Elise rode in the passenger seat of the service van as Birddog pulled the vehicle up in the lot of an abandoned high school football field. Behind the field a concrete stairwell lead up the side of an embankment where several school house buildings stood in severe disrepair.

Intel from the Salvage's two informants on del Alma-Gris' crew revealed that inside the lower levels of the buildings her crew warehoused a great deal of their stolen goods.

Elise had Birddog and her brother Andulus Caza run a drone recognizance earlier that morning to verify the information. Heat signatures escaped from the vents and revealed that bio-diesel was being ran through a set of generators continuously.

One large basement section was being used for cold storage. That their operations were so extensive they needed to freeze things raised Elise's eyebrows as she skimmed over the Caza twins' findings.

Elise scowled as she sipped her coffee.

"Any indication that the del Alma-Gris crew rustles cattle on the side?"

Wiping away the remains of a crumbly Donca Donut off of her cheek, Birddog created a mess. There was nothing jovial about the upcoming meeting but Elise chuckled anyway. Plump and cute goofs was how Elise preferred her girlfriends to counter balance her own often overly serious attitude.

She enjoyed a good diversion wherever she could get it.

Elise handed Birddog a sanitized wipe.

"Thank you. I considered the side hustling cattle rustling possibility. So I cross-indexed the Salvage data files. According to Matzi, her walk around guy, the original cold storage was put in place after an incident where the residents of a small villa of thirteen houses on the Bolivian side of the Paraná River were forced to evacuate after ascospores swept through the area.

"Del Alma-Gris' team seized the remaining livestock after renting two eighteen wheelers. It wasn't a typical score for her, but I think she was indulging a team member who came up with the plan."

Elise nodded along enthusiastically. It was a smart move to salvage the abandoned livestock, and in-line with the ethical considerations that del Alma-Gris typically made in her heists.

What did her folio of fiends that worked under her think of that? Elise bounced the idea off of Birddog.

"I can imagine how much trouble she has keeping that crew in line. Some of those files we have on them make me sick to my stomach. It is a real creep show she has on her hands. I doubt if she could handle herself if a few ever decided to try to put her in her place and run the organization."

Birddog gave it some thought as if she carefully needed to decide what to say next.

"I pondered that as well," Birddog said. "A team of five men and two women plus del Alma-Gris. It is a rogue's gallery of ill-rep. Studying two dozen of their scores, I came to a conclusion.

"Most of those heists could not have occurred without del Alma-Gris' unique skill set. So, for most members of that crew her leadership is a reasonable trade off as it gives them access to things normally beyond their capabilities."

Elise scowled again. Her upper lip up tense this time. She heard the conditional inflection in Birddog's voice. There was some matter the tech preferred not to elaborate on.

"Most?"

Fiona glanced over. She squinted uncomfortably.

"You caught that. There was an incident several months ago that Matzi reported to his Salvage control. One absolute thug on her crew serving as muscle caught her off guard when the others were elsewhere. He punched her in the face, she dropped, and he held her down for over two hours while . . ."

Elise frowned and Fiona quit talking. Her face aged ten years when she bowed her head. Elise's fingertips touched, as she whispered, "Jesus . . .," as she took a moment to pray.

After an awkward moment of silence, Fiona spoke up.

"When I said I felt all the pity in the world for that girl, I wasn't kidding. Hey, Chief! They are starting to head down the steps."

Elise cleared her face. "So what happened to the bastard? Surely he is not part of the crew still?"

Fiona shook her head. "Matzi told his control that word of what occurred got back to del Alma-Gris' people. The torso, legs, and arms were found after he was drawn and quartered, floating in a barrel on the Paraguay River."

"Damn. Was it Sachmilli?"

"Matzi refused to tell his control any more than 'her people.'"

Elise shook her head. She saw several sets of eyes turned her way where del Alma-Gris' people stood on the opposite side of the field.

At the next question, Elise's voice went up a register.

"I have to wonder . . .?"

"Her condition is triggered by pleasure and not fear. So no."

Elise gulped down the remainder of her coffee.

"I need to get going."

