She drove the car another mile, to what seemed to be the rear part of the property, assuming the gate was at the front. The car rolled slowly onto the gravel shoulder opposite the property, where they waited for a few minutes to get a sense of the traffic flow. There seemed to be none. The women got out and switched seats so Kathryn could launch the drone without being seen from the road. The real-time transmission and wide angle were in working order. She directed Yoko to ping Charles so he could upload the feed and observe as the drone flew over the fence.

Despite her big hands, Kathryn maneuvered the drone’s control box with the skill and agility of a surgeon. The drone moved up and over the overgrown fence, putting it out of their sight. The only view they had came from the camera mounted on the drone. Using the panoramic lens, Kathryn scanned the side of the building. There were several security cameras, alarms, blacked-out windows, and a dozen steel overhead doors. Nothing gave away the contents of the building. Except they didn’t want visitors.

“Wow. What is this place?” Kathryn asked.

Yoko was about to look over Kathryn’s shoulder when the alert signal went off on both of their phones. The sound meant “Abort!” It came from Charles. Within seconds, a round of gunshots went off.

The women dashed back into the car. As Kathryn peeled away, kicking up gravel and dust in their wake, Yoko kept a steady watch out the rear window. So far, no one was following them. Still, Kathryn kept the pedal to the metal and soared down the country road at eighty miles per hour.

Charles pinged them: Two men dressed in orange coveralls with hoods. He had been able to see them as they ran out of the building with their weapons. Seconds later, the transmission from the drone went dead.

Yoko turned to look at Kathryn. “There must be something very serious going on in that place.”

“You got that right. But what? And how do we find out? Wait. I have an idea. I’m willing to bet that whoever works there goes out for a beer after his shift. Maybe with some coworkers. Let’s check out some local bars tonight.”

Yoko looked stunned at the suggestion. “What are we supposed to do? Walk up to them and ask, ‘Hey, do you work at that secret place where they shoot drones?’”

“Nooo . . . but we could be two people passin’ through, stopping for something to drink,” Kathryn offered.

“Still, what do we say to them?” Yoko pressed.