Operation: Beach Angel

by Margaret Kay

  Lambchop could not help but feel dismayed by the events of the past few months. Not even a month earlier, shortly before Christmas, they conducted a mission to rescue hundreds of victims of human trafficking, women, and girls as young as four years old. The government of Algeria had unofficially called the Americans in to help because they didn’t want to use their own police or military forces to free the women and subdue those profiting from it, who were probably friends and relatives of those same government authorities who called them in.

  What they found rocked every member of the team. For Lambchop, being an ordained pastor in addition to a soldier, it hit him in a different way. Just like the rest of the team, he was sickened by the conditions the women were held in and stunned by the sheer number of victims. The heartlessness and wickedness of the perpetrators who traded in human souls proved to him that these vile criminals were henchmen of the devil. That mission reminded him that true evil existed, and it renewed his dedication to fighting the satanic forces that threatened the Earth.

  He was also appalled by the government of Algeria’s handling of it. They didn’t want to get their hands dirty by being involved. They didn’t want to send a clear message to the perpetrators that this crime would not be tolerated. They did not take a moral high ground. No, they did all but applaud it.

  The greed that drove so many evil deeds never ended. Mother’s girlfriend’s kidnappings were motivated by greed as well. As a soldier, fighting foreign forces over land, political, or religious differences was one thing. Battling human traffickers who got rich providing people as a commodity to some of the sickest sons-a-bitches on the planet who would exploit and abuse them was something completely different. In Mother’s girlfriend’s case it was the greed of what appeared to be one man who didn’t care about people’s lives or the beautiful and pristine environment that was home to some of the most magnificent animals on the planet, an environment that was threatened with destruction because of this greedy asshole.

  Mother entered the car and startled him out of his thoughts.

  “Did you get her settled in our room?” Lambchop asked.

  Mother had a frown on his face. “Yeah, and I’ll text Lassiter right now to get a call set up between them. Man, I’m just not sure how long it’s going to take for her to get past this and feel safe again.”

  Lambchop shifted to drive and pulled away from the curb. Dr. Joe Lassiter was the team shrink. Colonel Sam ‘Big Bear’ Shepherd, the head of the agency, realized that they were human beings that needed someone like Joe to ensure their mental stability. It wasn’t easy to see the shit they did on a regular basis and stay mentally right. Trauma and PTSD were real. Joe was the instrument that converted trauma to healing so PTSD wouldn’t result.

  “That’s good. Joe is just the person she needs to talk with. And she has you. She’ll be fine.”

  Mother tapped out the text message. He stowed his phone in his jacket pocket after it was sent. “Thanks. I appreciate you saying that. I love that woman,” he declared. He ran his hand through his shaggy black hair.

  Lambchop wasn’t surprised by his statement. He knew Mother loved Annaka. He imagined he’d be performing their wedding ceremony sooner rather than later. As soon as it was possible, operationally, he would perform the double wedding ceremony for the two other Delta Team members, Sloan and Sherman. In the past six months, they’d both found the woman they loved, and they wanted their unions recognized by God.

  Sherman’s fiancé was pregnant with their child. Most saw Sherman’s actions as reckless, getting that girl pregnant. Lambchop saw it for what it was. Sherman had played it fast and loose for many years. He’d been with more women than Lambchop wanted to count, but he’d always used protection. He treated Brielle differently from any other woman he’d ever been with because he felt differently about her, including having unprotected sex with her. Sherman confessed to Lambchop that he’d omitted using condoms on purpose for that very reason.

  Sloan, on the other hand, had reunited with a woman he’d loved and lost in his youth. Sloan was good for Kaylee. He was just what she needed. And having Kaylee back in his life was just what he needed to bring closure to past traumas. Lambchop watched the love and trust redevelop between them with his own eyes. He knew that one of the most powerful aspects of human love was forgiveness, and they both needed and received a healthy dose of it from each other.

  “I know you want to be with her right now. I would too if she were my woman, but will you be able to concentrate on the mission?”

  “Are you asking as my team leader or my friend?”

  He could tell by his tone that Mother was not angry, nor was he offended by the question. “Both,” Lambchop said.

  “Well, as my friend, I’d tell you I am worried about her and yes, I’d prefer to be with her tonight. But talking to you as my team leader, I’d guarantee you that even though that is the case, I can concentrate on the job.”

  Lambchop flashed a smile at him. “We’ll get you back to her as soon as possible, and I’ll move into one of the other rooms and hot-bunk it with one of the other guys so you can be alone with her tonight.” He and Mother, as usual, shared a room.

  “Thanks,” Mother said. “Did you get any updates from Cooper on the stakeout of the smoke shop since we left?”

  “No, but he knows we are back in Seattle and on our way to relieve him and Jackson. We’ll get an update when we get there.”

