by Margaret Kay
“You too,” she replied and then ended the call. She turned the light out and then snuggled into the super soft blanket. She hadn’t noticed before how soft it felt against her cheek.
Jackson got off his call with Angel shortly after Garcia hung up with Sienna. Jackson turned and smiled a knowing grin. “So, she’s worried about you being out in the field?”
“Yeah, said she couldn’t go to sleep without telling me she cared about me.”
Jackson nodded. “I’ll have Angel talk with her tomorrow. It’s completely normal, her worrying.”
“I know.” Garcia ran his hand through his short hair, appreciating the short locks. “I remember in the early days with Angel,” he paused and shook his head. “She worried about you so much. She used to corner me before every mission and make me promise I had your back.”
Jackson chuckled. “And Lassiter kept her on Xanax for six months!”
Garcia chuckled again too. “I never thought I’d have what you do, but now I am hopeful.”
“You already have it, man,” Jackson said. “You have a lady you’re crazy about and she feels the same. Next thing you know you’ll be married with a kid of your own.”
Garcia laughed with Jackson. “One thing at a time. Don’t rush it.”
Jackson’s face took a more serious expression. “Angel is all worried about Sammy not interacting with other kids, so she is hoping some of our friends have a kid,” he said with his voice low, nodding his head to the next room where Madison and Cooper slept. And she’s already freaking out about having to send him to daycare or preschool at some point.”
“Jeez, that’s not even in the next few years, is it?” Garcia didn’t know anything about at what age little kids did what, but the baby was only three months old. He had wondered how the baby being at the office was going to work when he was sleeping less or walking. But he never thought Angel and Jackson would put him into some random daycare center. He assumed Angel’s Aunt Meredith would watch him when her cousin Debbie’s baby came. Then Jackson’s meaning dawned on him. “Yeah, I don’t see them having a kid anytime soon. Madison isn’t ready to give up working in the field.”
“No, I don’t see it either, and unlike Angel and me, they won’t have an accidental pregnancy.”
“Sammy wasn’t planned?” Garcia asked.
“No, it shocked us both. Don’t get me wrong, he’s amazing and I’m glad he’s here, but we weren’t trying to get pregnant. It just happened.”
Garcia chuckled a low rumble. “You do know how that happened, don’t you?”
“Fuck you, man,” Jackson said with a laugh. “Yes, I know how it happens, and how to prevent it, but fortunately, the birth control failed. It happens to the best of us,” Jackson said with a nod to Garcia.
“Sienna’s on the pill. I’ve watched her take it almost every day.”
“So was Angel.”
That was a sobering thought. Garcia didn’t say a word. He just moved back in front of his laptop and got back to work. To the side of him sat two more monitors that were tied into the operations at the railyard and a third with rotating surveillance footage. The next load that they were interested in wasn’t due in for another two hours.
Every so often, the thought of that permanent relationship with Sienna crept into his thoughts. With her admission that she did miss him, he was encouraged that she just might stay with him when this was over. And if it wasn’t safe for her to go home, he knew Shepherd would work out a new identity for her, with him, just as Shepherd had for Angel with Jackson.
It was several hours later when Madison and Cooper woke to take over surveillance. Cooper would go into the main office where all incoming trains, and the switching, were tracked and coordinated. Madison would provide observation and digital recon from the room, just as had been the case with Jackson and Garcia overnight. The four of them were covering the railroad transfer station.
Garcia brought Madison and Cooper up to speed on what had occurred while they slept. The operation at the railyard ran twenty-four seven. Overnight, nothing suspicious came through, and the traffic had been light. Jackson had only personally inspected three containers whose paperwork was less than up to par or had originated south of the border.
Garcia and Jackson laid down on the beds in the adjoining room to try and get four or five hours of sleep. They both knew this could go on for a week or more. Mendoza and Juan Carlos weren’t even in town yet, though no one knew how much sooner the drugs arrived than either of them. Garcia’s last thought before drifting off was of Sienna, remembering the sensation of holding her in his arms as he drifted off. He’d never known a peace like that before.
At Midway Airport, the three-man team of Mother, the Birdman, and Powder were doing something similar. They rotated eight hour shifts in the main office of the air cargo line Garcia had identified, while one provided remote digital recon and support, and the third man slept. So far, no flights in or their cargo had flagged as suspicious. Neither of those target planes Garcia had identified were in yet, but they wanted to be in place investigating before either arrived.
One of the operations managers was less than accommodating. He was vocal that he didn’t like these men asking questions. He didn’t care what badge they carried. It was his opinion that they slowed operations, and time was money. Currently, Mother was at his computer doing a deep dive on the man. Nothing in his financials looked suspicious, but he’d keep looking, just to be sure. Whoever was enabling the drugs in was more than likely very well paid to look the other way.
