As dusk settled over the Southern Province, Zara and Chen prepared for their infiltration of the plantation house. Maya and Sasha had finalized the secure database and continued consolidating contacts, providing Zara and Chen with essential support. They met near the trailhead, the air thick with humidity and the scent of damp earth. Chen adjusted his night-vision goggles.
"Remember," Zara said, her voice low, "we stick to the plan. Observe, record, and get out without being seen. No confrontations unless absolutely necessary."
Chen nodded, patting the small camera attached to his vest. "Got it. Let's hope Vance is as predictable as our intel suggests."
The narrow trail wound steeply into the mountains, the dense vegetation closing in around them. The only light came from the sliver of moon overhead, casting long, distorted shadows that danced with the rustling leaves. Chen led the way, his movements fluid and silent, while Zara followed closely behind, her senses on high alert.
After an hour of climbing, they reached a ridge overlooking the plantation house. The estate was sprawling, with manicured lawns, a large swimming pool, and several outbuildings. Security guards patrolled the perimeter, their flashlights cutting through the darkness.
"Impressive," Chen murmured, adjusting his binoculars. "He's definitely not taking any chances."
Zara scanned the scene, noting the locations of the security posts and cameras. "We need to get closer," she said. "There's a blind spot near the old stables—we might be able to get a vantage point there."
They carefully descended the ridge, moving from tree to tree, until they reached the edge of the estate. The stables were dilapidated, the wood rotting and the roof sagging. They slipped inside, the air thick with the smell of mildew and decay.
"Perfect," Chen said, setting up his camera on a rickety table. "From here, we can see the main house and the meeting room where Vance usually conducts his business."
They waited in silence, watching as figures moved inside the house. After about an hour, Vance appeared, flanked by two men Zara recognized from Sasha's photos—the ones with criminal records from Port Cascadia. They entered the meeting room, the blinds drawn but the sound of their voices carrying through the thin walls.
Chen adjusted the camera, zooming in on the window. The audio was faint, but he managed to amplify it using a small microphone. Zara listened intently, her heart pounding in her chest.
"The farmers are getting restless," Vance was saying, his voice cold and hard. "They need a reminder of what's at stake. I want crops burned, equipment destroyed. Make sure they understand that resistance is futile."
One of the men spoke up. "What about Morgan? He's been talking to people, trying to organize them."
"Deal with him," Vance replied, his tone dismissive. "Make an example of him. And if anyone else tries to interfere, they'll suffer the same consequences."
Zara clenched her fists, her anger simmering. This was exactly the kind of evidence they needed.