  All four of Delta Team’s members plus John ‘Coop’ Cooper and Ethan ‘Jax’ Jackson from Alpha team were onsite. They always ran six-man teams when on a DEA Partner Mission. They were set up in the Rainier Beach neighborhood. Their target was a smoke shop in a small strip mall that the DEA and Seattle PD were sure was the distribution point for a major drug ring. The problem was, they had no proof, yet. That was where the Shepherd Security Team came in. They had the ability to run investigations a bit differently than regular law enforcement, coloring a bit outside of the lines.

  They went through a drive thru to get food for themselves and everyone who was currently staking out the smoke shop. Then Lambchop drove the short distance to the alleyway that led behind the vacant house that they were using to run their surveillance, their onsite headquarters. It was across the street from their target building.

  The narrow alley was unlit. It was littered with trash and empty liquor bottles. If you looked closely enough, you could see used needles carelessly tossed to the ground as well. On this block of twenty houses, fifteen were shuttered. Lambchop would call them vacant, but most of them had been taken over by squatters, either the homeless or by gangs to be used as hang outs and drug dens. The DEA had cleared the area when establishing this house as their surveillance point, but since then, in a span of three weeks, many houses had been re-infested.

  As they neared the back of their onsite headquarters, a figure came into their headlights. A man they had seen several times over the past few days, swayed and stumbled as he attempted to make his way down the alley. As their car neared him, he turned and yelled at them. He was right in the middle, so they couldn’t go around him. They were forced to slow to a crawl. The man struck the hood repeatedly. He cursed. Then he tripped and fell. They waited a few seconds, but he didn’t get up.

  “Can you get out and make sure he’s okay? Maybe help him to the side of the alley?”

  Mother sighed out loud. Lambchop lowered his window and watched him as he approached the downed man. Mother had his hand on his weapon, holstered on his hip. Lambchop unholstered his Sig .9 mm P226 and held it at the ready. He’d learned long ago to take nothing for granted.

  As Mother helped him to his feet, the man attacked, striking Mother with what looked to be powerful blows. Lambchop pulled his six-five, two-hundred-sixty pounds of stacked muscle from the driver’s seat and rushed up to them in time to see Mother disable the man and lay him out on the ground. He wasn’t moving.

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’s passed out cold,” Mother
said.

  “Is he still breathing?”

  “Yeah, and his breath is rank.”

  “Are you sure he didn’t hit his head when he went down?” Lambchop glanced around. No one else was in sight.

  “No, he passed out before I brought him down.”

  There was an old couch beside one of the garages. “Put him on that couch at least. We don’t want to leave this poor guy lying on the ground.” With his Sig still drawn, Lambchop covered Mother as he dragged the guy to the couch and wrestled him onto it.

  Mother stalked back to the car. “The fucker pissed his pants.”

  “Call his location in to EMS,” Lambchop ordered.

  They got back into the car and drove the short distance to the garage behind the house they were set up in. Lambchop hit the button and opened the garage door. The only vehicle inside was one of the other SUVs that their team had been lent by the local DEA when they arrived in Seattle. He pulled in and parked beside it. At the door that led into the back yard, he hit the switch and closed the garage door.

  He pulled his phone out and dialed Cooper’s saved number.

  “Are you back?” Cooper answered.

  “Yes,” Lambchop replied. “At the back door.”

  The house in front of them appeared dark and vacant. All the windows had been covered from the inside to make it look uninhabited. The door swung open and the light from inside suddenly illuminated the area. Cooper stood in the doorway; his spiked up blonde hair lit like a halo. Lambchop and Mother quickly entered, securing the door behind themselves.

  “Shepherd gave us an update. Glad you found her,” Cooper said.

  “Thanks, me too,” Mother replied.

  “You got her settled at the hotel, I hear.”

  “Yes, she wasn’t in any shape to fly back to Chicago on her own,” Mother replied.

  “How is she doing?” Jackson asked, coming into the room through the black curtain that was hung at the threshold between this room, the kitchen, and the front room where the surveillance was taking place.

  “She could be better,” Mother reported. “I think that her biggest issue right now is that she doesn’t know if she’ll get resolution and know why Patrick Keeling had pictures of her on his phone or what his real intentions were.”

  “So, let me get this straight. Patrick Keeling was her coworker. She thought he was kidnapped with her on Christmas Eve, but he was the one really holding her in that cabin where you found her?” Jackson asked.

  “Yes, and he fired a damn shotgun at us as we busted in. We had to return fire. We won’t get any answers from him,” Lambchop answered. Keeling had of course been killed in the exchange.

  “And while his phone and laptop were being examined is when they found he had taken pictures of her?” Jackson asked.

  Mother nodded, still pissed off it had been the case.

  “It’s hard for her to accept that she might not ever know why he took those pictures and that he could have taken that knowledge to the grave with him,” Lambchop added. “I can’t blame her, but we don’t always get things wrapped up in neat little packages.”