At the Sanitary Canal and Port area, Doc, Lambchop and the Undertaker were stretched even thinner. They each were only able to catch four-hour catnaps in between covering the main office and the inspection areas where the freighters were unloaded. The Port Authority had been very accommodating and had provided the team with the full schedule of expected arrivals as well as open access to all areas.
The first boat they were expecting came in early, just hours before. They scoured every inch of it. It was clean. But it had taken hours to come to that conclusion. They weren’t taking any shipment for granted though. They would recon every ship and watch every shipment leave the grounds. Thankfully, there were only six per twenty-four-hour cycle due.
Another cargo ship had just docked at the second unloading facility, across the canal. This one would take a lot more time to go through. It was stacked with shipping containers that would be offloaded directly onto semi-trailers, and from there, hauled away in hundreds of directions. All three men were onsite to go over this load before and as it was discharged. Port authorities routinely used drug sniffing dogs, but if the handler was on the take, he’d know which containers to avoid. The team carefully watched to be sure this wouldn’t be the case.
Many hours later, the ship and its contents were cleared. Doc watched the steady stream of semis haul the containers away as the sun crested the horizon with the first rays of a brand-new day. He sipped his cup of coffee and considered how long this could take. Mendoza and Juan Carlos weren’t even in the city yet, not to say the drugs weren’t. It would give them quite an advantage to find the drugs before the men arrived.
He was anxious for this case to be over. He knew Shepherd had several pending cases that were more along the lines of the normal cases they worked. This operation had drug on too long, not that drugs in the United States wasn’t a crisis, it was, it was just that, they weren’t drug enforcement. They had other skills for situations that few others could do. Running just Bravo and Charlie Teams on them wasn’t efficient. And Charlie Team was way behind on the installation of the monitoring equipment at the power facilities.
Later that afternoon, the teams got the announcement they were waiting for. “Game on, Mr. Freeze just arrived in Chicago,” Yvette’s voice broadcast to all team members through their comms. “DEA and the tracker both confirm. He checked into a shitty motel near Midway.”
“I’ve got confirmation the Joker and the Riddler are still on
course,” BT’s voice came next. “ETA to the loop, two hours.”
“How’s that cipher coming Razor?” Shepherd’s voice was then heard.
“I’m still working it,” Garcia replied. “I’ve got two more things to try before I give up.”
“Keep on it,” Shepherd said. “The rest of you, heads up. If this is like last fall, something will be going down in the next few days.
“We may want to be prepared to deploy a unit to Millennium Park to see if there is a handoff like last year,” Madison suggested.
“Not a bad idea,” Shepherd agreed. “I’ll have two members of Charlie Team on standby for that.”
They observed the three men in Chicago for two days. They behaved as they had the previous fall, visiting dive-bars and known drug houses. The next morning, the three men converged on Millennium Park, just as Mendoza and Diaz had the previous fall. The men from Shepherd Security handled it differently this time, knowing what to expect. Taco sat back and photographed the hand off. It went down as smoothly as it had the previous fall.
“What the hell do you think they are handing off in those bags?” Taco said from the hill overlooking the drop site. He sat on the grass dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, looking like everyone else in the park. Only his partner Rich ‘Handsome’ Burke, Shepherd, and Ops were online.
“Cash, location of the shipment, keys, it could be anything,” BT replied from Ops. “Hand-off complete,” he broadcast to all the units covering the three locations.
“And Mr. Freeze has pulled keys from his new backpack and has just found his shiny new silver Volvo in the same lot as last Fall,” Handsome broadcast several minutes later, his voice laced with a distinctive southern accent. “These guys are more predictable than law enforcement.” He read the license number as it passed him, and he watched the car until Mendoza turned the next corner and was out of sight.
“Let’s all be ready. Mendoza slipped away from the DEA within hours of the handoff last fall,” Shepherd ordered. Obviously, that wouldn’t be the case this year as they had the tracker in him, but the timing was crucial as it could mean the location of the shipment could be learned very soon. He hoped so, anyway.
Later that afternoon, after Garcia came on shift, he called Sienna to check in before he got too immersed in his work. He was tired, hadn’t slept too well that day. He chugged a cup of strong coffee to help. Sienna was holding up, going just a little stir-crazy being confined to the building, but he appreciated that she was projecting to him that she was handling it okay. He’d have Jackson check with Angel later to see how she was really doing.
“I just wish I could go outside and get some fresh air,” Sienna said.
“Soon, I promise,” he replied as he sat back down by the computers.
Jackson reentered the room carrying a bag with take-out in it. There was a diner nearby that served breakfast twenty-four hours a day. Jackson handed the plastic container to Garcia followed by a pack of plastic utensils. He popped the lid open and inhaled the scent of the Mexican omelet.
“I’m not complaining,” she insisted.
Garcia laughed. “Sweetheart, you haven’t complained about anything. I’m proud of you. You’re handling this like a trooper.”
