Charlie #2
“I want to see a badge,” she said, posturing with more courage than before.
“And I want the truth,” Wilson said. “Who else is inside this building?”
“No one, just the Butlers and their patient,” the woman said.
Wilson made eye contact with Rogers. “I doubt it.” Then his gaze returned to the woman. “This is very important,” he said to the woman. “Don’t scream or try to alert anyone. It won’t go well for you if you do.”
Her gaze left him and returned to the gun Rogers pointed at her. She nodded. Her hands still gripped the top of the desk.
“And just to be sure you don’t try anything,” Wilson said, coming up beside the woman as well.
“Slowly, please place your hands behind your back.” He helped her to comply with his request as she leaned forward in her seat, and he secured her hands in zip ties.
Then his hands patted down her torso. He’d conduct a more thorough search once they had her on her feet.
He found no weapons. “Moe and Handsome, enter with caution and take a look around,” Wilson ordered.
“Roger Taco,” Burke answered.
Burke turned the doorknob and opened the door slowly.
He drew his sidearm at the same time. He stepped into the dark space.
The shaft of light from the open door was the only light in the room.
Tessman closed the door behind himself after he entered, plunging them into darkness.
Tessman then illuminated a small tactical penlight flashlight.
He held it up beside his Sig P229, which was held at the ready, just as Burke’s Glock was.
They were in what appeared to be a large storeroom.
There were floor-to-ceiling shelves that overflowed with boxes, bags, and crates of all sizes.
Burke drew his own tactical flashlight and swept it over the entire room.
He stepped up to one of the shelves and scrutinized the labels on the items on the shelves.
Tessman did the same on another shelving unit.
“We’re inside. I’ve got several pumps and compressors over here, as well as cooking oil,” Tessman said in a whisper.
“And I’ve got MREs and ammo,” Burke said. “Their stock clerk doesn’t have this place organized very well. Requisition Ryan could teach them a thing or two.”
Tessman chuckled quietly. The two men approached the door.
They both turned off their flashlights. Tessman held his weapon at the high ready, aimed at the door as Burke took hold of the doorknob and slowly opened it.
In front of them was a well-lit hallway.
They followed it as it brought them about twenty feet and they passed several closed doors on both sides.
There were no windows on the doors, and the men didn’t open any of them to look inside; they did, however, stop and listen at each.
No sounds were heard behind any of the doors.
Investigating those areas would come in phase two of their search.
As Burke continued forward, Tessman walked with his aim facing the rear, covering their six.
Burke came to where the hallway spilled out onto the warehouse floor.
The white SUV sat directly in front of him.
To his right, he saw the curtains that enclosed the medical treatment area, which were partially open, and the bright overhead lights within that spotlighted Tom and Valerie Butler tending to the patient on the exam table.
The slow beeps of the EKG were the only sounds that were heard. At least the man was alive.
Burke pulled his head back, unseen by the two, and then he once again used the flex-neck camera to give them a view of the area.
This time, Burke held Tessman’s cell phone to view the feed as Tessman still covered their six.
“Got eyes on the targets and am unable to advance without exposing ourselves,” Burke whispered.
“Looks like we need to help search the entire building with the rest of the team,” Wilson said.
The woman’s eyes went wide. “That’s right, we’ve already got a team inside, and they’ll kill anyone who confronts them.
So let me ask you again, besides the Butlers and the unconscious man, who else is in this building? ”
“I swear,” the woman stammered, “no, no one.”
“Bring us to the Butlers.” Wilson prompted her to stand, helping by pulling her up with a grip on her upper arm. He pulled her a few steps away from the desk. “I’m just going to search you for weapons. Do you have any on you?”
“No,” she said in an outraged tone of voice.
“Any knives or needles?”
“No,” she repeated in the same tone of voice.
Wilson conducted a thorough search. Nothing was found. “Are either of the Butlers known to carry weapons?”
“What? Are you crazy?” the woman demanded. “They’re doctors, for God’s sake! No, they don’t carry weapons.”
Neither Wilson nor Rogers reacted to her statement. Rogers pointed at the door at the back of the small office. “Does this lead back to the treatment room?”
“Yes,” the woman said.
“Why are there treatment rooms here, anyway?” Wilson asked.
“This is a clinic for those who don’t feel comfortable going into traditional treatment facilities where they ask questions that many of our patients can’t answer.”
Wilson laughed. “Yeah, like why they’re unconscious on a plane.” He nodded toward the door. “Move.”