Chapter Eight
Bryn awoke to the sound of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. He squinted at the screen. Four-thirty. Fuck. The caller ID flashed Gunnar.
“Yeah?” Bryn’s throat was dry, making his voice rough.
“Get dressed. We’ve got to go.”
“What? Wait, why are you calling me? Aren’t you here?” Gunnar had said he’d spend the night on the couch in the suite’s sitting area and Bryn had slept better because of it.
“I’m on my way back up there from a briefing with the security team.”
“Did something happen?”
“No. It was a quiet night. I was letting them know what’s going down. They’ll be going back to HQ. We’re taking one of their armored vehicles and I have a vest for you.”
“Okay…” Bryn shook off his grogginess. “So what is going on? Where are we going and do I get breakfast first?”
“The IT guys got into the USB. There’s another Thanacrine manufacturing site in the city and Boston PD’s going to raid it. Warden got us an invite to the party.”
“Oh goody.” Bryn’s exhaustion from the day before was an unwelcome companion. His head still throbbed a bit, a lingering effect from so many fast reads, but this wasn’t something he could sit out. “Mira’s information paid off faster than I expected. I hope she’s okay.”
“Yeah, me too. I’m here. You decent?”
“Does it matter?”
The bedroom door opened and Gunnar appeared, grinning. “Nope. Nice shorts.”
Bryn tossed his cell onto the bed. “Perv.” He fished in his bag for clean clothes, happy not to have to wear a suit.
“We need to get to some industrial area in the south of the city. It’s the third location on the drive.”
Bryn pulled on jeans and a long-sleeved black tee. “How many are there in total?”
“Twelve.”
“Jesus!”
“Yeah. Not great.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Cops are going in at six-thirty. Warden wants us there to identify and question anyone who might be connected to the clinic.”
“Okay. What about Mira? Any word?”
“Warden had her apartment checked out and she’s gone. Smart woman.”
“Good. I don’t want her ending up as collateral damage.”
“Emmett will sort the hotel check-out and I’ve asked one of the security guys to find us some breakfast.”
“So long as it comes with coffee.” Bryn grabbed his boots then followed Gunnar into the lounge area. Giles stepped out of his adjoining room, already dressed in another new suit. He eyed Bryn with unconcealed amusement.
“I assume our morning plans have changed?” Giles asked. “Do you own any jeans without holes in them?”
“No.” Bryn hoped the unsaid ‘fuck off’ was loud and clear.
“PD’s hitting a site linked to the clinic,” Gunnar said.
Giles nodded. “Then don’t let’s keep them waiting.”
Bryn knelt to lace his boots, his fingers working automatically while his mind raced. Twelve manufacturing sites. This has gone way beyond experimental medicine and into mass production. “You think we’ll find anything?” Bryn asked, glancing up at Gunnar.
“If The Hammer’s involved, they’ll have cleared out already.” Gunnar checked his weapon before sliding it into his holster. “He’s bound to have his claws into some dirty cops but we might catch some stragglers.”
“Or evidence they couldn’t move in time,” Giles added, adjusting his cufflinks. “Even the most meticulous operations leave traces.”
Bryn remembered what he’d seen in Ty Brunt’s mind.
The unconscious, or maybe dead, men on gurneys, the blood, the furnace.
His stomach churned. “I’m still not completely back to normal,” he admitted.
“Those reads at the clinic took more out of me than usual. They were close together and it was a pressured situation.”
“Then we’ll control what you have to do,” Gunnar said, frowning.
Giles nodded. “We have other resources and methods of extracting information.”
Bryn eyed him. “You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?” Giles remained inscrutable but Bryn detected a glint in his eye.
“Speaking of resources,” Gunnar interrupted, tossing a bulletproof vest at Bryn. “Put this on.”
Bryn caught it. “Are we expecting trouble?”
“Always where Russo’s involved.” Gunnar handed another vest to Giles, who accepted it with a slight nod. “And after what you saw in Brunt’s mind…”
“Point taken.” Bryn slipped the vest on over his shirt, adjusting the straps.
“The armored vehicle’s downstairs,” Gunnar continued, checking his phone. “Boston PD sent the coordinates. We’ve got forty minutes to get there for a briefing before the raid starts.”
“Let’s hope traffic’s light.”
In the pre-dawn, the hallway was deserted as they made their way to the elevator. When the doors slid open to the underground parking garage, a black SUV with tinted windows waited near the exit, engine running.
“Huh, I was expecting something more…chunky,” Bryn said.
“The glass and body shell are armored,” Gunnar said. “Were you picturing a tank?”
Two members of the GCR’s security team stood beside the vehicle, nodding in recognition as they approached.
“All quiet still, sir,” one reported to Gunnar. “No suspicious activity.”
