by Linzi Basset
“You wanted to see me?” Roger Owens, the firm’s IT Manager, enquired from the doorway.
Pamela looked up and pointed to her laptop. “Yes, please look at this email. I can't get any background on it using the normal IP trace you showed me.”
Roger came around the desk and sat down in the chair she vacated for him. He glanced at her with a worried look on his face.
“It's a threat. Is it a high-profile case?”
“That's just it. It isn't and relatively cut and dried in my opinion.”
“Give me a couple of minutes, let me see what I can find.”
“Good. I have a lunch appointment. Let me know when you do.”
On the way to meet with a potential new client, Pamela contemplated the threat. She was known for handling and winning many high-profile cases. This was the first time she’d ever received a threat in relation to a case she was handling, and it concerned her. There had to be more to it than just the sale of a retail liquor group.
She parked the car in the underground garage of the Four Seasons Hotel where she was meeting Vanessa Cortes, a famous movie actress, who wanted to sue one of the big movie producers for breach of contract. She scrolled through the numbers for her PA’s and made the call.
“Josie, please ask Allan and his team to start an investigation into Five Star Enterprises. I want every piece of intel they can find. Something is not kosher and I need to find out what it is.”
Chapter Twelve
“Have you emailed me all the intel?”
Alex walked into the kitchen on Monday morning to find Pamela on her cell phone while she was preparing breakfast. She stood in front of the stove, dressed in a customary dark business suit with one of his mother’s bright pink aprons tied around her waist. Her hair was taken up into a loose knot with enticing tendrils hanging around her face. She presented a contrast. Professional on the one hand and a sultry seductive on the other. She glanced around at the scraping sound of the barstool at the breakfast nook as he pulled it out and sat down.
“Thanks, Allan. I’ll be at the office in an hour. I’d like to meet with you to go over the information.” She ended the call, slipped the phone into her jacket pocket and glanced sideways at him. “Good morning.”
Alex mumbled a reply while taking a satisfying draw from the fragrant coffee he’d just poured.
“Still grumpy in the mornings, I see.”
“As a matter of fact, no. It’s a habit I lost years ago. I just can’t wait to have my house to myself again.”
Pamela dished up two plates with fluffy scrambled eggs, hash browns, and chicken sausages in a mushroom and onion sauce. She carried them to the counter and placed one in front of him as she sat down.
“Your mother’s ankle is getting better by the day. Never fear, Governor, I won’t become a permanent fixture in your house.”
He studied her briefly but chose not to respond, something he could see irritated her to no end. She’d been pushing to start up a banter with him since she’d moved in. He chose not to indulge her. It was more fun watching her constantly failing.
“Very tasty. When did you become such a heavy eater in the morning? Especially something this greasy. Or is this purely for my benefit?”
She shrugged and started to eat. “We both have to eat and I believe in a good meal to start the day.”
Alex’s phone ringing interrupted his response. “This is a little early for a friendly chat, Rhone, so what’s up?”
“The intel your IC supplied just before the explosion was spot on, Alex. Hank Shutto sang like a canary once we showed him the proof we have linking him to the Sixth Order, even though some of it was bogus documentation Max conjured up.”
“It’s about fucking time that he cracked. He’s been holding out too long. I think he’s more scared what the Sixth Order might do to his family, if you ask me,” Alex rumbled as he took a sip of his coffee.
“I believe so too. Shutto pointed us to the homeless shelter on Duke St. D, Alexandria, in exchange for putting his family in a witness protection program. He alluded that it isn’t just a soup kitchen and shelter but refused to offer anything else. Max and Richard managed to get a GeoEye visual on the shelter and have been monitoring the movement in and out of the premises for the past four weeks. Jim and Vincent went undercover as homeless people eight times during that period and made nearly three-dozen drug purchases on the property.”
“On the property? So, they’re using it as a distribution center? I had hoped it would be more than that.”
