Instead, we’re employing brute force and will be barreling in at full speed.
I was itching to blast my way inside when we arrived, but the FBI doesn’t work like that. The first goal in hostage situations is to de-escalate and bring a nonviolent resolution.
If I were in charge, we’d have skipped that part. We never had a chance of Carnage walking out with his hands up.
The metal of my gun feels colder than usual. And heavier. Probably because of what it represents. This shit is personal.
In my career, no other arrest, bust, or raid has put this much weight on my shoulders. If another case in my future should top this one in terms of pressure, I’ll take it as my cue to retire early.
Fortunately, I’m not flying solo like when I arrested Riddick. I’m part of a huge team of well-trained professionals, all of us working in concert to end Carnage’s reign of terror.
Before the FBI arrived, the Redleg operatives were already in place, strategically positioned in the wooded area surrounding the STK compound. Far enough to stay out of law enforcement’s way. Close enough to step in should the worst happen. And in the unlikely event any STK members get through our front line, they’ll run smack dab into Redleg’s perimeter.
I can’t see them, but it’s reassuring to have them there.
As for the STK compound itself, it isn’t what I expected. I envisioned a gang setting up shop in a drab industrial structure. Maybe an abandoned warehouse or rundown building in the thick of downtown.
I was wrong.
It’s an impressive residence I would’ve assumed was owned by a tech guru or wealthy physician. Asprawling two-story homeon an acre of property, nestled into a wooded area not far from the beaten path. Patio in the back and a picturesque front porch. A well-manicured lawn stretches to the wall that meets the tree line.There’s even a fucking widow’s walk.
All it’s missing is a garden gnome statue and a swing set in the backyard.
The only sign something dubious goes on inside is the ten-foot-tall concrete wall encapsulating the property, which is lined with security cameras. Additionally, some of the upper-floor windows have small balconies, where they could take aim at us and retain some cover.
We were able to see beyond the walls thanks to Redleg’s drones, which were already in place, so we didn’t waste time setting up our own.
Regrettably, the home is reinforced with a material that blocks heat sensor readings. Meaning, we don’t know how many are inside or where they are.
That was another reason we attempted negotiations.
The FBI’s mobile command rig is parked at the end of a one-lane dirt road leading to the home. SSA Chase and our ASAC will oversee things from there, along with representatives from the gang unit and SWAT commanders.
Agent Carson opted to stay back at the FO, where she’s patched in. She’s more comfortable running things from there. That was a plus in my book. Lila’s with her, rather than strangers we would’ve rustled up from other units. Aaron, the other Redleg guard, stayed behind for added peace of mind.
I’m jolted from my thoughts at the sound of Chase’s voice in my earpiece. “Okay, teams. As you know, we don’t have eyes on the inside. You’ll be flying blind. However, you saw the schematic, and our snipers will provide cover for your entry. As soon as Alpha Teamclears the gate, the other vehicles will follow. You’re going in fast and hot. Alpha through the frontdoor. Bravo through the back. Charlie will hold at the front until Alpha sweeps the foyer and living room. Expect heavy resistance. I’ll be counting you down momentarily. Stand by.”
She pauses, then adds a somber, “Good luck.”
On my left, Hemsley rocks his head impatiently. “Let’s fucking go.”
I trade glances with Agents Romero and Fowler, who are seated across from me. Only one of them is poised for action.
Drake is the definition of composure, face and jaw lax. He’s focused and ready.
Fowler, on the other hand, is twitching out of his skin. Sweat beads run down his face, and he tugs at his vest, unable to get comfortable.
Bad,badsign.
I lower my chin, eying him down. “Fowler, you good?”
He lengthens his neck, stretching from side to side before answering with a nervous two-note laugh. “Ha, ho, ha.” He forces down a swallow, then blurts, “Trina’s pregnant. She told me this morning.”
On my right, Agent McBride thumps the back of his head on the metal lining of the cargo hold. “Shiiit, FoMo. You can’t think ‘bout that now. That’s like shearing a pig. Don’t make no sense.”
So glad he could race back from Cocoa for this raid. It’d be boring without his colorful metaphors and idiotic nicknames. At least he swapped the cowboy hat for a ballistic helmet. While we aren’t decked out to the same extent as our SWAT counterparts, we do have on additional gear. Since they’re moving in first, we can get away with less bulk.
I nudge Luke in the bicep with the butt of my rifle to shut him up, then address Fowler using more compassion than I knew I possessed. “Congrats, man. You’ll make a great fucking dad. We’ll have a beer later to celebrate. For now, keep your head inthe game. Why don’t you take the spot between Andrews and me when we enter? We’ll keep you locked in. Yeah?”
