On the way to A.V.I. Headquarters, Dawn stroked the Range Rover’s luxurious leather upholstery and brushed her left hand along the gold-plated door trim. “This is very unusual for a government vehicle.”
Langan smiled. “I seized this little beauty from a major drug dealer.” He patted the seat lovingly. “As you know, we’re allowed to use the proceeds of crime in our fight against the criminals.” He flicked open a cover on the central console to reveal four buttons.
“I don’t suppose those are for the drinks cabinet,” Dawn said.
“No. They’re for the machine guns and rocket launcher.”
“Do they still work?” Dawn asked.
“Hell, yeah!” Langan confirmed.
“Why do you need this?”
“Nobody knows the scumbag that I took this off is dead. He was Irish, so when our agents set up a sting I’m introduced as him to seal the deal.” He flipped the button cover closed. “Don’t want any accidents, do we?”
He pointed out of the window, “here we are. This is our secret operations center. The one that I couldn’t even tell you about until today.”
The facility was hidden in plain sight. The sign on the front, in plain black letters on white simply read:
Alain
Verity
Intnl.
The notoriety of the late drug dealer’s massive warehouse on a nondescript industrial estate on the western outskirts of Chicago was enough to deter delinquents and most would-be intruders. Anyone unwise enough to ignore the perimeter warnings was greeted by silent sentinels. Langan had insisted on keeping a pack of pit bulls with their voice boxes removed, as guard dogs. Anyone lucky enough to escape warned their friends to stay away. No lawyer had ever been bold enough to pursue a compensation case.
Destiny's Daughter Page 10