“It is. The director of the shelter and soup kitchen, Emily Sanchez, is acting very suspiciously according to Jim. She keeps the storeroom under lock and key and no one but her has access to it, although they saw her unlock it for deliveries that were made two days ago. According to the visual Richard has on the place, two delivery men never came back out. Max traced the van and it’s registered to a pharmaceutical company.”
“No shit,” Alex sat upright.
“Xenia Pharmaceuticals. They’re small fries in a big bag. Max dug a little deeper and found that one of the three owners are none other than Carl Falcon, who runs and owns Falcon Freight Incorporated. He’s also the director Lance had suspicions about on the board of Crown International.”
“So, it’s a shell company for the Sixth Order.”
“Exactly. From suspicious movements over the past two days, Jim and Vincent are certain the shelter is used as a high-rise drug lab apart from distributing the drugs among the homeless or using some of them to sell it off.”
“Yeah, they’re easy targets. Most of them would do anything for a couple of hundred dollars, especially if it’s a monthly guaranteed income.”
“We're ready to move on them late afternoon, just before the dinner rush. They’ll never expect a raid at that time of day.”
“I'll be there.”
“No, Alex. You and Lance are still recuperating. I don't want either of you to—”
“Zip it, mate. I'm much stronger already and I’m going. It's time to end those fuckers, and the sooner, the better. The more we can hurt them by cutting off their cash flow bit by bit, the better the chances they’ll fuck up and make a mistake.” He took a bite of the juicy sausage and said while chewing, “I'll get a tactical SWAT and sniper team ready as well.”
“Make sure it's people you can trust. I don't want anyone to tip them off.”
“Don't worry. I’ll make sure they're secure. I have to go into the office for a short meeting. I'll arrange it then.”
“Briefing at Precision Secure at noon. Tell the operatives to come kit up and ready to roll. We’ll make sure there’s lunch for everyone.”
“See you then.” Alex ended the call. He glanced at Pamela and frowned as he caught her staring at her phone.
“Problems?”
She blinked and looked up. “Nothing I can't handle.”
Alex frowned. She appeared pale and drawn.
“Don't bullshit me, Pam. I know you well enough to know when something is wrong.”
She got up. “I have to get to the office.”
He caught her arm as she walked past.
“Not before you tell me what’s going on.”
She shrugged with an unconcerned smile. “It's a case I'm working on, Alex. Not all of them are easy riding.” She tilted back her head and stared at him with a direct challenge in her eyes. “Now, either let me go or kiss me goodbye.”
Alex's eyes narrowed. “Don't push me. You're only in my house to see to my mother, nothing else.” He let go of her arm. “Our agreement isn't extended to outside the Club, Pamela. I have no desire to kiss you.” He deliberately turned back to his breakfast, choosing to ignore the flash of pain in her eyes.
“I better get going then. I wouldn't want to be in your way.”
Alex looked up as she disappeared through the inter-leading garage door. Her hips swayed gently as she walked and reminded him of the perfectly heart-shaped rear pushing outward, begging to be
fucked two nights ago at the Club. His cock twitched at the memory.
“Fuck.” The expletive echoed through the quiet—mocking him as he struggled to force down his rising lust. He'd been more than tempted to taste her succulent lips. It had taken all his willpower to ignore the alluring temptation she offered—hence his contemptuous comment.
Alex frowned. He couldn't shake the feeling that Pamela was in trouble. He made a mental note to look into her current cases. If she needed protection, he’d be the one to offer it to her.
“You're so screwed, Alex White.”
A rough count of ninety police and forensic officers, FBI agents, and SWAT team members, all kit out in riot gear, gathered on the top floor of Precision Secure in the massive ballroom. None of them had any idea what the afternoon’s sting operation would entail. Savannah had ensured there was a spread of tea, coffee, and sodas to wash down the food. The tables were laden with platters filled with a variety of meats, pastries, and sandwiches.
The atmosphere was heavy with expectation as the men and women fed their hunger while they waited for the briefing to commence. Rhone and his team arrived precisely at noon. They went to stand in the front of the room.
