Wyatt glanced at him and then away. There was a note of longing in Malichai's voice, one Wyatt was certain he wouldn't want anyone to notice. Growing up poor in the bayou had been a struggle, but they hadn't realized they were poor. Nonny made them feel lucky and very loved. He knew his brothers felt the same as he did about their home.
"Yours was a good childhood," Ezekiel commented.
"Yeah," Wyatt agreed. "The best. We worked hard but we played just as hard." He held up his hand for silence and indicated for Malichai to put his pole down.
Sound travels on these waters like you wouldn't believe. No noise. Ezekiel, can you do your thing with the insects? If they go silent, the guards are goin' to know. We want the alligators to bellow and the frogs to croak.
Ezekiel, even as a boy, could manipulate the insects, calling them to him, sending them away. None of the team knew how he did it, but the ability was an asset unlike any other. He could move without detection through any type of terrain and protect his entire team while doing it. Since his enhancement, Ezekiel's ability had grown into a powerful instrument. He could flood the entire compound with swarms of insects, snakes and frogs should he want to do such a thing.
No problem. Give me a minute to connect. Ezekiel was all business. Once on the hunt, he wasn't a man who joked around like some of the other members on the team - Wyatt included.
We're close then? Malichai asked.
We've got a little tramp through the swamp. It's dangerous. There're a few spongy places in this direction.
Wyatt used the pole carefully, each movement slow and easy, so that even the pole moving through the water made no splash as he used it to push off the bottom and propel them forward through the shallow water toward the shore. The pirogue easily ran onto the ground and all three stepped off.
Gator slide right at your feet, Malichai. Move to your left. You don' want to meet that big boy tonight. He's been around for a long while and he's a wily one. He's eaten more than one huntin' dog for dinner.
That's why you have all those dogs at your place. You use them for hunting, Malichai said.
We also like Nonny to have them around when all of us are gone.
Malichai slid his knife from his boot and stepped away from the muddy slide where clearly a large alligator moved from land to water on a regular basis. The moment they stepped onto land, all three changed subtly, lifting their faces to the air for information.
The five o'clock shadow on their faces along with the small hair on their bodies acted like sonar, a radar to give them precise information on their surroundings. They could tell if a small space was enough to slide their bodies through or if the branches of a tree could support their weight. They knew the location of every animal close to them. They each had allowed their hair to grow longer, believing it aided them in gathering more information as well as keeping them in tune to their surroundings and danger.
Can we use the trees? Malichai asked.
Once we're closer to the compound. We can move fairly quickly through here. There're only a few spots that are dangerous. Watch for snakes.
I'll keep the snakes away, Ezekiel assured.
Wyatt led the way. On land, they made no noise, slipping through the thick brush and reeds easily, their bodies fluid, the roped muscles and flexible spines giving them an advantage as they made their way toward the part of the swamp Nonny had spent years transplanting her medicinal herbs and plants in.
We're right at the edge of Grand-mere's field. The local traiteur has used Nonny's concoctions for years. Wyatt didn't bother to try to keep the pride from his voice.
He remembered as a little boy, coming to this part of the swamp with his grandmother. She carried plants, carefully wrapped to transplant. One by one. She found them in other places throughout the vast swamp land, dug them up in the heat and humidity with mosquitos biting her and tramped through dangerous swamp to transfer them to this section.
Why? Ezekiel asked, surveying the acre of plants.
She told me that we all get old and havin' them in one spot where we could watch over them and take care of them would ensure our families would always have medicine if they couldn't afford modern medicine. Remember she's in her eighties. She was the local pharmacist for years. When the traiteur needed a medicine, she would experiment with plants and herbs until she found the best one that worked. That's what all this is. It's the bayou's pharmacy.
Grand-mere is quite a woman, Malichai reiterated.
Wyatt felt pride in his grandmother and was pleased at the admiration of his friend for her. Nonny wore old clothes and smoked a pipe. She was very traditional in a lot of ways and some people just didn't take to her. He was glad his friends didn't view her at face value.
