26. The Raid
The Raid
“FBI. Go.”Chris moved.The night erupted around him.Armored vehicles surged from darkness and sealed the warehouse exits almost simultaneously.Headlights flooded the loading yard.Red and blue emergency lights ignited against corrugated steel.Agents poured from vehicles.
”Chris ran with Alpha Team toward the western service entrance.No hesitation.No Roman.No pretending.Just Walker.His weapon was raised, eyes moving constantly.Windows.Roofline.Loading bays.Hands.Movement.Threats.Everything slowed in his mind the way it always did when everyone else thought the world was speeding up.His heartbeat dropped.Breathing steadied.Training took over. “Camera!”
Chris pointed upward.An agent behind him already had it.They reached the service entrance.Locked.Exactly as expected.The breaching agent moved forward.Chris took position beside the door.“Ready.”
“Ready.”The door crashed inward.“FBI!”
“FBI! SEARCH WARRANT!”
“SHOW ME YOUR HANDS!The team flooded inside.Chris entered third.
Narrow corridor.Concrete walls.Fluorescent lights.Exactly as he remembered.
Except last time he’d walked through here beside Mateo.Unarmed appearance.
Relaxed shoulders.Chris Roman.Mateo had actually laughed at something he’d said.
Now Chris moved through the same corridor with a federal tactical team behind him and FBI printed across his chest.Funny how quickly a life could change.“Clear left.”
“Clear.”Chris pointed ahead.“Camera at the corner.”They moved.Then someone appeared at the end of the hallway.A man Chris recognized.Luis.One of Diego’s warehouse guards.
Luis froze.His eyes landed on Chris.Confusion.Recognition.Then disbelief.“Roman?”
Chris’s weapon stayed trained on him.“Hands!”Luis stared at the FBI vest.“You motherfucker.”
“Hands where I can see them!”Luis reached toward his waistband.“DON’T!”Too late.
Agents moved.Luis was slammed against the wall before he could draw.Weapon removed.
Hands secured.He kept staring at Chris.“Fucking fed.”Chris didn’t respond.“Roman!”
Chris walked past him.“Name’s Walker.”The loading floor exploded into chaos.The second Alpha Team cleared the corridor, workers started running.Some dropped to the floor immediately.Others scattered.One man tried climbing behind stacked pallets.
Another sprinted toward the loading doors.“FBI!”
“GET DOWN!”
“HANDS!”
“DON’T MOVE!”Chris scanned the warehouse.Packages.Hundreds.Exactly where they’d been.Some still stacked on pallets.Others packed into black duffel bags.A white cargo van sat partially loaded near bay four.Another truck had its rear doors open.They’d been minutes from moving everything.Maybe less.Chris keyed his radio.
“Walker. Visual confirmation. Product remains on site. Significant quantity.”Mercer’s voice answered.
“Copy.”Chris looked toward the elevated office.Mateo.Not yet.Secure the floor first.
Gunfire cracked from the far side of the warehouse.Chris dropped behind cover.
“GUN!”Three more shots.Agents returned fire toward the threat while others dragged two detained workers behind cover.Chris’s eyes moved.Muzzle flash.Upper storage platform.“Second level!”He pointed.“North side!”Another shot struck metal.Sparks flew.
“MOVE!”Chris crossed behind a forklift.An agent followed.The shooter disappeared behind stacked inventory.Chris knew that platform.One staircase.One rear maintenance ladder.“Bravo, watch rear ladder!”
“Copy!”Chris moved toward the stairs with two agents.Fast.Controlled.No wasted movement.Halfway up—a man appeared.Weapon.Chris reacted.
“DROP IT!”The man hesitated.Chris held him.
“Don’t.”For one second, their eyes met.The gun fell.Metal hit concrete.
“DOWN!”The man dropped.Agent behind Chris moved in to secure him.
Chris continued.At the top of the stairs he checked the platform.Empty.The original shooter had moved.Chris looked toward the maintenance corridor.Of course.He keyed his radio.“Shooter moving east through upper maintenance access.”
“How do you know?”Mercer.“Because that’s where I’d go.”Chris moved.At FBI headquarters, Camila sat forward so far Sloan finally put a hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t.”Camila didn’t look at her.“Don’t what?”
“Get any closer to the screen. You can’t climb through it.”Camila barely heard her.
Several monitors displayed different feeds.Exterior surveillance.Body-camera footage.
Overhead images.Warehouse cameras the Bureau had managed to access.Nothing stayed still long enough for her to understand what she was seeing.Black uniforms.FBI markings.
Men on the floor.Agents moving.Vehicles.Lights.She couldn’t find Chris.Every blond head made her heart jump.Every agent roughly his height made her lean forward.Then the camera changed.“Wait.”Sloan looked over.“What?”
“Go back.”
“I don’t control the feeds.”
“I heard him.”
“Camila—”
“That was Chris.”Sloan watched.The image switched again.Gone.Camila grabbed the hem of the sweatshirt.Chris’s sweatshirt.Her fingers found the hard plastic hidden inside the pocket.Two tests.She squeezed them.Two pink lines.Her heart hurt.“You better be okay.”
