Mike
W ilson remembered that he had to report back to Shepherd that he’d talked to Rae right before the Gustavo takedown. He’d not had the opportunity until he and Lambchop left the house the DEA was using as their onsite HQ. “I have to call Shepherd back,” Wilson said. “I almost forgot.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. Even though he doubted Lambchop knew anything about it, he had no problem making the call in front of him.
They’d left Gustavo with Espinoza.
The Shepherd Security Team was on standby. Espinoza expected they’d conduct the major takedown within the next few hours. Gustavo swore up and down he did not know the delivery schedule to the warehouse, had no clue if any product was even there. At least he didn’t deny knowledge of it. Lambchop volunteered the team to do recon at that location before warrants were obtained. Busting an empty warehouse was not on anyone’s to do list.
After talking with Shepherd and giving him the report, which was basically that Rae talking with the children yielded no useful information, he put his phone on speaker and he and Lambchop filled Shepherd in on the current status of the DEA Partner Mission.
“Can we get the Digital Team to pull schematics on that warehouse?” Lambchop asked.
“Consider it done. Okay, keep me informed, Lambchop,” Shepherd said. “If the team does recon on that warehouse, have Ops online with you.”
“Will do, Shep,” Lambchop said.
After they disconnected the call, Lambchop fixed Wilson with a questioning stare. “Rae Ella Easton?”
Wilson laughed. “Yeah, that’s basically the look Garcia gave me, too. It hasn’t been easy for her, relocating and taking the new identity from the Marshals. I never considered how lonely it would be for a person. I’ve been a friend. That’s it. She’s had a rough life and is a good person despite it.”
A smile spread over Lambchop’s face. “You’re quite insistent that you’re just a friend.”
“You know, I never thought about what the relationship was until she threw out the word friends. It really fucked with my head until I decided I didn’t have to categorize what the relationship is. I like talking with her and being there for her,” he said honestly. “I like that she knows she can confide in me things she can’t tell anyone else in her new life. I care about her and am her biggest cheerleader to make her new life a success. I’m not having sex with her and would never take advantage of her or the trust she has in me. If I’m not a friend, I’m not sure what that makes me.”
“A good person,” Lambchop said. “And yes, anytime someone leaves their old life behind and takes a new identity, it’s hard, lonely, scary, brings a wide range of emotions.”
“She said she has this feeling of waiting for the other shoe to fall, for someone to call her out that she doesn’t belong in the life she’s living now. It has to be like walking around on eggshells, not a feeling I can even imagine,” Wilson said. “But at the same time, I see this incredible strength and determination in her that I respect. And this thing with the little girl and worrying about her as she is.” He paused and chuckled. “I could see her stepping in front of a gunman and taking a bullet to protect this kid.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Lambchop said. “You need to caution her to leave finding this kid to the Marshals. What do they think happened to the mom and kid?”
“Shepherd hasn’t said. But I figure it’s one of two things. Either the mom is back to her old ways or they’re in trouble, or they were found by whoever the Marshals had her in hiding away from. Either way, it doesn’t look good for either one of them. If the mom is back up to old tricks, they’ll find her eventually and she’ll go to jail, leaving the little girl with no mom. She’ll most likely be thrown into the system.”
“That’s rough,” Lambchop agreed. “As Michaela and I prepare for the arrival of our own little girl, I can’t imagine ever putting my kid into any situation that could potentially hurt her. I don’t know how any parent can. She isn’t even born yet, but every fiber of who I am is programmed to protect her from everything, every minute of every day.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s how all good parents are wired,” Wilson said. “Hell, Hahna isn’t even biologically theirs and that’s how Cooper and Madison feel. The problem is I can’t tell Rae this woman was a Marshals’ protectee like her. Well, not exactly like her. And I don’t want to lie to Rae and tell her all is okay with this kid when I don’t know it is, like Garcia thinks I should. So, I’m not sure how I can tell her to leave finding this kid to the experts.”
“From what you’ve said, she won’t. If she happens to see the kid, or someone she thinks is the kid, she’s going to check it out,” Lambchop said. “You need to tell her enough of the potential danger that just maybe she’ll call you or, in the very least, she’ll be careful poking around.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right. She’s not going to stop asking questions and I can totally see her following someone she thinks is the kid or her mom.”
“Give her the bare minimum to convey the possible danger and leave it at that,” Lambchop instructed. “Give her a call now, if you need to. I need you focused on this mission when Espinoza contacts us with the go order.”
