Meg nodded back to Jamison as the others asked their questions, eager to get the answers herself. 
The CIA handler pulled the van to a stop outside an unassuming house of the local style, shutting off the engine. 
"There's about ten personnel likely to be in the compound; it's a property belonging to the Order and used as a staging post for security patrols. It's less busy overnight, so moving at night would be in our advantage. The compound is walled with three gates; one sliding one large enough for vehicle access, and two person-sized ones; one at the front and one side gate which is where they tend to put out their refuse for collection. 
"One central structure. Lower story with an attached double-garage and six rooms on the ground floor, four on the upper floor. Staircase linking the two, with a roof access. No fixed weapon emplacements, but there is a sentry at the front gate, and a patrol checks the perimeter three times an hour, and there's a camera covering the side gate. There may be technicals or other vehicles in the garage or passing by; so be prepared for those. Personnel on site aren't likely to have much other than small arms for you to worry about either. Locally; there's usually a patrol around the village - The Order has enacted curfews across the country due to Resistance activities, from 11pm - 5am. But they're undermanned and they can't cover everywhere at once." 

"Sounds like that about covers it," Megan said with a nod. "I say we use stealth as much as possible to get in and out. Anyone gets in the way, we use necessary force to neutralise them and get Adebayo out of there. If there's a vehicle on site; we capture it and use it for extraction". 
Meg opened the door on her side and hopped out of the van, moving around to the back and starting to unload their gear, as Jamison rapped on the door to the safehouse. A couple of locals armed with AKs looked out, taking in the scene and nodding to them, and starting to help with bringing things in, as muted light spilled out of the door. 

The inside of the safehouse was spartan, but dry, warm, and clean. A main room served as kitchen and lounge both, and a handful of other smaller rooms adjoined with beds, bathroom and other sundries. A rug pulled aside in the main room concealed a rough basement that had a ladder leading down to the wood-panelled room holding comms equipment and a stash of other tactical gear, supplies, weapons and ammunition that their own stuff added to as it was passed down. 
The air of the safehouse was full of the smell of cooking and spices as a sturdy, solidly-built woman busied herself at the stove and ladled out portions of a stew into chipped porcelain bowls with chunks of local bread on the side.

"Eat, gear up, and let's get prepped for this op," Megan said to the rest, nodding in thanks as the woman passed her a bowl with a smile.