CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE 

Ghosts in the desert 

The wind swept dry dust across the hills as the sky blushed with the pale light of dawn. Max Burke stood near the window, watching the first orange rays stretch across the gravel road leading to the safehouse. The mountain air smelled of creosote and coming rain, though the skies were clear.

Inside, Daisy sat at the worn dining table, legs crossed at the knee, a leather folder open before her. She had changed into a low-profile outfit—dark slacks, a windbreaker, and her signature heels still on her feet. Her hair was pinned up, exposing the earpiece Max had adjusted for her earlier. They were preparing for a silent breach—but it would require noise first.

Max turned from the window. “If we go in cold, they’ll be waiting. We need to draw them out of position.”

Daisy nodded. “Rook confirmed they’ve upped surveillance near the access points. They’re jumpy. We can use that.”

He checked his watch, then walked over to the laptop and tapped a key. A live feed blinked to life—thermal imagery from a passive satellite sweep. The target station, tucked away in the desert, had a faint glow: two vehicles, some heat signatures, no external patrols. But that didn’t mean it was unguarded.

“We need a misdirection,” Daisy said. “And not from thirty miles away. It has to feel real. Close enough to worry them.”

Max was already dialing. He stepped out onto the porch with the satellite phone pressed to his ear. The line picked up with a low grunt.

“I was hoping this number was burned,” said a familiar voice.

“It should have been. But I need a favor.”

“Of course you do. Where?”

“Arizona. Just outside Tucson. I’ll send coordinates.”

There was a pause. “You know the kind of trouble you’re inviting?”

“Would I be calling you if it weren’t?”

The line crackled, and then: “I’ll be there in twenty. And Burke—bring tequila this time.”

Thirty Minutes Later — Nico’s Safehouse

The place looked like an abandoned ranch to the untrained eye—rusted fencing, sun-bleached siding, and a broken satellite dish hanging from the edge of the roof. But inside, the walls told a different story: stacked ammo crates, frequency jammers, and an old corkboard cluttered with surveillance photos, grainy infrared images, and scribbled notes.

Nico poured whiskey into dented tin cups. Daisy declined politely, scanning the room. A tactical map of southern Arizona was pinned beside the corkboard. Layers of printouts named cartel networks, private militia outfits, and two disgraced DHS agents marked with Xs.

Max sat down heavily, cup untouched. “We need a noise event. Convoy, comms burst, heat map spikes. You still have those decoy vehicles?”

Nico raised an eyebrow. “You want to start a war in my backyard?”

“I want to make someone think one’s already started.”

Daisy finally spoke. “We need to divert them long enough for us to get in and out. Clean. Silent. No second tries.”

Nico gave her a long look. “She’s got the look of someone who’s done this before.”

Daisy smiled. “I used to wear different boots.”

He laughed, genuinely. “I like her.”

Max leaned forward, eyes sharp. “We hit the relay station tonight. One shot. But if they’re dug in, we can’t risk going in hot.”

“I’ve got a surplus Humvee rigged to look like a signal truck,” Nico said, already walking to a filing cabinet. “Fake satellite dish, rigged IR signature, even a fake DoD VIN plate. We roll it into a ridgeline south of the station, light up the radio chatter, maybe even toss in some encrypted code. They’ll send people. They’ll think they intercepted a scout team.”

Max nodded. “Can you make it look sloppy?”

“Sloppy is my art.” Nico smirked. “Give me one of Rook’s old keys for the burst and I’ll make them think the NSA’s bleeding secrets in broad daylight.”

Daisy crossed her arms. “What if they shoot on sight?”

“They will,” Nico replied. “Which is why I’ll be nowhere near it when they do.”

Later That Evening — Final Prep

Max and Daisy returned to their borrowed Jeep, the rear packed with field gear and signal interception tools. Daisy checked her gear in silence, her mind running logistics as Max confirmed the strike window with Rook.

“Still want to do this?” Max asked quietly, watching her from the corner of his eye.

She buckled the strap on her pack and looked up. “You’re the one with the computer science degree. I’m just the girl who gets you inside.”

He shook his head with a rare smile. “Don’t undersell yourself. You’re the only reason this plan might actually work.”

She smirked. “Besides Nico’s decoy convoy and Rook’s code injection?”

“Well, those help.”

As they stepped out of the Jeep to prep for the approach, Daisy bent down, removed her heels, and tucked them neatly into a side compartment. She slipped on a pair of matte-black sneakers and gave Max a wry look.

“Shocking, I know,” she said. “But stilettos don’t have great traction on gravel.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Did Jasmine approve this betrayal?”

“Only under tactical protest.”

“I’ll file a report with the fashion police.”

She grinned. “You’ll need to catch me first.”

They drove north, headlights off as they turned onto a dirt service road. The sky was lit with stars and silence—too much silence. Max knew they were likely already being watched. The group they were chasing had reach, and the closer they got to the station, the more dangerous the game became.

Approaching the Station

The high-altitude relay station stood like a forgotten relic on a remote bluff, surrounded by barbed fencing and minimal infrastructure. Its outward appearance screamed low value—just a dusty transmitter site. But Max had decrypted the real logs. It was rerouting command signals, bouncing military drone paths and communication bursts through blacklisted bands. It was a hijack point, and if the shadow group had control of it, they had access to far more than just data.

“Window opens in twenty,” Max said, peering through binoculars. “If Nico’s truck lit them up, they’ll be peeling south to check it out.”

“Rook confirm activity?” Daisy asked.

Max glanced at his sat phone. A secure ping showed one green bar, followed by a message:

ROOK: Decoy engaged. Three assets diverted. You’re green for entry. Five-minute window.

Daisy rolled her shoulders back, slipping her gloves on. “Ready when you are, Colonel.”

He smirked at that, motioning for her to follow. “Let’s go ruin someone’s night.”

They made their way down the embankment on foot, slipping past the perimeter under cover of darkness. A single security camera rotated slowly atop a pole, but Max had already looped it via remote signal splicing. He knew they had maybe three minutes before someone noticed the glitch.

Inside, the station buzzed with old equipment and humming servers. Max moved straight to the terminal, connecting a small black device to the port. “Keep watch. This is going to take sixty seconds.”

Daisy crouched near the entrance, eyes scanning the dark. Her heart beat fast—but steady. She could handle fear. What worried her was what they might find.

Max’s screen lit up—data spilling into the black box like a live wire. Frequencies, command keys, satellite relays, even spoofed White House authorization packets. Someone was building the illusion of top-down orders—and soon, they could manufacture chaos at scale.

He looked up. “We’ve got it.”

Daisy didn’t hesitate. “Then let’s ghost.”

They slipped out just as headlights swept the outer fence. A drone overhead shifted direction.

Max pulled her behind a boulder as the Jeep’s remote ignition kicked in—courtesy of Nico’s last-minute favor.

It roared to life and peeled down the opposite trail, dust cloud thick in its wake. The drone followed.

“Hell of a friend you’ve got,” Daisy whispered.

Max exhaled. “Remind me to buy him that tequila.”