Wilson chuckled. “You think I’m not focused? I’m wounded.”
“You’ve never not been focused. Then again, I’ve never known you to have an ongoing relationship with a woman. It can take time to figure out how to keep it all compartmentalized.”
“Compartmentalized?” Wilson asked.
“There’s a reason most can’t do this job and have a family. You can’t do it if you can’t compartmentalize. No matter how much I love Michaela and my life with her, I have to be able to completely tuck away every thought regarding her while I’m working.”
“To be focused,” Wilson commented.
“Yes,” Lambchop confirmed. “There’s no room for any distraction.”
Wilson knew that. “Rae’s not a distraction. My thoughts won’t be on her when we get the go order.”
Lambchop nodded. “I text messaged Mother while we were with Espinoza. He should have the rest of the team up to date and in the holding pattern with us,” Lambchop said, changing topics. “I’m sure Espinoza will want us to recon that warehouse. His team can’t legally go in without a warrant and he’s not going to want to go in and let the bad guys know we know about that location if it isn’t full of product.”
“If it’s empty, do you think Espinoza will want to wait until there’s a delivery to move on the network?”
“I hope not,” Lambchop said. “With Gustavo going MIA, they’re going to get real paranoid and are bound to change things up.”
“Yeah, and we’re ready to move on them as they are now,” Wilson agreed. “I’ve already executed the takedown of stash house number one in my mind from several different angles.”
“I’m sorry I suggested you were distracted,” Lambchop said with a chuckle.
Wilson chuckled with him.
***
Just before sundown, Espinoza got in touch with the Shepherd Security Team with the formal request to recon the warehouse. The Digital Team had gotten back to them over an hour earlier with the schematics of the warehouse. All six team members were at the hotel, awake, had studied the schematics and planned their approach to breaching the warehouse to search for product. One of Espinoza’s men had relieved Jackson from surveilling stash house number one an hour earlier. That was when they knew the request for them to enter that warehouse would be coming.
As Shepherd had requested, Lambchop contacted Ops to be on with them when they moved on the warehouse. Garcia and Caleb ‘Hound dog’ Smith were on in Ops, with Garcia running primary for their mission. The team arrived on site after the darkness of night settled on the city. One of the two vehicles they drove approached from the north, the other the south. The warehouse sat on a corner lit by a single streetlight. It had a small parking lot that lay to the east. Sharing the same driveway but veering west towards the back, the drive led to the three loading docks.
The dirty concrete warehouse had seen better days. Wilson was sure at least one of the windows was broken, but with the lack of light on most of the structure, it was hard to tell. One thing that was easily identifiable was that the place had no vehicles on its grounds and there were no discernible lights coming from the interior. It appeared dark and lifeless.
As previously planned, both vehicles drove past the warehouse, crossing paths with each other.
“Before we enter, a quick prayer,” Lambchop broadcast through comms. “Father God, keep this team safe this evening. Let this structure be as vacant as it appears. Let no innocent bystanders wander into our operation. And if it is your will, God, have a large cache of illegal drugs be waiting for us to find. Amen.”
Wilson and the two others in the car with him chuckled at Lambchop’s last sentence before joining in an, “Amen.”
“Go, go, go,” Lambchop then said to proclaim the Op underway.
The vehicle heading north was driven by Jackson. Wilson and Mother rode with him. Jackson pulled up alongside the road just past the building from which the loading docks could be seen. Wilson and Mother slipped out of the car and ran at a crouch towards the warehouse. On the other side of the building, Sloan, driving the other car, did the same. Lambchop and Sherman got out of that car and approached the front door to the warehouse.
Both drivers then drove around the block and parked their vehicles. Jackson parked in the full parking lot of a factory that was running a second shift. Thankfully there were few lights in the parking lot, and he was able to park up against a dark line of bushes. Sloan parked on the street alongside a twelve-foot-high chain-link fence. Then they both made their way towards the target warehouse.
Wilson and Mother made it to the back of the warehouse and the first raised loading dock. The garage door was rolled down but there were gaps between it and the wall which allowed the men to easily slip inside. “We’re in,” Wilson broadcast. “Door number one.” He glanced around the interior which was very dimly lit with emergency lighting. He could see well enough that he didn’t need to don his night vision goggles. Glancing to his right, towards dock doors number two and three, he was surprised to see a solid cement wall. That hadn’t been on the architectural drawings for this warehouse.