“Settle down, please,” Alex’s deep voice boomed in the acoustic of the room. He waited until everyone quieted down. “Afternoon and thank you for your expediency to be here on time.” He looked around the faces. “You were all chosen because you have proven your competence in similar sting operations. This is a big one and we can’t afford any mistakes. Rhone Greer will take the lead and he runs a tight ship, so listen carefully and don’t hesitate to ask questions for clarity. We don’t want excuses later.”
“Yes, Gov’ner,” a unified call echoed in response.
Rhone stepped forward and briefly introduced his team, which consisted of Keon, Ethan, Max, Bruce, Lance, and Jim with ten of his team members.
“We’re going in hard and fast on this one. There will be civilians present, so be alert before you pull the trigger. I don’t want collateral damage if it can be avoided. Our aim is to shut down a suspected drug lab. Be prepared for hostile fire but don’t shoot to kill, if at all possible. We want the entire distribution channel that feeds off that facility. We need them alive to get locations out of them.”
Rhone pointed to a schematic that flicked on against the massive screen on the one wall. “We’ll have eight teams covering all possible entry points top level and two covering the tunnel underground.” He aimed a red laser toward the next image that indicated a 3D visual of the inside of the building. “The entrance into the lab is through that door that leads downstairs. We only move once the team below ground is in place.” He looked around the room. “This is a lockdown and recovery operation. In other words, we need to recover as much evidence as possible. Be aware that some of the people working in the lab could be there by force.”
Rhone continued to explain step by step details of the operation and gave out orders to each appointed team leader.
“We roll out at 1500. The sting will commence at 1530.” He looked around the room. “Any questions?” A low murmur followed but no one came forward. “Good. You have an hour to prepare your kit.”
Rhone and his team went back to the boardroom on the fourth floor. He immediately started pacing as the rest of the men loitered about. Everyone was too charged to sit down.
“The director of the shelter, Emily Sanchez,” Rhone said suddenly. “I almost fucked up.”
“Damn, yes,” Alex exclaimed as he too caught on. “She won’t be at the shelter and we can’t afford anyone tipping her off that the shelter has been raided.”
“I’ve got her home address from when we started the investigation,” Richard said as he searched the database. “There,” he connected the file with the monitor against the wall. “836 South Lincoln Street in Arlington. A quiet, nondescript neighborhood.”
“Alex, I want you and Lance to select a team from upstairs and do a tight raid. My gut tells me that her house is one of the stash properties. We need to cut her off before she gets word out to others, so, you need to move now. We need to coordinate the two operations to hit simultaneously.”
“Will do. Although, don’t think I don’t realize you’re asking us to keep us away from the real action,” Alex grumbled at Rhone.
“Partly, but I know both of you have instincts when it comes to a raid such as this and won’t let a crying woman sway you.”
“Of course,” Lance snorted. “Richard, you’ll be on point in the operations room to be our eyes and ears from the sky. Anything that looks suspicious, no matter how menial, you warn us.”
“I’m all over it, Lance.”
“Get a drone out there as well with heat sensors. I want to know how many bodies are in the house before we hit.”
“I’ll get a couple out to the shelter as well,” Richard said as he turned his wheelchair and rolled it toward the door. “The more angles we can cover from the air, the less chance we have of failing.”
“Good call, mate,” Max said as he pulled on a Kevlar vest and checked his weapons. He looked at Lance and Alex heading toward the door. “Oohah, mates.”
“Oohah,” they replied in unison and quickly gathered a team of ten of their own operatives to join the raid.
Alex drove around the block once to establish an accurate hit. The neighborhood was quiet, diverse, and residential which was the kind of environment drug runners needed. The kind of infrastructure and familiarity of community allowed them to blend in and conduct business.
“I suppose none of Sanchez’s neighbors suspect what she’s involved with,” Lance said, peering toward the house as they drove by.
