They followed from a distance and were surprised to find the destination was not the urgent care center, nor was it a hospital. They drove directly to a warehouse in a small industrial area in Shawano. The SUV pulled into the faded white building, the large overhead door closing after they were inside. There was no signage on the building.
Wilson parked across the street from the warehouse. In the back seat of the SUV, Tessman leaned into the back area and grabbed the flexible-neck camera from its case. All four men inserted their comms as Wilson called into Ops.
“Ops, go,” Yvette ‘Control’ Donaldson’s voice came through the speaker on Wilson’s phone.
Wilson relayed the situation and gave her the address of their location, not that she couldn’t have looked it up on the agency tracker system. “I’m sending photos now.” He accessed his photos and sent all of them from the airport and the new one he’d just taken of the warehouse their vehicle sat across from.
“Roger, I’ll get them to the Digital Team.”
Burke had been busy on his phone, searching the property records for ownership of the building. “They’re going to have to dig into the ownership of this property. Nothing tangible is coming up on a quick search,” he said.
“Roger that,” Yvette said. They could hear the clicks of her fingers flying over her keyboard.
“I’d sure like to know ownership before we go in,” Wilson said.
“I just sent the file to Smith, and he’s already working on it,” Yvette said. “And I notified Shepherd.”
The men on the ground in Shawano did not like waiting while the condition of the man who’d been brought off the aircraft was unknown. But they preferred not to go in blind. They waited for five minutes before Caleb ‘Hound Dog’ Smith’s voice came across the speaker. “Here’s what I dug up on the structure at your location. It’s owned by an LLC that traces back to Tom Butler through a couple of loosely hidden partnerships, donekind of sloppy, actually. The LLC is Medical Majesty, a medical charity whose filings say it supports children of low-income single mothers.”
“Well, the unconscious man being dragged from the Cessna was neither a child nor a single mother,” Burke said.
“And no low-income person is flying around on a private jet,” Wilson added.
“You’re authorized to go in. Proceed with caution,” Shepherd’s voice said next. None of the men knew he was on the line. “Disclose your federal status, if necessary, Moe taking the lead with his FBI creds unless something on site dictates another agency. Report back to me after you’ve breached the structure. Control, stay on line with them.”
“Roger that, Big Bear,” Yvette said.
“Thanks, Big Bear,” Wilson said.
The four men exited the vehicle. Wilson pointed at Burke and Tessman. “Circle around to the back. There has to be a window or a door on the side of the building or the back. Optimally, we get a look inside before we breach so we know what we’re walking into. Rogers and I will go in through the front and see who’s in the office and see what kind of reception we get by this medical charity.”
The men separated and approached the building. Wilson and Rogers walked towards the main entrance into the building thatwas in the middle of the building. Burke and Tessman veered to the left, as they knew the right-side wall had no doors or windows.
Through their comms, Burke and Tessman heard their two teammates enter the office of the building. “Hello, ma’am,” Wilson said. “We’d like to see Doctor Tom Butler, please.”
“So polite,” Burke said to Tessman.
“There’s no one by that name here,” the woman said.
“Is this or is this not Medical Majesty?” Wilson asked.
Burke and Tessman chuckled at what they heard as they made their way down the side of the building. Half-way down its length, they came to a window. No blinds, no curtains. Inside, it looked like an office. No one was inside and the door to the inside of the building was closed. Burke tried the window. It was locked. They could come back to it and break the window to breach if needed.
“Yes, ma’am, Tom Butler is one of the partners of Medical Majesty,” Wilson insisted.
Burke and Tessman continued until they came to the next window. It was higher up on the wall, a transom window. Burke, who was a foot taller than Tessman, took the camera, and bent the flex-neck to ninety degrees. He raised it so it would give them a view inside as the conversation in the office continued, the woman denying knowing Tom Butler.
Tessman had the feed patched through to his phone. He held his phone so that both he and Burke could scrutinize the display on his screen. Inside the room was a multi-bay medical treatment room. The curtain dividers were all open. There was only one bed in use that they could see. There were two figures in scrubs with their backs to the window. They were the same size and body shape as Valerie and Tom Butler.
“What the fuck? Ops, are you seeing the feed?” Burke transmitted.
“Negative, whose phone is patched into the camera?” Yvette asked.
“Moe’s,” Burke answered.
“I’ll tap in.”
“Be advised, we have the unconscious male and the two targets in a room that is set up as a medical treatment area in the west-middle section of the building,” Tessman transmitted so that Wilson and Rogers would know. “There is an unoccupied office we saw through a window adjacent to the target location we can gain entry through if necessary.”