At the front of the building, Lambchop and Sherman had a harder time gaining entry. The door was sturdy and locked. The window beside it though was not. Lambchop forced the window open. Sherman climbed in and then unlocked and opened the door for Lambchop. The front room was an office, equally filthy as the outside of the building with no working lights, just the low voltage emergency lighting on the ceiling above the door that should lead into the warehouse per the diagrams.
“We’re in, too,” Lambchop answered. “Going to make access into the warehouse now.”
“Be advised, Lambchop, the building has been altered. There’s now a solid wall between bays one and two,” Mother broadcast.
“Let’s see what else has been altered,” Lambchop said. “Going to enter the warehouse now.”
“Hold up,” Wilson transmitted. “Let us scope out the interior first. There are windows on the doors in this bay looking into the warehouse.”
“Roger that, Taco,” Lambchop replied.
Wilson and Mother crept soundlessly against the wall. In the far-right corner was a large double door with windows. Wilson carefully peeked through the window to ensure the space in front of it was vacant. It was clear from his vantage point, but he didn’t have a full view of the entire interior of the warehouse space.
Wilson pushed the door open, Mother covering him. Wilson stepped into the open space, his back against the swinging door. Mother, in a low crouched position, came out into the warehouse, his aim behind Wilson. Clear. The two men circled, back-to-back, until they had scrutinized every shadow in the large open area.
“Clear,” Mother broadcast. The two men closed the door and pressed themselves to the wall that led towards docking bays two and three.
Lambchop opened the door that should lead to the warehouse floor. It squeaked and moaned loudly as it moved, echoing through the entire warehouse. Seconds later, the door to loading dock bay number three swung open, spilling light into the warehouse and infusing the area with low Latin music. Instinctively, Wilson and Mother flattened their backs against the wall. Both men also tapped the mic on their comms with a finger. They were close enough to the Tango they didn’t dear speak, but the tap would transmit a sound that would warn Lambchop and the Birdman to hold position.
A man stepped into the open warehouse. A shaft of light from behind him like a spotlight, illuminated him. Held by his side a metal barrel that pointed downward reflected the light. A question immediately came to both Wilson and Mother. Was he alone? They’d find out quickly. Wilson motioned to Mother. He’d take the man; Mother was to cover the room the man had come from. Mother nodded.
The man’s gaze was directed towards the front office as though he knew the sound had come from that door. His feet carried him a few more steps further into the warehouse. Wilson and Mother moved on him. They rushed towards the open door soundlessly, remaining in the shadows near the wall until the last second.
Then suddenly, as Mother dropped to a knee and circled himself around, so his gaze and his weapon was trained on the lit-up room, Wilson advanced on the man, overtaking him without being seen. In one motion, Wilson pushed the man from his feet and out of the light that spilled from the room, knocked his loosely held weapon from him, and jammed the barrel of his Sig P226 up against the back of the man’s neck.
“You move, you’re a dead man,” Wilson whispered to the man. “Don’t make a sound, don’t even breathe.”
The man’s rigid form didn’t move.
“Clear, Lambchop,” Wilson broadcast in a barely audible voice, just in case someone Mother hadn’t identified yet was inside that room. He glanced over his shoulder at Mother, who held his position, his gaze still into the room.
“Heading your way now,” Lambchop replied. Then he and the Birdman carefully made their way towards Wilson and Mother’s location.
Wilson watched the two men approach through the darkness.
“The Undertaker and I have just entered through the front,” Jackson’s voice came through comms.
“Hold position,” Lambchop ordered in a quiet voice, quiet enough that he wouldn’t be heard by anyone within the room the Tango on the floor came from.
Mother had not proclaimed if the room was vacant. That made Wilson assume it was not. And Mother still hadn’t moved. When Lambchop and Sherman reached Wilson, Lambchop immediately zip tied the Tango’s hands behind his back as Sherman pressed tape to his lips. Lambchop then secured his ankles in zip ties as well before Wilson dragged the man several feet further into the darkness of the warehouse.
The three men crept up on the open doorway by circling far into the warehouse, into the dark shadows to not be seen by whoever may be inside. As soon as they were beside Mother, with their backs to the wall, he pivoted so he no longer gazed into the room, but he remained on a knee. He motioned to the others that he saw three men within the room, and he pointed out the general vicinity of each.
