by Margaret Kay
“Thanks for the heads up. Do you know if Manning’s agent knew the names of my people?”
“He says no, but.”
There was a pause. “Understood. Thanks,” Shepherd said before disconnecting. His eyes were focused on Diana during the entire conversation. When he had exploded, cursing, he saw Diana stiffen and the expression on her face change. “I’m sorry.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss over her lips.
“Is your team okay?”
“The short answer is yes. I’m sorry if that call disturbed you.”
Diana shook her head. “Are you okay?”
“Okay, but pissed off. And worried about my team, if I’m being perfectly honest. I warned you that being with me may not always be easy.”
Diana saw the strength in Sam, but she also saw his vulnerability. He let her hear that call on purpose. She had to believe that he was thoughtful in all he did. She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m not going anywhere. Whatever you need from me, you tell me. Otherwise, I’m going back to sleep. I assume you have some work you will do this evening?”
Shepherd’s lips tipped into a grin. She really was something. “Nothing right now, thank you, but I’ll let you know. I have two calls to make. I’ll go to my office, so you are not disturbed. I’ll try not to wake you when I come back to bed.” He placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
“Or do wake me,” she said with a smile and a suggestive eyebrow raise.
Shepherd chuckled. Oh, one of the many benefits of having Diana in his life. “We’ll see what time it is when I come back to bed.”
He pulled a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants on and rolled to his office down the hall from the bedroom. As he flipped his computer on, his phone rang. Manning. He instantly decided to play it aggressive. Manning fucked up by telling his undercover man about his team. “My condolences on the loss of your man.” The tone of his voice was harsh.
“I should have known you would already know. Chamberlin?”
“He said your man knew about my team? What the hell, Manning?”
“He knew a military law enforcement team was engaged, that’s all. He didn’t know how many, names, or any other specifics. I’m not stupid, Shepherd. Of course, I knew this could be a possibility, a very unlikely possibility. My man was under for over a year, worked his way up on the organization. Sonofabitch! He was a good man.”
“What was the last intel he passed you?”
“We got word earlier this evening from an intermediary that our man reported the drugs were on base and getting transferred onto the ships today, Tuesday. That was the last report from him late Sunday night. He gave us the codename Williamsboro as to who got the drugs onto base and would get them on those ships. We don’t have it in our database. I contacted Chamberlin and Mason with it when we got it. They’re both looking into it too.”
Shepherd plugged that into Google. “It’s a township in both North Carolina and New Jersey.” Nothing else came up on the search. He’d have Smith look into it more. Perhaps the person on base smuggling the drugs onto the ships was originally from Williamsboro? Though that seemed too easy. “The ships will be doing their final supply loads today in prep to sail tomorrow. There’s no way to inspect every crate being loaded, and that would arouse too much suspicion. And why is now the first I’m hearing that the drugs were already on base?”
“The intermediary was delayed in transferring the report from our man. We just found out about an hour before our man’s remains were found.”
“I want to interview your intermediary,” Shepherd demanded.
“Not possible,” Manning argued. “That would compromise her.”
“Figure a way to do it without compromising her.”
“Your man, Garcia, could make contact and not expose her. I’d arrange that.”
Now, Shepherd’s curiosity was really piqued. Why would Manning want to drag Garcia into this?
“Garcia is on a different case, can’t pull him,” Shepherd said, checking his watch. The truth of the matter was that he could. The Lear was in the air and was scheduled to drop the three members of Charlie Team back at Bull Shoals before it returned Garcia to HQ. He could divert it to Norfolk and have Garcia on the ground by sunup.
“With his background, he’s the only one I’d trust to make contact with her and not blow her cover.”
“Is she an agent too?”
“No, an asset our man trusted. She’s strategically placed. She was completely broken up. She’s the one who found him.”
“We could bring her in, get her protection and relocation if she has intel that is actionable,” Shepherd said.
“She may. The truth is, I don’t know what she may have. And I don’t know if she’d want to relocate. Are you sure there is no way to get Garcia onsite?”
Shepherd considered it for a moment. He wouldn’t send Garcia in alone. He’d have one of the other members from Charlie Team tag along. “I could finagle that. He’s in the air right now. I’ll divert his flight. I’ll be back in touch before he lands with his ETA. I’ll want a car for him and full disclosure on this intermediary by you, before he engages.”
“I’ll send the file over to you now,” Manning said.
A second later, his inbox chimed with a new secure message from Manning. “Just got it. I’ll be in touch.”
He brought up the program he had that tracked his aircraft. The Lear was half-way to Bull Shoals. He placed a call to the Lear as he opened the message and decrypted it. Sonofabitch! Now he understood why Manning would trust Garcia. “Captain, I need you to divert to Hampton Roads.”
“Before the personnel drop at Bull Shoals?”
“Affirmative,” Shepherd replied. “I’ll notify my teams. Please advise me of your ETA when you have it.”