  Lambchop understood that for Annaka, as for most victims, the knowledge of why it happened was needed to reconcile what transpired. She needed assurances it was over. She wanted to be guaranteed that those responsible, would be brought to justice. The resolution was still playing out. Hopefully, she’d get at least two of the three.

  “It was just over four hours ago that you apprehended Keeling’s cousin. From what I hear, he’s cooperating. She has to give it time to play out,” Cooper said.

  “I don’t think she understands that these things take time,” Lambchop agreed.

  “Peter Keeling denied knowledge of the pictures and denied knowing anything about her house blowing up. I know the FBI will go back at him. Hopefully, they’ll get a few more answers for her,” Mother said. “And, she’ll have another call with Joe tonight. I’m sure that will help.”

  “I know she doesn’t really know Angel that well, but Angel could help her. We’ll have to make sure we get them together when we get back to HQ,” Jackson added. Angel was his wife, who had been through some very scary moments herself several years back, which was when he’d met her.

  “Yes, we definitely need to do that,” Mother agreed.

  “Okay, so bring us up to speed on this investigation,” Lambchop prompted.

  Jackson chuckled. “You weren’t even gone twelve hours.”

  “What, you haven’t wrapped it up yet?” Lambchop joked.

  The others laughed.

  “We are moving ahead with the plan to deploy Sherman and Sloan in the field behind the smoke shop tonight. They are at the hotel sleeping in prep for pulling an all-nighter. They’ll move into position at approximately twenty-one hundred,” Cooper reported.

  The alley that ran behind the strip mall was an area with little foot traffic so no one could be deployed in the alley. They would be identified immediately. A field, a creek, and then another field lay beyond the alley. The nearest building, pole, or fence was nearly three hundred yards away, too far to mount a camera. Near the creek was an area with overgrown, tall grass. It was the perfect place to conceal Brian ‘the Birdman’ Sherman and Gary ‘the Undertaker’ Sloan.

  Their surveillance of the front of the smoke shop may have identified drug customers, they weren’t even sure of that, but not how the product was getting delivered. They suspected it was through the back door. The DEA had staked out the entrances into the alley and photographed a lot of cars coming and going, many at nighttime. Many of those car windows were tinted, so they did not get a view of the drivers. Several of the license plates on the cars were bogus. They didn’t belong to the car they were attached to. That was why they would have their men set up with a camera to get pictures of the people entering or exiting through the back door and hopefully see them bringing product in.

  “Hey, you’re going to want to come and see this,” the voice of DEA Agent Linda Vale called from the front room.

  The four men passed through the curtain into the darkened room. “What have you got, Linda?” Cooper asked.

  “That blue Ford is back again. That’s twice today.”

  The blue Ford was registered to an eighty-five-year-old black man. The young man using the car had long, scraggly hair and untamed facial hair. He appeared to be Hispanic and in his early thirties. They had not identified him yet. Since the Shepherd Security Team arrived, he’d visited the shop six times.

  “We need to send someone in to plant a tracker on that car while the driver is in the shop, maybe even send him inside to see what’s going on,” Lambchop said. “How long did the driver stay inside last time?”

  “About fifteen minutes,” Cooper replied as Jackson pulled a tracker from their equipment bag.

  Lambchop handed the keys to the car to Mother. “See if you can make it inside before he leaves. If you cannot, abort. But try to get the tracker on the car.”

  Mother took the keys from Lambchop and the magnetic tracker from Jackson and rushed out the back door. Lambchop and the others settled in around the display equipment. They had several video cameras pointed at the parking lot and the front door to the smoke shop. They also had a camera on a tripod pointed at the area. It had a telephoto zoom lens that gave them incredibly close shots. They captured the people and vehicles up close.

  Lambchop focused on the display. Mother pulled up beside the blue Ford and parked. He was easily able to plant the magnetic tracker under the wheel well of the car. As he reached the door to the shop, it opened, and the man came out. Mother stepped aside and let him pass. Then he entered the store.

  “Damn,” Lambchop mumbled. He brought up the program that displayed the vehicle tracker Mother planted. “Linda, do you have a team that can follow this guy at a distance?”

  “Sorry, we don’t. It’s right at shift change and we just have the car set up at the alleyway right now.”

  Lambchop’s eyes went
to Cooper.

  Cooper and Jackson rose and grabbed their coats. “We’re on it.”

  Lambchop handed them two of the sandwiches from the bag from the drive thru and watched them disappear behind the curtain. Through his comms, he heard Mother. “How you doing?”

  Inside the smoke shop, Mother glanced around. The woman the briefing had identified as Dawn Spinks stood behind the counter, which ran around the entire shop. She was the only one in sight. She was a rail thin Caucasian with shoulder-length brown hair and green eyes in her late twenties. She didn’t have a record, not so much as a speeding ticket.