“One Tango neutralized, three more in the room,” Lambchop broadcast, his voice a whisper. He was confident the low playing music in the room would keep the three men inside from hearing him. “Undertaker and Jax, proceed to the back of loading dock three.”
“Roger, Lambchop,” Sloan replied. “We’ll let you know when we’re in position.”
All four of the men knew that those in the room would soon miss their buddy who was secured, face down on the warehouse floor. The seconds ticked by as they waited for Sloan and Jackson to get to the back of the building. Finally, Jackson broadcast that the two men were in position. The garage door, however, was secure, with no gaps that would allow entry as loading dock number one.
Lambchop motioned to the men beside him. They lined up on Mother, who still kneeled beside the door. “Three, two, one, go!” Lambchop counted down in a barely audible volume.
On the go order, Mother pivoted again, so he swung in front of the open doorway, the barrel of his M4 penetrating the room. Lambchop rushed past him, going straight into the room. Wilson, behind Lambchop, entered and rotated to the right. Behind him, Sherman made entry and veered to the left.
The view in front of Wilson when he’d gone right was an expansive room stretching out into the bay of loading dock two. So, there was no wall between bays two and three. Rows of tables were set up. Sitting atop the tables were stacks of boxes, rolls of plastic wrap, and containers with the unmistakable blocks of raw drugs. On one table a box full of a white substance, that would later test positive as cocaine, was in the process of being processed into baggie sized containers by a lone man standing with his back to Wilson. The row of tables behind him had an open trash bag full of dried cannabis buds.
Wilson approached the subject quickly and quietly, his P226 in his grasp. He knew it was only a matter of seconds before their presence would be seen by one of the three men, and the alarm raised. Wilson was nearly to the man when on the far left of the room shouts and curses caused the man Wilson approached to swing his head in that direction. He must have seen Lambchop or Sherman as he reached for his handgun, which lay on the table within his reach.
Wilson moved to intercept the man before he got to his handgun. With his left hand, Wilson reached out and struck the man’s hand, pushing it away from the gun just as his hand made contact with it. This sent the weapon flying. It clattered to the floor. Wilson then used his body, slamming his right side into the Tango. This knocked him off balance, and he crashed into the table. Wilson heard the unmistakable sounds of his teammates engaging the other Tangos, but he kept his focus on the man in front of him, his Tango.
His Tango, after pulling himself off the table, turned his fists to Wilson. But Wilson had already stepped back far enough to be out of reach, his weapon trained on the man. “Uh-huh, get ‘em up,” Wilson ordered.
The Tango didn’t believe he’d shoot. He swung and took a step towards Wilson. Wilson bobbed right, out of the trajectory of the punch. Wilson immediately buried his fisted left hand in the man’s groin. He wasn’t going to fuck around with this guy. The man squealed and instantly went down. Wilson dropped on the man, one knee down hard in the middle of the man’s back. Only then did he scan the room to see that both Sherman and Lambchop had or were in the process of getting their men subdued.
“Jax, Undertaker, come in and clear the remainder of the warehouse,” Lambchop transmitted. “Ops, please notify DEA command that we can confirm drugs at the target location.”
“Roger that, Lambchop,” Sloan’s voice came through comms.
“Making that report now,” Garcia’s voice came through a second later.
Wilson pulled a zip tie from his vest and then grabbed his Tango’s wrists, securing them behind his back. The man had slightly recovered from the crotch blow and was now vocally throwing out curses and threats in what Wilson was sure was an octave or two higher than his normal voice. Wilson ignored him. He then secured the man’s ankles.
Wilson glanced over the product on the many tables in the room. There was a shit-ton of illegal drugs in all stages of preparation for sale, cocaine, methamphetamine, fentanyl, and even marijuana. Then he walked towards the center of the room where Lambchop had another man already secured. Beyond him, Mother and Sherman had just completed restraining the mountain of a man who wasn’t giving up too easily.
Leaving the Tangos where they were, Lambchop and Mother went back out into the warehouse and they dragged the previously restrained man inside, laying him beside his amigos. Sherman and Wilson began photographing the tables to document the scene. As expected, just a few minutes later, Lambchop was contacted by phone by Espinoza. Lambchop relayed to him the contents of the warehouse. He also sent photos to Espinoza.
“Okay, Mirandize them and let them know they’re under arrest by the DEA,” Espinoza said. He of course already knew that both Jackson and Wilson carried DEA badges. “I’ll get the warrant for that location now. Don’t question them until I notify you I have it, should only take a few minutes.”
