Operation: Healing Angel

by Margaret Kay

  Once behind the wheel of his SUV, he placed a call to his contact, Undersecretary Kahlter with the Department of Homeland Security. “This is Shepherd. I’m taking the lead on an investigation in the Chicago area. I’ve identified myself to the local LEOs as the AIC. I don’t have a case number for you yet, too soon, but my entire team is engaged, if you would please notify the other agencies. We’re en route to confront and arrest the suspect.”

  “Arrest or kill?” Kahlter asked.

  “That will be up to him. I’ll have a full report on your desk ASAP. My Ops analyst will send you the info you need for the warrant.” His voice was matter of fact.

  “I’ll have a warrant sent to your phone before you arrive. Good luck,” Kahlter said. “Godspeed to your team.”

  “Thank you, Mister Undersecretary.” After he disconnected the phone, he spoke again. “Yvette, please send Rosenblum’s info to Kahlter.”

  “Roger, already drafting the text to him,” she replied.

  His mind shifted to the operation. His adrenalin evened out as he drove towards their target, the Lake Michigan facing condo. In his ear he heard the team’s normal pre-mission chatter. Delta Team was now on comms too.

  “We meet in the parking lot and don our agency lettered vests. Handguns and assault rifles approved for this operation. We establish a perimeter. The Birdman and Jax will maintain that perimeter and be backup as the rest of us proceed to the tenth floor where our target lives,” he ordered.

  “Do you really think the suspect would be stupid enough to be taking her to his primary residence?” Doc asked.

  “He sent men after her last time. He would have done the same this time. He wouldn’t have gotten his hands dirty with the Molotov cocktail or the kidnapping. Plus, I’ve seen this guy at her practice. His back is fucked up. He’s not capable of physically doing anything himself. He’s having his thugs bring her to him.”

  “He could have separated her phone from her. We could be following a garbage truck for all we know,” Lambchop said.

  “He didn’t do even a minimum of intel gathering to know who I was. We have to assume he’s not too perspicacious. We hit primary residence first if her phone signal tracks anywhere near it. We assume it’s still on her until we find otherwise,” Shepherd said. “If there is no contact there, we scramble Charlie Team to his business address. Control, put Charlie Team on alert.”

  “Roger that, Big Bear,” Yvette replied.

  “And if he’s there, but not Diana?” Lambchop asked.

  “Then Delta takes him and breaks him by any means necessary,” Shepherd replied. His voice was emotionless.

  “If this asshole has her, I’d like a crack at him too,” Garcia said.

  “You and me both, Razor,” Shepherd said. “But I know better than to lay a hand on him. It won’t end well if I do. I’m too emotionally involved.”

  “I’m sending Rosenblum’s picture to each of your phones,” Yvette’s voice came through their comms. “Along with the description of his vehicles including license plate numbers.”

  “Thank you, Yvette,” Shepherd replied. “We’ll be onsite in fifteen minutes.”

  It was the longest fifteen minutes of Shepherd’s life.

  The black hood was pulled from her head. Her eyes adjusted to the bright light in the room and she surveyed the man standing in front of her. “Ben?” Diana questioned, shocked, dismayed, petrified.

  “Doctor Diana,” he said calmly.

  Her gaze whipped around the tastefully decorated living room and out the large floor to ceiling windows at the lake and the boats that dotted it. There were three other men in the room that she didn’t recognize. One of the men wore his arm in a sling. The man beside her wore clothes she recognized though, blue jeans and a black zip up hoodie. It was the man who grabbed her and forced her into the car before the black hood was placed on her head, blinding her.

  Her wrists were still tied together. She glanced down. It was duct tape wound around them. “Why?” Was the only word she could get out past her constricted throat. She recognized the terror gripping her vocal cords.

  “I need to know who you told about that text message you saw on my phone?” Ben said, his voice still a chilling calm that heightened the fear she felt.

  “What text? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “On the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, I was in your office and I received a text message. I inadvertently left the display function enabled while I was in your office and my phone fell from my pocket during our session. You picked it up from the floor. The screen was in clear view, and you handed it back to me. Do you remember now?”

  “I barely recall it, and no, I didn’t read it,” Diana insisted.

  Ben Rosenblum shook his head, a scowl etched deeply in his features. “Come now, Doctor Diana. It was four words. You did not have to actively read it to have understood it. Spagno neutralized. Payment expected.”

  Diana shook her head. That meant nothing to her and no, she had not read or even noticed the text that had been on his phone’s screen. “It means nothing to me,” she maintained.

  “It was all over the news all weekend. Arthur Spagnolo, customs agent at O’Hare International Airport found dead in his home, shot execution style.”

  “Sam and I didn’t watch any television Friday night, and we left early for the cabin Saturday morning. I never saw any of that news. I never saw that text on your phone.”

  “I thought you were much more observant than that. You had to see it and it registered on some level, I’m sure. So, I ask you again, and your life depends on it. You told no one about that text?”

