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“Is there anything I can do to help?” She moved over to the table, which was just a board on top of boxes.
He handed her a stack of reports. “Need to know what day they were attacked.”
“Date or day of the week?”
“Both.”
“Got it.” The man didn’t mince words, did he? Well, that was okay. She could be quiet, too. She reached for a tablet and pen and went to work. By the time Ronan entered the tent, she and Wraith had found a pattern. Each of the convoys was attacked on a Tuesday. There was no trend as to going or coming back, nor was there any correlation with which of the three camps they used.
“What do you have?”
“You were right. It’s the day of the week,” Wraith said. “Tuesdays.”
Ronan nodded and touched his ear. “Dude.” He smiled. “Thanks for that information, but I just talked to him at the militia camp. All the convoys were hit on Tuesdays.”
She leaned over and whispered, “Is he talking to someone, or has he gone off the deep end?”
Wraith smiled. “He’s talking to our operator.”
“Like telephone operator?”
“Like computer systems,” Ronan said.
“Oh.” She narrowed her eyes. “I still can’t see a radio.”
“You’re not supposed to,” Wraith said.
“Huh.” Fleur stopped and looked at Wraith. “Why not?”
“Tactical advantage,” Ronan answered.
She frowned at Ronan. “I thought you were talking to the dude.”
“Just Dude,” Wraith replied.
“Okay.” She looked at Ronan. “Are you done?”
Ronan smiled. “For now. He’s doing some research.”
“On what?”
“On whom has access to satellite information on Tuesdays that would feed the militia the information on your convoys.”
Fleur frowned. Thinking about satellites wasn’t in her wheelhouse. She shrugged and suggested, “Maybe it’s only above us once a week?”
Wraith smiled, and Ronan chuckled. “Not the way it works. Depending on the orbit, satellites circle the Earth once every twelve hours.”
She frowned. “I didn’t know that. How will he find out which satellite was used?”
Ronan shrugged. “Something about narrowingdown what satellite was in the area during the time frame of the convoys and then searching out who had access. From there, it’s a matter of communications to personnel in this area.”
Fleur let her jaw drop open. “What? He has access to that information?”
Wraith put down his papers, tapped his ear, and said, “On my way.”
“Who was he talking to?”
“Stryker,” Ronan said, sitting in the chair Wraith had vacated. “Our operators have access to information most don’t.”