Page 82 of Slack Tide Kill

"So we're not going direct to the Black Gutter now?" Sally asked.

Bledd frowned at her. "Now? Of course not. We do an overpass first. Your crew's not going to be ready for hours yet, according to the suit."

"His name's O'Connell," Sally said. "Officer O'Connell."

"Everyone's got a name, love," Bledd said. "It's nothing to boast about. Now." He pushed a button inside the case, activating a tablet screen. In seconds it synced to the feed from the drone's camera. "Law says I fly this thing no higher than 400 feet. That high, if the Rooks are in the Black Gutter, they'll hear it and see it." He paused. "If I take it higher though? Say a few thousand. We'll still get a crystal-clear view down, but they'll just hear a distant revving, could be anything, and they won't be able to pick it out in the sky." He paused, looking up the bank. "You. Lad with a name. We doing this?"

Sally exchanged a glance with Liam. Suddenly, this felt very real. There was a risk of tipping off the Rooks, but there was also a risk they moved on in that time.

"Liam?" she called.

"We should really get a police drone unit," he answered. "Cleared to go high, notify any overpassing passenger jets. A professional surveillance model."

Bledd scoffed. "In about two hours, sure. You want to wait? I'm out of here in 50 minutes remember?"

"Expediency trumps procedure, I say," Sally tried. "Is there any chance we'll actually hit an overpassing jet?"

"At a few thousand feet?" Bledd scoffed. "You're joking right. They cruise at 30,000. We're miles away."

Sally watched Liam. He held up both hands, like he was done with it. Sally knew she should wait, but couldn't bear any more delay.

"Let's do it. Go high and don't linger. We don't want to spook them."

"There's nothing spooky about Mavis." Bledd grasped the control handset and the drone's rotors fired up. The noise was insistent and loud, like a mosquito right in Sally's ear. "Up and away."

The drone fired straight up. The sound receded. In seconds it was barely audible. Bledd focused on the screen. Sally stepped back onto the boat's main body and watched over his shoulder as the drone soared forward.

"About five minutes," Bledd said, quieter now, like they were actually creeping up on the Rooks in person. "Then we'll know."

32 THE BLACK GUTTER

The drone's down-facing camera showed a long, black ditch racing by below, along with snatches of the land either side. Every field was shorn now, no crops in February, and most bore the looping scars of plowing.

"We're on the Black Gutter now," Bledd muttered, slowing the drone. "Almost there."

Sally leaned in.

"There's the shepherd's cote," said Bledd, pointing as a rectangular slab of slate roofing passed by underneath, tucked against a bend in the drainage sewer. "And…"

The slow scroll of the landscape halted as the drone held still. Bledd pressed in closer to the screen. He zoomed the screen in, focusing on a small cluster of scraggly willows. Then he exhaled heavily.

"Little fuckers."

"What is it?"

"They're gone."

Sally's heart skittered. "Gone? You're sure?"

"They were here. No doubt. See that?"

He pointed. Sally looked but saw nothing, maybe a darker smear on the dark earth. "What am I looking at?"

"Open fire. Buggers the ecology right up. Plus all this around here?"

Sally squinted. There were tiny, pixel-sized dots on the earth around the stain. "Mushrooms?"

"Litter. Coke can there. Chocolate bar wrapper. I'm going to have to go in and clear that up."