Zeke asked quietly. “As I’ll ever be,” Noa muttered. Her hands ran over the tools and weapons hidden under a voluminous black jacket, checking for the hundredth time that they were all there. She had the Taser, and pepper spray for good measure. Zip ties and a box cutter. A pocket flashlight. A precious flashbang grenade, recovered during one of their earlier raids. She was dressed in black with a checkered scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, positioned so that when the time came, she could pull it up to hide her lower face. Although chances were, everyone in that building knew exactly who she was. “All right.” Zeke peered through the night-vision binoculars again. It was late, nearly midnight. The same three guards were outside. Two played cards on a set of camping chairs by the main door, huddled beneath the security light. The other had made a few listless tours of the perimeter. “They’re tired and bored,” Zeke said with satisfaction. “Piece of cake.” “Don’t jinx us,”
