THIRTEEN
In the Dark
I ambled along the edge of the compound's grounds, about fifty feet in from the wall, scoping out the place while trying to look like I
wasn't
scoping out the place. During my first week I'd spent nearly all my time around my new home. I didn't want to arrive and then immediately start prowling the grounds, afraid that'd attract the type of attention I didn't want. I smiled to myself. It would have been hard to find the time anyway, as it seemed like my cock was always in somebody's pussy... not that I was complaining. After a couple of weeks, the new had worn off me, and our fucking had slowed to something approaching normal, once in the morning and then again at night, not four or five times a day like we'd been going when I'd first arrived.
What I'd learned during my meandering amble was that Voice's compound was a fucking fortress, and I didn't mean that it was a fortress for fucking. The eight-foot-tall stucco wall that surrounded the grounds was topped with a brick similar to that which formed the patios and drives, rather than razor wire, but that didn't make it any less secure.
First, someone would have to scale an eight-foot wall. Because of the smooth stucco finish, that would require a ladder or some other tool. Before any would-be thug could possibly make it over the wall, security would know because, every hundred feet or so, there was a heavy, square, reinforcing post in the same style. On top of each of those posts were four small, inconspicuous cameras. Two were looking outward along the wall, with two more looking inward. I could tell from the angle that the outward facing cameras almost certainly had overlapped fields of view, so taking out a single camera, or even both cameras on a single post, wouldn't create a blind spot.
The cameras pointing inward didn't watch the wall, but had their unwavering gaze turned across the grounds. Those cameras certainly had blind spots, especially close to the wall, but there was no way to reach that area without being seen, as there was at least a hundred feet of well-maintained grass inside the wall, unobscured by bushes or trees.
Not only did the walls have cameras, but all the buildings, trellises, fountains, and other structures bristled with them as well. It appeared all the cameras were small, fixed mount units, and most were reasonably unobtrusive, but as I wandered around the grounds, I was certain I was always in view of at least one camera. I might be able to avoid being seen if I ducked into one of the dense planting areas, but I'd certainly be seen going in and coming out again.
Voice's compound was huge, easily five acres but probably more, comprised of large swaths of meandering grass between large, knee high, stone walled, raised planting areas. Well-maintained paths snaked through the lush, dense plantings, and there was usually a fountain, trellis, or some other garden feature tucked somewhere inside. It had rained earlier this morning, and when I'd started my walkabout, the plants had sparkled in the sunshine as if they'd been dusted with diamonds. I suspected that Voice's compound would rival any tropical botanical garden anyone would care to name.
Including those in our house, during my slow explore, I'd counted 108 cameras, not including those in the mansion or on the walls I couldn't see. Because there were so many cameras, and some of them were well integrated into their structures, I wasn't even sure I'd seen and counted all the ones in the areas I could reach. The last thing I wanted was to look like I was trying to locate all the cameras.
With so many cameras it was impossible to watch all of them all the time, but I'd bet my ass that any dozen or so cameras could be displayed at once, and I'd also bet my ass that any motion within a camera's field of view would trigger the display of that camera, and I'd further bet my ass that all of the cameras were being recorded for later review if necessary.
I hadn't thought to look the only time I'd been in the main house, but I'd seen the camera at the front door, plus those in the padded room, and considering the fact that every room in our house had at least one camera in it, it was probably safe to assume there were cameras inside Voice's villa as well. In short, in less than three hours, I'd completely given up on the half-baked idea of somehow sneaking into Voice's house and absconding with damning evidence.
I paused to watch a hummingbird dance around a flowering plant. Because of all the beautiful, but obscuring landscaping, it was impossible to monitor large areas with a single camera, and considering the number I'd counted on the grounds, I didn't think it was unreasonable to assume there were likely something around two hundred cameras silently recording everything that happened over the entire estate. There was paranoia, then there was
paranoia,
and Voice was obviously the latter. He clearly didn't trust anyone, even among those he allowed in his midst.
After the brightly colored bird flitted away with a bee like buzz, I resumed my casual stroll. I'd already circled the grounds once, but I didn't want to make a tour of all the cameras and then immediately go inside. I needed to start getting the eyes in the sky, and the guards, comfortable with seeing me out sauntering around, so if I decided to do something, my presence on the grounds wouldn't immediately warrant suspicion. As I approached the main house, a man stepped out, lit a cigarette, and wandered to the edge of the fenced pool area.
"What are you carrying?" I called as I continued my slow approach.
"What?" he called back.
I slowed and mimed bringing a rifle to my shoulder. "What are you carrying? I saw one a couple of weeks ago and it looked like some kind of modified HK G36."
The man held my gaze a moment and then shook his head. "Not an HK."
"Okay... what is it?"
He took another drag before blowing the smoke upwards. "A FX-05 Xiuhcoatl... military issue."
I'd had some arms training while at TTS, and I recognized the name as being the carbine issued by the Mexican military, but I'd never seen one in person. "I've heard of it but never seen one. Mind if I have a look?"
The man stared at me as he leaned on the rail, the smoke gently curling up from the smoldering cigarette between his fingers. "You're not supposed to come to the main house."
"Are you allowed to come out here?" I asked. "I just want to take a quick look. Unload it first if you're worried about me." The man held my gaze for a moment. "Come on," I said, my voice full of teasing encouragement. "I promise not to shoot anyone," I added with a broad smile.
The man took another puff before tossing his cigarette to the patio, rubbed it out with his foot, and then picked up the remains and put it in his coat pocket. He then scrubbed the area with his shoe before he started toward the gate. I moved in the same direction but didn't approach any closer to the house. He trotted down the three steps as he dropped the magazine. That went into his coat pocket opposite the cigarette butt. He stopped, cleared the chamber, picked up the bullet, and dropped the round into the pocket with the magazine as he restarted his approach.
"You know anything about guns?" he asked.
"A little. It's a five-five-six by DGIM, right?" I asked, using a shorthand for a weapon built by Dirección General de Industria Militar del Ejército, that fired the 5.56 NATO round.
