“And you’ll have one first thing tomorrow,” Mei assured her, her voice calm. “But we thought you might prefer to cooperate with us instead.”
The kidnapper didn’t answer. She slouched in her seat and crossed her arms, her lower lip jutting out in a mulish pout.
“So here’s the deal,” Nick said. His raspy voice held a note of steel. “You’ve been identified as Anna Russo’s kidnapper. Forensics will get your prints from the medicine wrapper you left in the apartment and whatever else you touched. You’ll go down for the kidnapping without a doubt. But that’s the least of your problems right now.”
That seemed to get her attention. She shot a scowl at Nick. “What do you mean?”
“There was someone else at the pharmacy today. A woman who recognized you from Chicago. She can place you in Moretti’s warehouse, the one where the trafficking victims were kept.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, but her eyes looked worried now.
“Don’t you? That’s too bad because we’ve got you dead to rights on that. Kidnapping, torture, sexual abuse, illegal confinement, forced used of drugs, threats, psychological abuse...” He raised his hands to tick them off. “That’s fifteen years to life on every federal charge, multiplied by how many girls? Twenty-eight? And there’ll be state charges, too. I can guarantee you won’t ever see daylight again, and that’s assuming you even survive.”
“I told you I want a lawyer.”
“That might not be the smartest move. You know what happens to Moretti’s people after their arrest?”
Seemingly indifferent, she shrugged.
Nick opened a manila envelope and removed a photo. He set it on the table between them, turning it so she could see. “Recognize her?” Rebecca glanced down, and her face went white. “That’s Olivia Conner after Moretti got through with her.” He took out a couple more photos. “You might recognize these guys, too. Nice gut jobs, huh?” He started flipping down photos as if he were dealing a deck of cards. “Here’s another one of his people. And this one. Wow. He really did a number on him.”
The woman swayed in her seat, looking sick. Nick leaned toward her, his voice even harder now. “In case you don’t get it, they’re dead, Rebecca. All of them. Moretti killed them after they lawyered up.”
He sat back and feigned a shrug. “But, hey. Think of the bright side. You might not even make it to prison. The Ghost is doing a damned good job killing Moretti’s people before they get that far.”
“Especially if we let word slip that they’ve cooperated with us,” Mei added.
Nick flipped a final photo on the pile. “That’s Nadia Green. I figure that’s how you’ll end up.”
Rebecca’s face paled even more. Her gaze traveled between Nick and Mei, and even from another room, Lara could feel her fear.
“What...what do you want to know?”
“For starters, who helped you kidnap Anna,” Mei said.
Rebecca seemed to shrink. Looking shaken, she hugged her arms. “He’s just a guy I know. He’s from here, not Chicago. Moretti doesn’t have anything to do with him.”
“His name?” Nick demanded, his voice still cold.
“Brandon Johnson.”
“Perfect,” Victoria muttered, catching Lara’s eye. She motioned toward the door. “Come on. It’s time to bring him in.”
* * *
“Brandon Johnson is an arms dealer,” Victoria told the team crowding around her desk the following morning. “And not a two-bit operator, either, from what I’ve learned. I put his name in the system and ran a deconfliction on him. Turns out the ATF has been working a case on him for the past three years. They suspect he’s smuggling arms through his grocery wholesale business, mostly AKs and semiautomatic handguns, typical drug gang stuff.”
Lara’s spirits took a nosedive. If ATF was after him, that complicated everything. In theory, their kidnapping charge would take precedence, even over a long-standing weapons case. But with two different agencies involved, egos and rank could interfere. “So ATF’s got dibs on him?”
“Not exactly.” Victoria leaned back in her chair and steepled her hands, a smug expression on her face. “Rebecca Peterson did a little more squealing last night, thanks to Nick.” She smiled at Nick, who lounged beside the door, his heavy beard stubble making him look even more disreputable in the light of day. “Seems she overheard Brandon Johnson finalizing an arms shipment for tonight. It’s a big one, too—RPGs and stinger missiles.”
