She slapped the side gently. “It uses 5.56mm ammo I made myself. The copper tips are soft enough to flower open on impact. Trust me, you don’t ever want to get shot with one of those babies.”

She brought out a fully automatic FN Herstal gas-powered F2000 assault rifle. It was configured with a 40mm FN EGLM grenade launcher. “This is a fucking cannon. Apart from the grenade, it’s loaded with custom incendiary ammo. Anyone who gets in its way, they’ll be scraping pieces of him off what’s left of the wall behind him.”

Whitman had been taking infrared photos through the Bluetooth connection in his night goggles. They took off, circumnavigating the compound. When they returned to the place where they had started, they looked at all the photos together.

Flix’s forefinger stabbed out, pointing to a spot on one of the high-angle photos taken from their hilltop perch. The shot was grainy, due to the long lens on the night goggles, but the black rectangle was clear enough. “The generator junction is right there. They haven’t moved it since the last time.”

“Get me to within a hundred twenty yards of it,” Charlie said, patting the side of her F2000, “and it’s history.”

“Right.” Whitman considered a moment, shuffling the photos. “Infiltration begins here.”

“At the front gate?” Flix said. “Are you nuts?”

“It’s the last place they’ll be expecting an assault,” Whitman said. “Besides, it’s the best egress within sight of the generator complex. I can take out the iron gate, giving Charlie a clear shot.”

Flix eyed their weapons. “I want a cannon like…” He broke off, looked at her. “Like you have.”