The box, Boston—about the same time
“They’ve already started,” said Johansen as Massina entered the box.
“You should have called me.” Massina stared at the sitrep screen, trying to make out what was going on.
We’re going to make some huge improvements, he thought to himself. I want to see things in real time, up close, and without relying on their satellites and feeds. It’s going to be easy to ID our people. We’re going to have more bots and devices on the ground. UAVs. It’s going to be our operation.
“Where are they?” he asked Johansen.
“They’re at the house.” Johansen’s tone was even sharper than usual. “Still two or three guerillas to take care of. Then they have to get out.”
“Where are Chelsea and Bozzone?”
“They’re in their command truck, in the south. It’s out of the frame.”
“Why?”
“I guess they’re concentrating the feed on the house. The vans are too far from the action. Don’t worry. Just a few more minutes, and everyone will be fine.”