  “No!” Diana screamed, realizing she did now and was as good as dead. “This was all unnecessary. I didn’t see it. I told no one. I’ll tell no one about any of this. I promise.” She could see in his eyes that he didn’t believe her. Or perhaps what she saw was that he did, but he’d still have to kill her because she now knew.

  She watched Ben Rosenblum nod to his men. Two of them began to unroll plastic sheeting onto the floor. The third man screwed a silencer onto the barrel of his pistol. Ice water filled her veins and her lungs wouldn’t inflate as she tried to draw a breath in.

  “Get the gang box to put her in,” Rosenblum ordered.

  Diana watched the two men drop the roll of plastic and leave the room.

  The small caravan of vehicles arrived at the target building. There was a parking garage as well as a parking lot behind the building. Its front faced Lake Michigan.

  “Parking lot or garage?” Garcia asked over comms.

  “Garage,” Shepherd answered. “They didn’t bring her into the building by walking her across the parking lot in the open. And we aren’t going in that way either.”

  “We’re on scene, Control,” Lambchop broadcast.

  “Roger, I’m monitoring and will contact the LEOs or other federal authorities as well as EMS if needed.”

  Shepherd’s SUV pulled up to the garage, manned by a security desk. Shepherd flashed his badge and identified himself. “This and the next four vehicles will need access. Do you keep a log of your tenants’ vehicles in and out?”

  “Yes, sir,” the attendant said.

  “Ben Rosenblum, unit number ten-zero-eight. Is his vehicle in the garage?”

  The man tapped on his keyboard. “Yes, both his car and his work van are in their parking spots.”

  “Thank you,” Shepherd said. “No one in or out of this garage until we’re done. Lock it down.”

  “Um, I don’t know if I can,” he stammered.

  “I said lock it down,” Shepherd repeated more forcefully. “Do you want to be responsible for someone getting killed?”

  The man shook his head, a fearful look on his face.

  “And where are Rosenblum’s vehicles parked?”

  “Southwest corner near the elevators, this parking level,” the attendant answered, pointing.

  Shepherd pulled to a stop behind the white Ford Tran
sit Cargo Van. He pulled his bulletproof vest on with the letters HSI displayed. Then he liberated his AR-15 from its case. By the time he closed the back end of his SUV, the remainder of the team were parked close to his vehicle and they were donning vests and arming themselves as well.

  “Garcia, pop the van open.” He motioned to the white cargo van.

  “First, let us pray,” Lambchop said. The men gathered close. “Father God wrap your daughter, Diana, in your protective embrace. Watch over her and fill her with your spirit to calm any fear she has. Shield and keep all innocent lives from harm and protect this team throughout this operation. We ask this in the name of your son, Jesus Christ. Amen,” Lambchop said.

  Shepherd drank in every word. Lambchop’s words affected him in a different way than ever before. The plea was for Diana’s safety, the woman he loved. “Amen. Thank you, Reverend.” His eyes swept over his team. “We do this by the numbers. Stay on your toes and cover each other’s six.” Then he pointed to the van. “Pop it.”

  Garcia inserted the tool. Two seconds later, the door was open. He silenced the car alarm. A quick search and they located Diana’s tote bag in the back. Her phone was in it. Shepherd documented the search and seizure with pictures taken with his phone. Then he threw her bag into his Navigator, his anger multiplying. Then he crossed the garage, the elevators his destination.

  “We’ll meet you on ten,” Lambchop announced. Then he, Sloan, and Mother disappeared behind the door to the stairwell.

  “How do you want to play it at the door, Shep?” Doc asked.

  Shepherd glanced at Doc and Garcia. “For charges to stick, we play it by the numbers. Knock and announce ourselves before we breach. We’ll have Lambchop kick the door.”

  They waited at the end of the hallway for Delta Team to join them.

  “Doc and Garcia, you maintain this position and provide us backup,” Shepherd ordered. Then he led Lambchop, Mother, and the Undertaker to the door of Ben Rosenblum’s residence. “I’ll knock and announce us. Lambchop, you immediately kick the door in. Mother, you’re first in, I’m next, then Lambchop. Undertaker, you provide us cover while we breach, then follow me. By the numbers, gentlemen.”

  They took up position around the door. Shepherd raised his fist and pounded three times on the door. “Federal agents with a warrant!” He turned the doorknob. It was locked.

  Lambchop kicked the door in. It flew open and crashed against the wall. Mother rushed past him; his weapon held at the ready as he entered.

  “Federal agents with a warrant,” Shepherd repeated as he also rushed in.

  Mother went right. He went straight in. The hallway opened into a large living room. In front of the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the lake was the target, Ben Rosenblum. He stood behind Diana, a gun to her head. He saw the terror in Diana’s tear-filled eyes. “Target and hostage located, living room,” he reported. He heard footsteps behind him.

  “On your six, Big Bear,” the Undertaker said.

