“I know his story was confirmed, but I still don’t trust Davis,” Burke said. “I’d feel better if he were kept at the hotel with Donna and Dorthea with at least one of us babysitting. I don’t even like that he’s out in his car right now unsupervised.”
“We searched it and him. There isn’t a phone out there. He’s not contacting anyone,” Wilson said. He glanced back out of the window at the black Camaro SS. “He has access to Jefferson. That access will get us inside the club and Jefferson’s apartment.”
“Agreed,” Shepherd said. “But watch him with suspicion.”
“I won’t be turning my back on him,” Burke muttered, which brought Donna’s focus to him. Her gaze had been trained on the black Camaro SS during the call.
“Anything else?” Shepherd asked.
No one voiced any issues.
“Okay, I’ll message you the location to pick up the vests and rifles. Dupont, get them to a hotel immediately and be ready to move when I contact you back. Be on comms during theOp. I’ll be back on and listen while you’re in.” His image then disappeared from the screen.
Burke stood behind Donna during the call. He tapped her on the shoulder, and when she stood, he embraced her. “You and your mom sit tight at the hotel. Stay in the room with the door locked and don’t open it to anyone but someone from this team.”
Donna nodded against him. “We will. Don’t worry about us.” Then her gaze swept over all five of them. “You all be careful.”
“We will, don’t worry about us,” Laura Lee said. “Try to keep Mom calm.” Her eyes then shifted to Wilson. “I’m going to go with Brad to get them settled at the hotel.”
“Let me have your car keys,” Burke prompted Donna before she left with Dupont and Laura Lee. “It won’t hurt for us to have another vehicle.” He followed them out. After they drove away in the vehicle Saxton and Dupont had rented when they arrived, he went over to the Camaro SS. “You can come back inside, and we’ll return your phone and weapons. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“Does that mean Chapman corroborated my story?” Davis asked. “You contacting him better not have burned me.”
“You don’t think being involved in this raid today is going to burn you?” Burke asked as they crossed the parking lot, heading for Donna’s front door.
“If we play it right, no,” Davis said.
***
Burke rode with Davis in the Camaro SS. Wilson drove Donna’s minivan, and Rogers drove the rental car. Dupont and Saxton met them and the DEA team at the parking garage several miles from Jefferson’s club. The two agents didn’t ask any questions. They just handed over the six bulletproof vests and the four Colt M4 carbine assault rifles after seeing Wilson’s credentials.
“We’ll be on standby with the rest of our team at the location previously designated. I’ll be the AIC after you call us in for turnover,” the man who introduced himself as Weigle said.
Wilson offered his hand. “We’ll see you on the other side.” The men shook.
Only after the two agents drove away did the six of them put on their vests. Davis and Burke pulled their shirts off and strapped the vests in place over their bare chests before pulling their shirts back on and then replacing their jackets. The others put their vests on under their jackets. They needed the element of surprise for as long as they could.
They quickly went over the plan one more time. Then the four vehicles drove from the parking garage, Davis’s Camaro SS leading.
“You ready?” Davis asked Burke as he put the car in park in the parking lot beside the gaudy street art painted first floor of the building that was the Shock nightclub. It contrasted with the neighboring historic brick buildings that stood two to fourstories tall. The cobblestone streets and brick sidewalks also gave off a historic vibe.
Only a couple of higher-rise buildings loomed in the distance, past the iconic clock tower of the historic Main Street Station and the elevated rail and elevated section of I-95 on the other side of it. Burke couldn’t help but let his eyes wander from them to the upper floor of the building where Jefferson’s apartment was.
They stepped up to the solid black door. Burke noticed a surveillance camera above the door. “Camera on the door,” he murmured. Davis had left that detail out. He’d only indicated that there were cameras at the front, main entrance of the club and inside. He wondered what else Davis had left out.
The door opened, and the mountain of a man who opened it greeted Davis. His eyes went to Burke.
“He’s cool,” Davis said. “Jay’s going to want to see me.”
The big man nodded and stepped back inside. Davis handed Burke the door. Burke had the strip of black tape positioned in his hand. Grasping the edge of the door along the locking mechanism of the doorknob, he pressed it to the latch bolt, securing it in a retracted position. A second piece of tape he then pressed to the door and the frame at thigh level to keep the door closed.
They followed the big man deeper into the club.
Dupont was parked across the street in a spot that gave him a good view of the front of the club and the side parking lot where Davis parked. “Team one is in,” he transmitted. He watched the sedan driven by Rogers. Laura Lee rode shotgun. They pulled up and parked on the street on the side, beside the parking lot where the Camaro SS was parked. They approached the front of the building before angling towards the side door, while hugging the building.
Wilson pulled up and parked on the street in front of the front door into the club. He immediately exited the minivan and pretended to inspect the front passenger-side tire. From his vantage point, he could see the front door to the club.
At HQ, Smith worked his hacker magic. He’d already gotten past the firewall on the club’s cloud-based security system. He watched in real time as Burke and Davis walked through the club. He’d already recorded a clip of camera footage from the cameras on the front door, back door, and two within the first floor area of the club their team would be moving around in until they would be able to neutralize the man monitoring the cameras from the security room that was tucked behind the bar beside the manager’s office.