She chuckled softly. “I don’t think so but thank you. I better let you get to work.”
“Yeah, and Jackson just brought some eats. I’ll try to check in with you later tonight before you go to sleep. I hope you have a good day.”
“Thanks, you too. And don’t worry about me. I’m okay, not ready to break out of here quite yet.”
He chuckled at that. They ended the call and he ate quickly, while scrolling through the computer logs to see the results of several searches he had left running while he slept. Nothing. He’d been out of the hacking game for six months. Had he lost his skills? He would admit he was getting frustrated that he hadn’t cracked either of the two things he was tasked with.
Sierra
“Mendoza slipped quietly out of the city,” Shepherd said.
The four of them stationed at the railyard huddled around the laptop screen.
“We tracked him north near the Wisconsin state line into a remote area in the Chain-of-Lakes area. He’s stationary in a boarded up, vacant bar out in the middle of nowhere. The place shows utility usage and even an internet connection. Its ownership is as sketchy as New Mountain Enterprises, speaking of which, how is that search coming Garcia.”
“Slowly,” Garcia replied.
“Cooper and Jackson, pick Mother up from Midway. I’ve got no one else to deploy up there, so I’m sending you three. I’m hoping Mendoza leaves at some point, so we can go in and look,” Shepherd said.
“Roger that,” Cooper acknowledged.
“Garcia, I put in the request to get you access to the CIA back-up files. I’ll let you know as soon as it’s approved.”
“Thanks, Shep. It’s the last thing I can think of to try. If I can’t get access, we’re done.”
“I’ll push harder.”
Several hours later, Garcia was still trying to reset the cipher. Madison was in the main office. He monitored her and the activities in the trainyard on one laptop. He was finally given access into the CIA back-up files. On a second laptop, he accessed the saved file in the logs five days prior to Vargas disabling the first question on the cipher with the wrong answers. He brought the untouched cipher up and began plugging the answers in, that Sienna had provided. When he got to number ten, he had to call her.
“Hello,” she answered excitedly on the first ring.
“Hi Sweetheart. How are you?” He asked.
“I’m okay,” she replied. “I miss you.” She breathed out heavily, waiting his reply. She hadn’t meant to say that so bluntly.
Garcia chuckled. “I miss you too. Hopefully, we will wrap up soon.”
“I hope so too,” she said.
“What are you doing right now?”
“I’m just lying in bed reading. I’ve finally gotten into this book.”
“I got the cipher restored and got all the answers plugged in, except to the last question.”
She groaned on the other end of the phone.
“If you won’t say it aloud, text it to me,” he said. “You know we need this.”
“I know. Okay, I’ll text it.”
He laughed at her reticence. He put his phone on speaker and then switched over to his text messages. He waited. “It hasn’t come through yet.”
She sighed. “Fine.”
He envisioned the blush that would have formed over her cheeks and smiled at the thought of it. It was cute and refreshing that she blushed the way she did. She was much different than any of the women he had been with over the last decade.
When her text message popped in, Garcia had to restrain his laughter. “Duly noted, Sweetheart.”
“Are we done?” She scoffed.
“Yes. I’ll talk to you later. And thank you,” he said. When he disconnected, he reread her text, a vibrating penis ring. He chuckled out loud. Yeah, he would be getting his hands on one of those.
He plugged that answer in and the whole of the text, displayed. Several pages filled in below the original coded section. Several hyperlinks were buried in the text. One launched a page that had several documents listed in a directory. He clicked on the document titled New Mountain Enterprises. The document that opened outlined the complete path of ownership of shell companies that led to the New Mountain Enterprises property. He’d chase down the names later, but at the end were the names and addresses of ten owners. They resided in five different states.
“Holy shit,” he remarked aloud.
As he went through the document, through the links, and all the information, he saved everything to a secured partition on his hard drive and to a separate thumb drive. He didn’t upload any of it to the Shepherd Security servers yet. He needed to run scans on it all to be sure there were no viruses, malware, or programs that would spy on or disable their network.
He also had an audio link into Ops that he was listening to. The team that deployed north had held position for over an hour waiting for darkness and to see if Mendoza would leave the building. “Mendoza is on the move,” Cooper broadcast.
Garcia glanced out the window. It was dark out. When had that happened? He’d been so focused on his work he didn’t realize how much time passed. He glanced at the clock in the corner of the laptop. It was twenty-one hundred. Going back to the last link in the original file, he opened it.
“Move in,” BT in Ops ordered.
“Roger,” Cooper said. “Moving in on target building now.”
Garcia read through the document. It listed hundreds of properties all over the United States. Three quarters of the way down he came to a bar in the Chain-of-Lakes area Cooper, Jackson, and Mother were at. He dialed Ops. “BT, is the target building on Marcus Avenue?”