Malichai and Ezekiel were two of the toughest men Wyatt knew - and he knew plenty of hard-asses. As a rule the brothers kept to themselves. It had taken hundreds of missions before the two had included Wyatt in their small circle of absolute trusted friends.
He had hoped his grandmother would work her spell on them both, but on Ezekiel in particular. His nature, shaped on the streets of Detroit, was already savage. Adding cat DNA made him far more aggressive and dangerous. Grand-mere was a stabilizing influence no matter what. He couldn't imagine anyone resisting her down-home wisdom and the sheer welcome she gave to complete strangers. It helped that already, he could tell, she had their respect.
Dogs, Ezekiel warned. Up ahead and to the left of us.
That would be the corner of Nonny's pharmaceutical field. They spread out, each moving independently of the other, heading for the thick growth of trees outside the tall chain-link fence.
Nonny was right. The fence was overkill for whatever they were keeping hidden from the world. Wyatt caught sight of the sign. Wilson Plastics. Now that was a load of crap, but they'd claim they were researching and needed the security to keep out rival companies. He'd have to send Joe the name of the company and find out who owned it and what they actually did.
Rolls of razor wire had been strung all along the top of the fence. The three-story building was a good forty feet from the fence with no ground cover.
Are they keepin' us out, or somethin' in? Wyatt asked the others.
Good question, Malichai replied. I'd say there's a good chance it's both.
Maybe they really are making dirty bombs in there, just like Nonny said, Ezekiel added. We've got a guard and dog approaching at six o'clock, Wyatt, and I think he's the one that shoved Grand-mere.
Wyatt studied the big man. He moved easily, fluidly. Too easily. The large semiautomatic cradled in his arms looked a part of him.
Something's not right here, Ezekiel said. That's no private security. He knows his way around a gun. And that dog is skilled. He's not for show.
Maybe, but more likely ex-military private security. He just doesn't feel enhanced to me. Good, but not Whitney kind of soldier, Wyatt said.
The dog looked out toward the trees where the three of them were concealed, alerting for just a moment before Ezekiel could calm him.
Dog smells big cats and doesn't like it. He's difficult to control. If I push too hard I could hurt him, Ezekiel warned. You're better with mammals, Wyatt.
You try. I'll save my energy for reptiles.
The handler was skilled as well. He didn't dismiss the dog's seeming confusion. He stopped immediately and shone his light all along the ground leading to the fence on the inside, not the outside. That told Wyatt there was something inside they didn't want out.
You need the practice, Ezekiel, and the dog's listenin' to you. Wyatt wanted to save every bit of energy for dealing with the man who'd shoved his grandmother. He knew he wasn't 100 percent healed, but he wasn't going to wait to give the man a beating.
The guard checked the fence itself next. He stepped up to it with his light and carefully examined all along the chain link, even up to the razor wire. He was thorough in his inspection, taking his time, another mark of a professional. When he was finished, he crouched beside the dog, scratching its ears and talking low while he examined the ground on the other side of the fence.
What the hell is he lookin' for? Wyatt asked.
Not us, Malichai said. It hasn't even occurred to him yet that he might have someone out here watchin' him.
The guard spoke into his radio softly. Wyatt's hearing had always been extremely acute and was even more so from both his psychic and physical enhancements. With the feline DNA, he found he could hear higher pitches far better than he'd ever been able to before.
Did you make out what he said, Wyatt? Malichai asked.
He asked someone inside to check the cells. Cells, not rooms. And I don' think he's enhanced. He's been a soldier at one time, but he's not a GhostWalker.
Wyatt's warning radar was beginning to give him a few prickles. He took a long slow look around, careful not to rustle a single leaf in the tree.
I don' think we're alone out here, boys. You feelin' anythin'?
There was a long silence while both brothers stretched their senses to encompass as much of their surroundings as possible.