Dixon nodded in greeting. "Drones," he said, "not aerial. We didn’t make them. Kathy sends you her best." He went to the Fiat, unlatched the front end of the box’s lid, and raised it on twin aluminum tubes, clicking them upright. She saw glossy black bundles, against the dull black plastic of the lid. He looked back at her. "Time’s tight," he said. "Anything you have in the van, we need it out now."