As Elise reached for the door handle, Fiona clasped her forearm.

"Elise. There is more."

She straightened herself back into the seat and gave Fiona a nod.

"I'm listening."

"Matzi believes that gaunt, tall one there by the name Varook lured the other crew members to a decoy event so the muscle could carry out the assault."

Elise gave him a quick glance. Oddly squared brows under a black adder American style cowboy hat that bore a silver band. Greasy hair fell down the sides of his neck.

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She checked her 10mm Magellani Terra Bruciata to see if it was properly chambered, then the recoil mitigator glove to see if it was set to snap on properly before she sized up Varook once more; she now understood why his cover wasn't blown after the assault.

Elise opened the door but turned her head back around.

"Hey, Birddog? Neither Varook nor Matzi is aware the other is a snitch, right?"

Fiona smiled and she shook her head in amazement.

"Your instinct for the cynical operational imperative is without peer."

Elise winked and jumped out and onto the ground.

Del Alma-Gris did not seem pleased as Elise sauntered across the field.

"You kept us waiting. I let you this close to my operation and you keep us waiting? What were the two of you talking about?"

Elise smiled. She laughed at the performative outrage done for the benefit of her crew.

"'Close to my operation', you say?" Elise began with a mocking taunt.

"Don't bullshit me, del Alma-Gris. There is nothing in those buildings you give a damn about. It is distraction, a side business for your crew designed merely to keep them preoccupied."

Del Alma-Gris' eyes lingered on Elise for a few uncomfortable moments for Elise.

She wasn't expecting to feel the heat of admiration from someone she just performed a deliberate dressing down.

The thief broke out of her momentary spell, and turned her head to another female companion; they exchanged meaningful glances.

Birddog sent info on the female and Elise's left eye came alive with the data spilling forth on an AR screen embedded in her cornea.

Simone Barre Estèvez, a Spaniard. In Iberia she was a street hustler and prostitute. More interestingly, she is still an active murder suspect in both Toledo and Vida Escondida for a series of black widow style killings that police classified as an on-going menace. The hustler likely fled Spain due to the heat closing in on her by investigators.

Estèvez kept her curly reddish-brown hair up in a black paisley bandanna. She gave del Alma-Gris a nod and a shrug.

"Alright," del Alma Gris said as she turned back to face Elise. "Let's put our beef to the side It's frankly serving no legitimate purpose and makes us look like amateurs."

While Elise eyed the crew for any sign of trouble she noticed Varook's eyes were fixed on the van. Specifically, he lay his gaze on Birddog. Elise's right hand tensed up as she fought the urge to pull out the Magellani.

Estèvez noticed the tension between the parties. She clasped the gun at her belt that ran against her thigh, its holster tie-stringed at severe angles against a pair of white jeans.

It was a spear gun that rotated three bolts in its chamber.

Odd choice. Serves a mission related purpose?

Estèvez turned towards Varook and glowered.

"Hey, Chort. Get your eyes off the girl over there. Could you stop being a freakshow for just one mission?"

He glared back at the Spaniard.

"Try me," Estèvez taunted.

Varook bounced off one foot and then the other. He said nothing but turned around and started back up the steps.

"Chort," said del Alma-Gris.

He turned with a side glance.

"Inventory day," he asked in a whisper of a voice.

"Yup."

"Gotcha," he said with a curt nod, and bounced up the steps.

Elise took note. Estèvez was now del Alma-Gris' muscle, and she kept the team in check and did the thief's dirty work. Whereas, del Alma-Gris diffused the situations that developed by reminding the offended party of their contribution to the group.

It was a psychological gambit long established in criminal organizations. Whatever disadvantage being four foot eleven gave the thief, this was a guild master level operative standing before her.

And now she grinned at Elise.

"With that out of the way, I may have something for you."

"I'm listening," Elise answered.

"I know how they set up those turrets. How much is it worth to you? This is not about greed don't misunderstand, this entailed over a hundred man hours of invested time. My people need to see a return, a commitment on your part, to be assured this is a worthwhile endeavor."

By her deliberate word choice and tone, Elise got the message the little thief sought to impress her.