“Good. We’ll take it from here.”
Gunnar slid into the driver’s seat, Bryn taking shotgun while Giles settled in the back.
“Food?” Bryn asked hopefully as they pulled out of the garage.
Gunnar pointed to a paper bag on the console between them. “Breakfast sandwiches, from the smell. And there’s coffee in the cup holders.”
“You’re a saint.” Bryn grabbed the coffee first, the cup’s warmth seeping into his cold fingers.
“Security guys always know where to get their hands on decent food and coffee. It’s on the qualification requirements for the job.”
“I appreciate their expertise.”
As they navigated through empty streets, the city still mostly asleep, Bryn couldn’t shake a growing sense of unease.
Whatever they found at this site would change things.
The evidence on Mira’s drive, combined with his reads at the clinic, painted a picture of corruption and cruelty that went deeper than they’d imagined.
“You’re quiet,” Gunnar observed, glancing over.
Bryn took another sip of coffee. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
“About what Russo’s planning.”
“We’ll find out one way or another,” Giles said from the back seat.
Bryn delved in the bag of food. “You want anything?” he asked Giles.
“Coffee is fine for me.”
“Gunnar?”
“I ate already.”
Bryn grabbed a still-warm sandwich. “Oh, yum.”
“Heathen.”
“Can it, Giles. A sausage patty, egg and cheese…food of the gods, and these hash browns are gourmet.”
Gunnar’s cell rang and he answered through the car’s speaker system. “Ericson here.”
“It’s Warden. There’s been a development.” Warden’s calm, controlled voice filled the vehicle. “Boston PD did a preliminary reconnaissance. The site is active. They’ve detected thermal signatures indicating at least two dozen people inside.”
“At this hour?” Bryn leaned forward. “That’s not normal shift work.”
“Exactly.”
“We’re fifteen minutes out,” Gunnar replied.
“Make it ten,” Warden ordered. “I don’t think this can wait until six-thirty.”
The call ended and Gunnar accelerated.
“So much for a leisurely breakfast,” Bryn muttered, stuffing half a sandwich into his mouth.
“Eat fast,” Gunnar advised. “I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need all the energy we can get.”
The industrial district loomed ahead, a patchwork of warehouses and manufacturing plants.
“There—” Gunnar pointed. “Northeast corner.”
Bryn swallowed the last of his sandwich, crumpling the wrapper. “Doesn’t look like much.” It was a nondescript concrete building with security lights illuminating its perimeter.
“That’s the point,” Giles remarked from the backseat. “Anonymity is essential for operations like this.”
Police vehicles were gathered a block away, positioned out of the line of sight of any cameras to avoid detection. Gunnar pulled alongside them then cut the engine.
“Showtime,” he said. “Ike Reynolds is in charge of the op. I know him. Good man.”
Captain Reynolds met them as they exited the SUV, his expression grim. He shook Gunnar’s hand before acknowledging Bryn and Giles with a curt nod.
“Glad you made it,” Reynolds said. “Things have gotten weird. Thermal imaging initially showed twenty-seven distinct heat signatures inside. Most concentrated in what appears to be the main production floor, with a few scattered in what we believe are office spaces.”
“Movement patterns?” Gunnar asked.
“That’s the strange part. They aren’t moving. We thought maybe the heat was from machines at first, but the signatures are definitely human. We also detected unusual power consumption. Whatever they’re doing in there, its drawing serious electricity.”
“What’s the entry plan?” Giles asked.
Reynolds led them to the hood of his car where a schematic was spread out.
“The building has four access points—main entrance here, loading dock on the east side, fire exit on the west, and what appears to be a staff entrance in the back.” He jabbed his finger at each location. “We’ll hit all four simultaneously.”
“Any intel on armed personnel?” Gunnar asked.
“Can’t confirm, but we’re proceeding as if they’re hostile.”
“Russo doesn’t hire rent-a-cops,” Gunnar pointed out. “If there’s security, they’ll be professional. Ex-military, most likely.”
Reynolds eyed him. “My people know what they’re walking into.”
Bryn studied the schematic, visualizing the layout. “Any basement levels?”
“None that we can detect, but the building plans filed with the city are twenty years old. Plenty of time for unauthorized modifications.”
“Where do you want us positioned?” Gunnar asked.
“Stay with me in the primary strike team,” Reynolds replied. “I need your eyes on whatever we find in there.”
A tactical officer approached, radio in hand. “Sir, perimeter teams are in position. SWAT is ready on your mark.”
Reynolds checked his watch. “We move in five. Get your people in position.”
As the officer hurried away, Reynolds turned back to them. “Last chance to back out. Once this starts, it’s going to move fast.”
“We’re in,” Gunnar confirmed without hesitation.
“Good.”