“Who’s the customer?” Lara asked. Most gangs didn’t bother with weapons that powerful unless they planned to resell them to a terrorist.
“We don’t know. But it should be interesting to find out. I called ATF and gave them the intel, so they could organize the bust. But I asked for a professional courtesy in return. We’re going to be at the warehouse tonight, helping with the takedown. We get to be in on the interview when they haul him in. And they’ve promised to bring kidnapping charges against him. He’s not getting off the hook for that.”
“Good.” Victoria deserved to get retribution for her daughter, no matter what else the ATF did.
“That means we need to get ready,” she continued. “So, whatever plans you’ve got for tonight, you need to cancel them now.”
The team murmured their agreement. They’d all put endless hours into this case and were anxious for a win. And while this wouldn’t bring down Moretti, they could at least get justice for Anna and put both kidnappers behind bars.
“Lara, Nick, I want you to go over to Financial Square and talk to the ATF about how we’re setting this up. We’ll meet back here at three for the final briefing. And cooperate,” she warned. “Let’s not get into a pissing match. They can take the lead as long as we get a stab at him.”
“Agreed.” Lara followed Nick out the door, her steps suddenly light, a strangely buoyant sensation suffusing her veins. It took her a moment to identify the feeling since she hadn’t experienced it in so long.
She realized with a shock that it was hope.
* * *
At ten o’clock that night, the team converged on an industrial park on the edge of Brownsville, a section of Brooklyn the gentrification boom had left untouched. Shivering in the cold night air, Lara pulled her knit cap over her ears, fastened the clasps on her bulletproof vest, and glanced around. The streets were deserted this time of night. Brownsville was notoriously violent, even by New York City standards, thanks to frequent turf wars between rival gangs. Anyone with any sense hunkered down in the projects come sundown and focused on staying alive.
In the distance, a siren wailed. Then a dog began to howl, the mournful note raising goose bumps on her arms. She gave a fleeting thought to the warm bed waiting for her at home, but pushed the thought aside. She had a job to do. And she’d gladly forfeit some hours of sleep if it would lead them to the second kidnapper—and put their boss’s mind at rest.
“Is everyone from your unit here?” Mario Esposito of the ATF asked her. As area commander, he was heading this operation and had pulled out all the stops. He’d mobilized dozens of agents—one team to initiate the breach from the front of the building, another to swarm the back and a third group to rappel into the warehouse from the skylights on the roof. They had spotters on the surrounding buildings, agents blocking the roads to make sure any outside traffic stayed away.
“We’re ready,” Lara confirmed. Everyone on her team was participating, except for Cass. She was monitoring communications in the command center, making sure nothing went wrong. Even Victoria had tagged along, although her part would come later, after they’d made the arrests.
“Let’s go,” Esposito told his men. Several agents nodded and slipped away. They were the advance team, employed to take out any lookouts the arms smugglers had posted around the site. Once they’d secured the perimeter, the rest of them would move in.
Lara stamped her feet and rubbed her arms, trying to control the adrenaline pumping through her blood. She s
nuck a glance at Nick, who stood a few yards away. Like everyone else, he was dressed in black, his features hard to make out in dark of night. But she could feel the tension enveloping him like a force field. They were more than ready to get this done.
“Target down. West side of the alley is clear,” a voice murmured through her earpiece a minute later.
“Second sentry secured. East side of the alley is clear,” another agent announced several minutes after that.
That was the signal for the tactical team to scale the roof.
Lara’s pulse drummed. She pulled out her weapon, her nerves tightening as the seconds passed. They’d planned this operation meticulously, but anything could still go wrong. No one could predict exactly how a criminal would react when he was trapped. She just prayed they’d all survive.
“The roof is clear,” another agent said. “Ready to breach.”
“All right. Let’s move out,” Esposito said, waving them forward.