“Will do,” the captain replied.
Then Shepherd placed a call to the secure equipment in the passenger section of the Lear. Garcia’s very groggy voice answered. “Sorry to wake you,” Shepherd said. “We have a situation.” He filled Garcia in on what he knew. Then he relayed the contents of the file Manning sent. “The intermediary is someone you are familiar with, Rae Ella Easton. She’s working as a bartender at the location the murdered agent said was a primary contact point for the drug gang.”
“Fuck me!” Garcia exploded, waking the three others in the cabin who slept. “So, she didn’t make it out after all.”
“Or she slipped back into old habits,” Shepherd said.
“Or the DEA fucked her over,” Garcia charged.
“Only one way to find out. Make contact with her. See what she has. See if she wants out. St. Vincent owes us. If she wants out, extract her, and we’ll figure it out later. The important thing is getting the intel before those ships sail tomorrow.”
“Affirmative,” Garcia replied. “I want Taco to go in with me.”
“He’s yours,” Shepherd agreed. “Let the rest of the team know. Powder and Moe will get dropped back off at Bull Shoals after you and Taco are delivered to Norfolk.”
Next, Shepherd placed a call to Ops to notify them of the change. Smith was on with Miraldi. He also gave Smith his assignment of chasing down the codename of Williamsboro that Manning gave him. “I know this is a longshot but see if anyone on that base is from either Williamsboro North Carolina or New Jersey.”
“Roger,” Smith acknowledged. “I’ll work all night on it.”
Then Shepherd sent a text to the team on the ground in Norfolk advising them of all the developments. There was nothing left to do but go back to sleep. As he headed down the hallway towards his bedroom, he remembered that Diana waited in his bed for him. A smile came to his face with this realization.
He entered the room and rolled up to the bed. Diana slept soundly, embracing his pillow. He slid between the sheets and took her into his arms. She stirred but didn’t wake. He would let her sleep. The contentment he felt was incredible.
The alarm sounded at five a.m. It woke Diana from a deep sleep. Shepherd had bee
n awake for five minutes. His body and mind were programmed to wake early. “Good morning,” he said after he silenced the alarm.
“Good morning,” she echoed. “I didn’t hear you come back to bed. How long were you up?”
“Under an hour. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. I think I went right back to sleep after you got that call. Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Today will be a busy day for me, I’m sure.”
“We better get up and do your therapy.” She rolled onto her stomach and held her head over his. “Do your exercises three times today, no matter what.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he sounded off like he addressed a senior officer.
Her kiss was soft in response.
Fifteen minutes later, they were in the adjoining workout room focusing on his new exercise routine. Diana reminded him to keep his back at a neutral position. Arching it and forcing the bones at L-4 and L-5 back against his spinal cord, pinching it, had to be avoided at all costs. After the session, she gave him another adjustment to draw the bones back and away from his spinal cord, followed by a short stretching session.
He was physically exhausted from the effort, the dead bug exercise again pushing him to the brink of his physical limits. “I’m looking forward to a nice hot shower,” he said when Diana indicated they were done for the morning.
“I could use one too,” she smiled and waggled her eyebrows at him. “Mind if I join you?”
“That will be the highlight of my day,” he said. And then he led her to the master bathroom.
“I can be in the shower for twenty minutes. That’s it. Do you have any energy and strength left?”
Her smile was as suggestive as her words. Shepherd was instantly re-energized.
Cooper came into Shepherd’s office just before noon. “I’m not late, am I?”
“No, Garcia hasn’t made contact yet. They just finished wiring him. We’ll have video and audio.”
Cooper settled in at the conference table. Shepherd could see he was amped up. He understood. Cooper wanted to be on the ground, not sitting here observing. It was in his blood and he was good at it. But he was needed at HQ and if he liked it or not, he would have to spend more time running things from here.
“Okay, initiating Op,” Garcia’s voice came over the speaker and the camera switched on, displaying the dashboard of a car. “We’re one block from the bar, The Dark Spot, catchy name.”
“Razor and I are going in together,” Jimmy ‘Taco’ Wilson’s voice came as the camera feed focused through the windshield and the car moved forward.
Shepherd watched the feed as the two men entered the Dark Spot. It was your typical neighborhood bar in a rough neighborhood. He saw the brunette behind the bar. Her eyes bugged out of her head at the sight of Razor coming through the door. Shepherd thought for a moment she’d blow his cover.
“Raphael!” She exclaimed with a distinct Texas twang. She jumped over the bar and rushed up to him, flinging her body at him. She embraced him with a powerful grip. Once her lips were at his ear she whispered, “what the hell are you doing here?” Her tone was not friendly.
“Sweetheart, you look as fine as always,” he said aloud. “Need your help,” he whispered. “How the fuck have you been?” He asked after planting a kiss on her lips.