Elise spoke out loud.

"Very well, Birddog, give me a figure."

On the IR panel that hovered on the lower left field of Elise's vision, Fiona's words read in:

She has a crush on you! A wee, tency girl crush!

Elise smiled and said outloud, "well, obviously, but . . ."

Fiona finished Elise's sentence.

Del Alma-Gris is straight as an arrow, according to my censors she is a little flushed in the cheeks and neck but mostly in her eyes, meaning the appeal is cerebral, so I have no worries. But still, this is very exploitable!!!!

Del Alma-Gris screwed up her face as she listened in. It was becoming awkward.

"Repeat that figure, dear. I have only one chance to get it right."

40, 40.

"Thought so. Got it -," Elise looked up, and addressed del Alma-Gris, "- Forty thousand immediately forwarded in your account with Vida Express Services. It is already done. Another forty thousand in an assurity if your profit from the raid comes to less than eighty thousand."

Del Alma-Gris gave a very satisfied smile.

"I have to say, this is looking very positive. My Quant had concerns."

Elise kept her face unemotive and passive in reaction when she heard the word, 'Quant.'

She was expecting it.

Del Alma-Gris told the group there was someone she consulted who dealt in advanced calculations that went by the guerre de nom, "The Quant."

The non-redacted portions of the Sigrid Rosa file gave Elise an astounding insight into del Alma-Gris' mind. The Quant was a voice inside her head. The voices were a side-effect of the rewiring done to her in the womb where she created a rationalization of the artificial neurological architecture that the interior of her mind bounced against. Del Alma-Gris had many other names for the voices in her head in the past - it really depended upon the maturity of her stage in life at the time.

Elise finally nodded as she realized del Alma-Gris was waiting for her to acknowledge her own duplicitous motivation out in the open.

The bounty hunter spoke.

"You are aware I lost nearly a half million in inventory, and the 1.2 million bounty for you -," Elise swept her hand from right to left, "- and the half million for them could pay for a lot of equipment to get me back in the game. My team wont go for it. Those three Nortes, the US Army veterans, came here to live in the Quadra for one reason only -."

"To capture my grandfather."

Elise shrugged, "or kill him. Do you have a problem with that? Is it going to be a problem between us?"

Del Alma-Gris shook her head fiercely.

"I can't deny those men have a legitimate vendetta. Kutuzov did what he did."

Elise folded her arms.

"So, are we good?"

Del Alma-Gris chortled, but by the way the thief held her head aslant with her eyes dancing, Elise had no doubt that she was enthralled with the idea of the heist in spite of any harsh words she said to appease her crew at a bullshit street cred level.

"Lady. You are a bounty hunter. Good isn't quite the right word, you know, but for now my conditions have been met and I am satisfied we have a deal.

"Raquel turn on the light show for our guest, will you? Please, turn around Senora Luna Claro. I will demonstrate how a little over sight on your part turned into a fuck up for the ages."

Behind Elise now stood a holograph of the entire Dimittis cult compound before any of the destruction occurred. A visual of the first turret repeated in slow motion. It popped out from the clubhouse wall from a box where it began as a near 2D formation and by the time it clamped onto the awning it had changed into a full-blown volumetric space occupying killing machine.

"You see that one meter by two meter panel on the wall behind the awning that your crew mistook for a incandescent spot light. It is a simple low energy LED creating the illusion of being a fully-watted lawn swivel light. It was designed to throw off any detection of the heat signature emitting from the IWA, Instant Wall Assembly."

Elise gasped. "Unbelievable! An IWA that morphs into a turret? I've only seen them used to hide and switch out entrance and exit locations on high security buildings."

Del Alma-Gris smiled impishly.

"You thought wrong and it turned out to be the biggest fuck up of your career."

Clearly, the little thief was enjoying this, so much so that she grabbed Elise by the hand and started to lead her.

"Come on. You're going to love this part because you wont need any expensive bore equipment to accomplish it. This is how we are going to fuck their shit up for good!"

Elise briskly walked beside her new friend who was now skipping along uninhibitedly.