Lara led the group, heading toward the alley behind the building. They had to be careful in an operation like this. They couldn’t storm in from every direction, or they’d end up killing themselves. And while Lara preferred to enter from the front, leading the charge, she’d had to cede control to the ATF and their highly synchronized team. Lara’s unit would secure the rear, making sure none of the smugglers escaped.
Using a penlight to guide her path, she worked her way along the narrow space between two neighboring warehouses toward the back alley and the loading dock. She tiptoed through broken bottles and trash, careful not to make any noise. Moments later, she reached the alley, then drew closer to the warehouse, her heart beating triple time.
The cargo bay’s lights were on. The metal doors were up. There was a semi parked at the center bay, and she could hear a forklift rumbling as it worked, offloading crates and pallets, and hauling them inside.
Just then, a man emerged from the warehouse carrying a clipboard. She ducked into the shadows and stopped, signaling for her team to hold up. Brandon Johnson, she wondered? He was about the right size, and his cocky stride and clipboard indicated that he was in charge.
He stopped on the dock, motioning to someone on the truck. Then the forklift came into view, its engine roaring as it came near. He waited as it loaded up several crates, then followed it back inside the warehouse and disappeared.
Relieved, she released a breath. Thankfully, he hadn’t seen them, still giving them the advantage of surprise. She started to move, then stopped again, her attention diverted by a door on the side of the building, partially hidden behind a low brick wall.
With a frown, she wracked her memory of their pre-raid briefing, but no one had mentioned that door before. And she didn’t dare leave it unsecured. Even if it was only a storage area, she needed to check it out. It could contain munitions or other flammable materials that would completely change the game. If they had a shoot-out around explosives, they’d blow themselves to smithereens.
“I just saw a door we didn’t know about,” she whispered to Nick, who’d crept up beside her. “I’m going to check it out.”
“All right. We’ll fan out.”
“Keep your eye on the people in the truck.”
“I will.” He signaled to the team, and they faded into the shadows, ready to move in at her command.
Lara kept her eye out for the forklift. When it didn’t immediately come back, she darted across the pavement to the side of the building, trying not to make any sounds. She holstered her gun and vaulted the wall, then cautiously approached the door.
Without warning, it swung open. A man stepped out, an automatic rifle in his beefy hand. She went for her gun—too late.
“Stop!” he ordered, and she froze.
His gaze quickly swept her, his eyes narrowing on the big yellow FBI blazoned across her vest. “Hands up,” he said, waiting until she complied. Then he closed the distance between them, grabbed her arm and hauled her around. He forced her back through the open doorway and slammed it shut.
“We’ve got a situation here,” he said into his radio. He pushed her farther into the building, his rifle prodding into her back. She spared a second to glance around, realizing that it was a storeroom. The shelves were empty. Thank God.
Another man appeared from the opposite doorway. He trained his gun on her. “What the hell?”
“The feds are out there,” the smuggler behind her said. “Guard her while I tie her up.”
She hissed as he removed her gun. Then he pulled off her radio and crushed it with his boot. He pulled both arms behind her and wrapped a zip tie around her wrists, the plastic digging into her skin. He tightened it with a vicious tug.
She frantically searched for options she didn’t seem to have. She was obviously outnumbered. Trying to resist would be futile and probably only hasten her death. But Cass would notice that her radio had gone dark. Her team would realize that something was wrong and move in fast—meaning she had to be prepared to act.
“Come on,” the smuggler said to his companion. “We need to alert the boss.” He gave her a strong shove forward. She stumbled and nearly fell but managed to right herself. Then she trailed the other man through a door into the main warehouse, her pulse racing as she glanced around. The space was cavernous and cold, the long metal shelves stacked high with crates. She could hear the forklift roaring nearby as they headed down the aisle toward the center of the building. The fluorescent lights were on.