“Affirmative,” Lambchop replied. Then he nodded to Wilson. “Mirandize them.”
“Gladly,” Wilson said. He went in front of the four of them. “Do you all speak English?” No one answered. “No matter.” He pulled his DEA badge and chain from inside his bulletproof vest and stuck it in each of their faces. “DEA, assholes. You’re under arrest for possession of narcotics with the intent to distribute and sell.” He then read them their Miranda rights.
When he finished, he motioned to Mother. Mother, a fluent Spanish speaker, then repeated the entire statement in Spanish. Shortly after, Jackson and Sloan entered the room. The rest of the warehouse was empty. Lambchop stationed them at the front door. Espinoza and his crew were running operations at stash house number one and two and a third location they’d identified. After they’d successfully secured all three locations, Espinoza then had the local police pick up a dozen street dealers. At the end of the day, three dozen people were in custody, including the four men the Shepherd Security Team had in custody at the warehouse.
The team wasn’t relieved until after twenty-two hundred. By the time they gave statements and left the scene, it was nearly midnight. They were hungry and tired. The agency Learjet wouldn’t get them until midmorning. They found an all-night diner even though a good steakhouse would have been preferred.
Seated at a table for eight in the middle of the barely occupied diner, the team ordered breakfast, which was available twenty-four hours a day. After, they returned to the hotel and sacked out. Wilson awoke to an empty room. Jackson’s bed was empty. He found him in the lobby when he went to get coffee. Jackson was seated in the lobby, on the phone with Angel, sipping coffee. A half-eaten bagel was in front of him. It was zero seven hundred. The free breakfast would be open a few more hours.
After getting a cup of coffee and a muffin, Wilson wandered over by Jackson, who was just wrapping his call up. “Anyone else up?”
“Yeah, Mother and Lambchop went for a run about forty-five minutes ago. Haven’t seen Sloan or Sherman.”
Had he gotten up earlier, Wilson would have joined them on the run. “The Lear is confirmed for ten hundred,” he remarked. “I have time to catch a workout. The gym looked decent.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Jackson asked with a chuckle.
Wilson smiled. “Yeah, anyway, is all good at home?”
“Yes. Angel has some time to make up at work. She’s going in for a half-day today.”
Wilson had forgotten it was Saturday. He often relied on his watch to tell him what day it was as there was no such thing as a normal work week. “Looks like we’ll be off tomorrow. I’m on the next CIA Referral case tentatively scheduled to deploy on Monday. You?”
“I’m scheduled to be in the office for the next week,” Jackson said. Wilson knew that he was pretty much on an every other week mission deployment schedule to give him time at home. “I’m off tomorrow to have time with the fam.”
Wilson nodded. “That’s good. It has to be hard.”
Jackson shrugged. “It is what it is. I appreciate Shepherd has adjusted things, but hadn’t he been able to, or when he can’t, I’m still home more than I would be in a regular active-duty deployable unit.”
“I guess that’s one way to look at it. Yeah, there’s no six months or longer deployments in this unit.”
Lambchop and Mother came in through the front door. Both men looked like they’d had a good run. They grabbed beverages and then joined Wilson and Jackson. “I spoke with Shepherd this morning,” Lambchop said. “As long as everyone files their mission reports by the time we get back to HQ, everyone is off until Monday morning.”
“Sweet, we should be in and unloaded by thirteen hundred, thirteen-thirty tops. That leaves a lot of the day left and all day tomorrow off,” Wilson said.
Lambchop chuckled. “Why, what are you planning?”
“Yeah, not enough time to get away on another dive weekend,” Mother added.
“Sadly, no,” Wilson agreed. “My plan? To do absolutely nothing. And that’s the point. I’ll stop on my way home and get some beer or a bottle of rum and diet. I’ll order Chinese or a pizza and do nothing until Monday morning, when I plan to arrive at HQ several hours before the time to deploy so I can hit the gym.”
The three other men laughed. “You can tell he’s single,” Lambchop said.
“But right now, I’m going to go catch a workout in the hotel gym,” Wilson said. “We’re leaving for the airport at what, about zero nine hundred?”
“Yeah, we’ll meet by the cars then,” Lambchop confirmed.
At zero nine hundred, Wilson and Jackson exited the hotel through the back door, near where their vehicles were parked. Within minutes, all six men had exited the hotel and had the vehicles packed for the short drive to the airfield.