“I’ve been,” she said, giving him a wary stare. She took him by the hand and led him to the bar. She ducked back behind it and grabbed two shot glasses and a bottle of Jack. She poured the shots. Her eyes, rimmed with thick black eyeliner, were still on Garcia, but she nodded to Taco. “Who’s your friend?”
“Just a friend. You can trust him. I can get you out,” he said softly. “If that’s what you want.”
“Like you did last time? Please,” she said at a barely audible level.
Shepherd couldn’t tell if she was agreeing or being sarcastic. The camera panned the interior. Four other men sat at the bar and a couple of twitchy strung-out junkies sat at one of the small tables.
“I heard about what happened, heard he was a good guy,” Garcia said quietly and then downed the shot.
Shepherd saw tears fill her eyes. “He was.”
“Help us get who did this to him,” Garcia implored. “Rae Ella, you know you can trust me.”
“It has to be here and now. I’m not playing no waiting games, not going to find out anything else for you.”
Shepherd saw what he judged to be genuine fear pass over her face.
“She’s terrified,” Cooper remarked.
“Done,” Garcia said. “Smoke break out back?”
Shepherd watched the woman pour them both another shot. She shook her head towards the back of the bar. “I can go on break in a few minutes for a smoke.” Her voice was a normal speaking volume.
The camera view shifted to Taco.
“Bring the car around back through the alley. We’ll meet you there,” Garcia’s low voice spoke.
Shepherd watched Wilson down the freshly poured shot and then he moved towards the front door.
“You look good, Raph,” she said, her lips drawing into a smile. “I wasn’t sure you were still alive.”
“Takes more than that shit that went down to end me.” He tapped his glass.
She filled it and Wilson’s. She downed the spare as Garcia pounded the one in front of him. Then he set a couple of twenties to the bar. Through the camera feed Shepherd watched her take it to the register and ring it up, bringing back a few bills change.
“Keep it,” Garcia said.
She smiled and stuffed it into her pocket. “I’m taking a smoke break, Tubbs,” she yelled to the barrel-chested man at the end of the bar.
“You only been on shift for an hour, El.”
“Yeah, and I’m taking a smoke break before we get busy.” She grabbed her cell phone and a pack of cigarettes from the backbar. “Back this way,” she summoned Garcia.
Shepherd watched the others in the bar carefully as Garcia passed them, keeping the camera on them, which meant Garcia kept his eyes on them as well. The barrel-chested guy slipped behind the bar as Rae Ella vacated it. He moved like he could handle himself. One of the other guys who sat at the bar was dangerous too. He had an edge Shepherd knew well. The two others were old, out of shape drunks, way past whatever they were in their prime. And the two twitchy chicks turned out to be a thin, long-haired, very effeminate dude and a skanky chick, meth heads he was sure.
Garcia stepped out of the bar and into the filthy alley behind Rae. There were three homeless people spilling out of trash bag tents with their belongings stuffed in shopping carts. A fourth man laid on his side, curled up next to a dumpster. Used needles littered the ground, co-mingled with broken beer bottles and other miscellaneous trash.
Rae Ella lit up a cigarette and blew the smoke straight up into the air. Garcia’s head and the camera were on the swivel. Shepherd watched, his heart thumping in his chest. Something felt off. By the way Garcia surveyed the area, he was sure Garcia felt it too.
“I’m not liking that dude snoozing near the dumpster,” Cooper said.
“Unless he passed out as he walked by it, that isn’t anywhere anyone would choose to sleep,” Shepherd agreed.
Garcia walked towards the dumpster. With his head and the camera angled downward, he kicked the unconscious man with the toe of his boot. Through the camera, Shepherd saw that Garcia held his .40 caliber Glock pointed at the man. The guy didn’t move. He didn’t moan. Didn’t even flinch. He appeared to be out cold or he was dead.
Then his eyes and the camera view swept over the three homeless trash bag tent dwellers. Only one of them reacted to seeing the gun, wide eyed and pressing his back harder against the wall behind him. Though they were watching, the two others weren’t fazed by it. The car, with Taco behind the wheel, approached. Garcia scanned the area again. All seemed quiet.
As the car pulled up beside them, the back door to the bar swung open with a loud thud as it hit the wall beside it. The barrel-chested ma
n, she’d called Tubbs, stepped out, gun in hand. Gunfire erupted. Bullets hit the wall behind Rae Ella, who dropped into a squat and covered her head with her arms. Garcia rushed back to her and shielded her body with his own as he returned fire, striking Tubbs, center mass. He pulled Rae Ella to her feet.
More gunshots echoed through the alley. Rae Ella screamed out. Garcia’s head and the camera view snapped away from Tubbs’ body, now lying on the ground, to Rae Ella. Her hand clutched her right shoulder, and the area was already saturated with blood. Then his view and the camera went to Wilson, who was out of the car. His aim was on one of the garbage bag tents, its occupant’s body laid beside it, a revolver discarded beside him.