Blinking in the brightness, she glanced up. She spotted the skylights overhead, aware that the tactical team was up there, preparing to strike. Hoping to God they saw her, she returned her attention to the smugglers and tried to assess the threat. She’d counted half a dozen men so far. But there had to be more for an operation this important, even counting the sentries they’d taken out. Given the value of those missiles, they wouldn’t take the chance of getting ripped off.
They reached the man with the clipboard a few seconds later. He turned around at their approach, looking annoyed. This close she could see the similarities with the artist’s drawing of the kidnapper. Definitely Brandon Johnson, she decided, scowling back.
“What the hell’s going on?” he demanded.
“You’re surrounded,” Lara told him. “We know all about the shipment. You need to surrender now.”
Panic flashed through Johnson’s eyes. He turned to the nearest man. “Call the sentries.”
The man keyed up a radio similar to hers. “Manolo? Steve?” A second later, his gaze went to his boss. “Nothing.”
“We took them out,” Lara said. “I told you, you’re surrounded. The best thing you can do now is give up.”
“Shut up.”
“If you try to run, someone’s just going to get hurt. You need to—”
“I said, shut up!” Looking furious, he lashed out. Pain exploded across her lip, and she reeled back, the taste of blood filling her mouth. Her own anger surged, and she wanted desperately to fight back, but with her hands tied, she couldn’t move.
“Get rid of her,” he told the man behind her. He signaled to his other men. “Let’s go! We need to move out now!”
The gunman forced her to her knees. Her head went light as he pressed the barrel of his gun against her skull.
Her blood turned cold with fear.
He pulled the hammer back, and she braced herself to die.
A blinding flash of light exploded into the room, followed by a piercing bang. The shock wave rocked her back, the force of the explosion nearly knocking her off her knees. Smoke filled the room. Debris flew through the air. Then the skylights shattered above her, and glass began raining down.
A stun grenade. The breach had just begun.
She knew this split-second distraction was all she’d have. Leaning forward, she inhaled sharply, then shot her leg straight back, slamming her boot into the gunman’s kneecap with all her strength. He dropped to the ground with a howl, managing to squeeze off a round just as she dove to the side
.
His shot went wide. She continued rolling, knowing that if she tried to stand, she’d make herself a bigger target and wind up dead. She fetched up against the shelves, then tugged frantically at her restraints, but the zip tie wouldn’t budge. Swearing, she scooted farther away, trying to stay out of the line of fire.
The thick smoke stung her eyes. Pandemonium broke out around her, the staccato sound of gunfire echoing in her ears. She made out the tactical team rappelling down from the roof, while more agents shouted and swarmed the scene.
Then a smuggler emerged from the smoke, racing toward her. “Stop! FBI!” someone shouted, but he’d seen her and raised his gun.
Her heart careened to a halt. She knew she couldn’t escape.
A shot barked out. The man cried out and fell.
Lara spotted Nick behind him, lowering his gun.
“Good shot,” she managed to gasp as he rushed toward her.
“Forget it.”
Forget it, hell. Her partner had saved her life. But she’d have time to thank him later.
He whipped out a pocketknife and slashed off the zip tie. “Are you okay?” he asked as she leaped up and rubbed her wrists.
“I’m fine.” She took a swipe at her bleeding lip, then scooped up the smuggler’s gun, not knowing where her own sidearm had gone. But the bust was already winding down.
Nick said something into his radio, then turned to her. “It’s over. The warehouse is secure. Come on.”
Lara followed him through the broken glass, her lip throbbing, her pulse still maniacal as she surveyed the scene. The smell of gunfire hung thick in the air.
At least a dozen smugglers were kneeling in the center of the warehouse. Their hands were cuffed, their weapons piled to one side. She caught of a glimpse of two bodies lying motionless in the adjacent aisle as the ATF area commander approached.
“Are any of our people hurt?” she asked him.
“Two. Nothing life-threatening, though. The medics are on their way. We’re checking the other casualties now.”
Tough Justice Series Box Set, Parts 1-8 Page 36
