Zubair moved forward half a step, the heat radiating from him caused the prisoner to flinch. His shoulders went up like he could hide his neck there.
Sera didn't blink. "How many men at the plant," she asked, voice soft, almost friendly.
"I-it rotates," Gabe stammered. "Maybe fifty? A hundred when a shipment's due." He swallowed. "They don't have girls there. Not for long."
"Routes south," Alexei resumed, as if the subject was weather again. "You said bridges are owned. How many, and who watches."
Gabe exhaled in a tremor.
"Two big bridges on the highway. Three smaller across feeder roads. The Cartel holds the big ones. They put their men on the small and swap them when they want someone to hurt new. Each post has a radio. I don't know what they did to make them work. One east end keeps a crate of flares to string a line across the road. Takes heads off bikes if you don't know it's there."
"Cute," Lachlan muttered.