“Yeah, drug runners love to live in normal neighborhoods and lead an unpretentious and quiet life.” Alex snorted as he glanced sideways. “Look at that house, you’ll never think anything of it. Least of all that it hordes drugs inside its walls,” he said.
"Yeah, they choose homes like this specifically not to call attention to it. There are no flashy vehicles out front. I suspect they only have a couple people come and go, like any normal family. Nothing to raise anyone’s suspicions.” Lance checked his weapons as Alex stopped behind the black SWAT van. He watched as the team spilled from the two back doors. He winked at Alex. “Let’s do this.”
“Your leg is still in a cast, Lance. Are you sure you’re up to this?”
Lance shot a sharp look at Alex. “Says he who winces every time he picks up something.” They chuckled. “I’ll be fine, mate. As will you.”
Alex gathered the team and did a quick recon on the operation.
“Alpha One and Two, I want you to cover the back and the left side of the house. Charlie Two, the garage and the right entrance. Charlie One is with us through the front door.” Alex tapped the earpiece. “Richard, report on the drone, please.”
“Inbound as we speak. One moment … ah, yes, it’s overhead. Lemme see. We’ve got three bodies inside, Alex. One in the corner room in the back to the left and two in the front to the right of the front door, which I assume is the lounge area.”
“Good. Any animals?” Lance checked the time.
“Negative. I checked the GeoEye system. Emily Sanchez arrived home an hour ago with her two teenage children.”
“Fuck, I didn’t expect that,” Lance rasped. He turned to the team. “Two teenagers inside. Be careful and don’t be trigger happy.”
“Countdown in ten minutes.”
“Thanks, Richard.” Alex turned to the tactical team. “We move in now and keep low until go time. Ready?” He waited for confirmation from everyone. Two fingers slashed forward. “It’s a go, move.”
The men divided silently into the four teams and stealthily made their way toward the house. They took cover once they got close. The minutes ticked by slowly. Their earpieces crackled and Rhone’s voice echoed gruffly.
“Counting down. Five, four, three, two and it’s a go. Go! Go!”
“No polite knocking,” A
lex said as they stormed toward the front door. He looked at the burly man at his side. “Kick it down, Justin.” He tapped the earpiece. “Confirm bodies positions, Richard.”
“Unchanged,” Richard said.
The door gave way under the heavy boot of the man that kicked it down without effort. The smashed door swung limply on its hinges as they surged inside. A flick of Alex’s wrist directed half of the team to the left as Lance and the rest of the team followed him to the right. Their entrance into the living room was met by Emily Sanchez and her daughter who had jumped up in fright as the door crashed back against the wall.
“Who are you? What do you want?” she shrieked. She hugged her daughter against her. “Darren! No,” she screamed as her son’s loud shouts echoed toward them. She surged forward but stopped abruptly as Alex raised the 9mm and aimed it at her chest.
“I suggest you cooperate, Mrs. Sanchez. Please … sit down.”
“House is secure, Charlie One,” Justin said as he pushed the struggling teenage boy toward his mother. The three of them sat down. Emily glowered at them. Her eyes shot to Alex.
“You have no right to invade my house!”
“Hand her the search warrant,” he rasped as he glanced around. Alex had arranged one on their way to the house. One of MPD’s best had delivered it to them at the rendezvous point.
Justin handed it over. She scanned the document. Her face turned pale.
“You’ll find nothing here. This is an insult! I’m a respectable woman. I run a shelter for the homeless. I feed them! How dare you insinuate that I have drugs on the property?”
Alex ignored her. “Justin, get the guys to work. I want every inch of this property turned over. Look for hidden panels, an attic, and an underground bunker even.”
“We know the drill, sir. If there’s anything here, we’ll find it.”
Emily Sanchez continued to protest but Alex shunned her again. He tapped the earpiece. “Richard, report on the shelter.”
“Confirmed entry. It’s quite heated over there, Alex. I don’t have anything to report at present except that there’s one helluva gunfight ensuing.”