Sloan glanced at her.Camila didn’t care.She stared at the monitor.Chris cleared the upper corridor.Nothing.The shooter had gone down through another access point.Chris swore.
“Lost him.”Mercer’s voice:“Return primary floor. Bravo has north side.”
“Copy.”Chris headed back.Then he heard it.An engine.Not outside.Inside.He reached the railing overlooking the warehouse.A black SUV near bay five started.“Vehicle moving!”
Chris keyed the radio.“Bay five! Vehicle!”The SUV accelerated.Workers dove aside.“STOP THE VEHICLE!”It didn’t.The driver aimed directly toward the partially opening loading door.Chris recognized him.One of Diego’s men.“Containment, black SUV coming out five!”
Outside, an FBI armored vehicle moved into position.The SUV slammed on its brakes.
Reverse lights.“Watch it!”The driver threw it backward.Agents scattered.Then another man appeared from behind the SUV with a handgun.“GUN!”Shots erupted.Chris dropped behind the railing support.The sound inside the warehouse was deafening.
Gunfire.Shouting.Metal.Engines.“FBI!”
“DROP THE WEAPON!”
“DROP IT!”More shots.Then silence.A long fucking second.Chris looked.The armed man was down.Agents moved toward him.The SUV driver surrendered.Chris exhaled.Then immediately looked toward the elevated office.Mateo.Still there?
He keyed the radio.“Status primary?”A pause.Too long.Then:“Primary office visual lost.”Chris’s stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Vargas moved.”
“When?”
“During shots fired.”
“Fuck.”Chris descended the stairs fast.“Mercer, Mateo knows this building. If he moved during the distraction, he’s heading rear.”
“Charlie has rear.”
“Not all of it.”Chris hit the floor.“Walker—”
“The rail-service route.”Silence.Then Mercer:“Move.”Chris ran.Camila heard the first gunshots through the tactical feed.Her entire body froze.The radio shook violently.Someone shouted.Then static.Another feed took over.More shouting.Camila stood.
“What happened?”Sloan was already listening to her earpiece.“What happened?”
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“Camila.”
“Was that gunfire?”Sloan didn’t answer.Camila’s voice rose.“That was gunfire!”
“Yes.”The room tilted.“Where is Chris?”Sloan looked toward another screen.“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“There are multiple teams inside.”
“You said you could monitor them.”
“We can. That doesn’t mean I know Walker’s position every second.”Another burst of gunfire came through the feed.Camila flinched.Her hand immediately went to her pocket.
Pregnancy tests.Chris.Oh God.“Where is he?”Sloan listened.Nothing.Camila stepped toward her.“Sloan.”
“I’m listening.”
“Ask.”
“I can’t clog operational radio traffic because—”
“ASK!”Sloan looked at her.Camila was crying now.She didn’t care.“Please.”Sloan’s expression softened.Then her eyes sharpened at something in her earpiece.“Walker just transmitted.”Camila stopped.“What?”
“He’s okay.”Her knees weakened.“Are you sure?”“I heard him.”
“When?”
“Seconds ago.”Camila closed her eyes.Her hand pressed against her stomach.“Thank God.”Sloan noticed.Neither said anything.Then another voice came over the room’s speakers.“Primary target moving.”Camila opened her eyes.Primary target.Mateo.
Her brother reduced to an operational designation.She stared at the screen.“That’s Mateo.”Sloan didn’t lie.“Yes.”Camila’s relief disappeared.Chris reached the rear warehouse corridor.Two agents joined him.“Walker.”
“Service exit.”
“We’ve got exterior containment.”
“Not where he’s going.”Chris shoved through another door.Storage.Empty.
Next.Mechanical room.Then the narrow passage he’d noticed months earlier.
Mateo had never shown him where it led.He hadn’t needed to.Chris had memorized the building.He reached the end.Door.Unlocked.He stopped.Hand up.The agents stacked behind him.Chris listened.Nothing.He opened it.Cold air.Rail-service road.Empty.Then tires squealed somewhere beyond the fence.
“Movement!”Chris ran.A black Tahoe appeared beyond the adjoining building.His pulse jumped.Mateo’s vehicle. “Black Tahoe!”
Agents outside reacted.FBI vehicles began moving to intercept.Chris sprinted toward the access gate.The Tahoe accelerated.Then—stopped.Another FBI vehicle blocked the road.
Reverse.Blocked behind.Doors opened.Armed agents surrounded it.“FBI!”
“DRIVER! HANDS!”Chris slowed.Mateo?The driver’s door opened.A man emerged.
Not Mateo.Chris recognized him.Warehouse employee.Decoy.“Fuck.”He keyed his radio.
“Not primary. Repeat, Tahoe is a decoy.”Mercer responded immediately.“Then where the hell is Vargas?”Chris turned toward the warehouse.His eyes moved over the structure.