Knuckles thought,Yes!
Creed pushed off from the desk, his chair rolling to another terminal, and began work again, flashing through screens, saying, “If he’s on the DC cell network, he’ll pop up.”
Thirty seconds later, Creed hit the return screen shouting, “Boom!”
Knuckles saw the computer code replaced by a map, an icon in the center. He leaned closer and said, “That’s not a hotel.”
Brett read, “McMillan Sand Filtration site. What’s that?”
Creed went to yet another terminal and typed a search query, then said, “It’s the old water filtration site for Washington, DC. According to Google, it’s now a mixed-use development that’s been in developmental limbo, with a park and a bunch of stakeholders squabbling on what’s going to be built there.”
Knuckles glanced at his watch, then said, “Whatever it is, at that location it’s too late to be normal activity. What’s near it? Federal buildings, concert venues or anything worth attacking?”
Creed said, “Nothing but the new water filtration site. The one that replaced the sand filtration site.”
Knuckles looked at Brett, and Brett said what he was thinking. “They’re hitting the water system.”
Knuckles said, “We need some guns.” He turned to Creed and said, “Get a vehicle, plot that route, and meet us in the garage.”
They ran out of the NOC, leaving Creed with his mouth open. They ignored the elevator, hitting the door to the stairs and bounding down them to the team rooms on the second floor. They entered the first one they came to, rushing to the lockup in the back.
Brett punched in a universal code and the steel door opened, revealing an arsenal of firearms. Knuckles said, “Suppressed pistols.”
Brett pulled two Staccatos with threaded barrels off the wall, then grabbed two S98 titanium suppressors, handing one of each to Knuckles, saying, “Whose team room is this, anyway?”
Knuckles grabbed two loaded magazines and a flash-bang from an ammo can on the floor, saying, “I think it’s Johnny’s and Axe’s.”
Brett grabbed his own ammunition, then closed the door, locking it and saying, “Hope they don’t mind.”
They ran down the stairs and burst through the parking garage door, finding Creed sitting behind the wheel of another monstrous Suburban.
They piled in the back with Knuckles shouting, “Go, go!”
Creed crossed the Potomac, moving rapidly in the light traffic of the late hour. Screwing on his suppressor, Brett said, “You going to tell Wolffe what we’re doing?”
Knuckles worked his own pistol, saying, “Hell no. He might tell us to stand down. In my mind, this is an in extremis threat. We don’t have time to dick around calling the local SWAT team.”
Brett chuckled and said, “At least that’s our story, and we’re sticking to it.”
From the front seat, Creed said, “Uhhh... whatarewe doing?”
“You’re just driving. You drop us off, then stay close. We’ll call for exfil when we’re done.”
Looking at a map on his phone, Brett said, “Do a drive-by on North Capitol, past the stairs at the west end of the site.”
Creed adjusted his route, while Knuckles and Brett spent the rest of the drive studying the terrain. Twenty minutes later, Creed said, “It’s coming up on the left.”
They passed a park, then saw the silos of the old filtration site, the last one having a large tanker truck parked next to it. Knuckles said, “That’s them. They’re pumping some shit into the water system. Go forward another hundred meters until you’re out of the streetlight, then pull over.”
He did, and they spilled out of the back, letting Creed continue on while they crouched in the darkness. Brett said, “If we cross here, we can hug the fence along the construction site.”
Knuckles looked at the approach and said, “We still have to get up the stairs, and that’s lit.”
Brett said, “You want to enter the construction area? We’ll have to climb the fence twice, the last time right in front of them. The stairs are the quickest way up.”
Knuckles nodded and said, “Let’s go.”
They sprinted across the street, then jogged down the shadow of the construction zone fence, pausing at the last covered and concealed position before the stairs.