  He heard gunshots from the direction Mother and Lambchop went. “One Tango down,” Mother reported. “Searching the remainder of the residence.”

  “Roger,” Shepherd said. “Drop it, Rosenblum. It’s over. You’re not walking out of here with her.”

  “I’m not going out in handcuffs,” Rosenblum said.

  Two more shots sounded from somewhere in the residence. “Two more Tangos in custody,” Lambchop’s voice came through Shepherd’s comms.

  “The man behind me is a top-notch military sniper, proven deadly accurate. He can take you out in a second. You are not safe behind Diana. Now drop the weapon,” Shepherd said calmly. The target shifted position, trying to conceal himself more fully behind her. “Drop it or I give the order for him to drop you, Rosenblum,” Shepherd repeated. He waited a beat. “Undertaker, fire on my mark, three, two.”

  “Don’t shoot!” Rosenblum relented, holding his pistol in a surrendering gesture before tossing it to the floor beside the plastic sheeting that Shepherd knew was there to keep his apartment clean when they shot her. He released Diana and raised both hands into the air. Diana staggered away from him and into Shepherd’s arms as he approached, closing the gap.

  Shepherd kept his weapon trained on Rosenblum. “Secure him.”

  Sloan rushed past him and had Rosenblum up against the glass, spread-eagled a second later. After a thorough search, he secured his hands behind his back in zip ties. Shepherd took Diana in an embrace with one arm. He kept his weapon held at the ready, his eyes on the expanse of the room. The scene was not secure yet. “Razor and Doc, report to our location to help secure the scene. Target in custody, victim safe.” Then his voice softened. “Diana, are you okay?” She trembled in his arms. She held her hands, still bound with duct tape, up to him.

  “Once we know the scene is secure, I can put my weapon away and cut it off. Not till we know the team has searched the entire residence.”

  “Thank God you got here in time,” she stammered. “How did you find me?” Her hands reached to her neck. She felt around, remembering she’d taken the necklace with the tracker off earlier that day.

  “We tracked your cell phone.”

  She looked around the room. “My bag?”

  “I recovered it from the van in the parking garage. I’ve got it. Don’t worry.”

  “Thank you, Sam.”

  “I need some information. How many men does Rosenblum have here?”

  “I saw three others, the two men who threw the bomb at my clinic, and there was a third man here when they took the hood off my head. Oh my God, Madison. She was with me. Did they hurt her?”

  “Be advised, she saw three other men, besides the primary target on site,” Shepherd transmitted. “She got knocked out by the blast. Is at the hospital, possible concussion,” Shepherd told her. “She should recover completely.”

  “Was anyone else hurt?” Diana asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of, but I’ll get a full report later,” Shepherd said.

  “My clinic?”

  “I’m sorry, Diana. I’m pretty sure it was a total loss,” he reported.

  Diana felt a crushing blow from his confirmation. Her clinic. She’d worked so hard to make it what it was, and it was gone in a moment.

  “You can rebuild,” Shepherd whispered.

  She nodded; her vision blurred from a new wave of tears that cascaded from her eyes.

  Through his comms, Shepherd heard the voices of Mother and Lambchop confirming that the remainder of the residence was clear. They had three men in custody. One of them had a recovering GSW to his arm. Looked to be the man who had gotten away at the lake house. He holstered his weapon and pulled his knife from his pocket. He cut the duct tape from her wrists. “Control, call the LEOs and the regional federal authorities in. Four Tangos in custody, one injured, will need EMS. We’ll turn them and the scene over.”

  “Roger that, Big Bear,” Yvette’s voice replied. “I’ll stay on shift until the team is clear. Circles just came on shift.”

  Shepherd flipped his hand up to view the time on his watch. Then his eyes scanned the darkening sky outside the large windows. He drew in a calming breath. “Thank you, Control.”

  Diana listened to Sam’s voice, calming with the news that it was over. She noticed that hiss bulletproof vest had the letters DHI. She didn’t know what those initials meant. But the other man’s vest read ATF. She knew that represented the federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives. More of his men came into the room. DEA, NSA, ICE, and FBI were on their vests.

  The man with the ATF vest on came up to her. “Are you okay?”

  Diana nodded. She recognized him. He was married to Kaylee, the redhead from the BBQ.

  “I’m a medic. Let me know if you are injured anywhere.”

  His voice was soothing.

  “I’m not but thank you.”

  “Undertaker, stay with her, will you?” Shepherd asked.

  Diana grabbed more tightly onto Sam as
he tried to move away.

  “I’ll be back, and you are safe. I have to turn the scene over to the local law enforcement. They are just arriving. We’ll keep your statement to them brief and then get you out of here,” he promised. Then he crossed the room, heading back towards the front door. She could not help but watch him. He moved with strength and confidence.

  “This is the process,” Sloan said, his eyes trapping hers. “We’ll be out of here soon. Trust Shepherd. He knows what he’s doing.”