And Lucky, though he might not tell anybody.
“When will the sting happen?” This from a tired-looking Johnson.
“As soon as all players are in place. The warehouse raid is scheduled for three o’clock this afternoon, the pharmacy at midnight. In the meantime, I’m investigating who blocked the warrant request,” Walter said, forearms resting on the surface of his desk. Working with Bo might be having an effect: roughly one-third of the wooden desktop peeked through the ever-present pile of papers and files on the boss’s desk.
“I want to be there.” Why Lucky spoke he had no idea.
“Me too.” Bo’s steady gaze met Lucky’s.
Walter nodded. “Bo, although there will be bilingual speakers available, I’m sure your presence will be appreciated.” He swiveled his head toward Johnson. “Loretta, from what you’ve told me, there are quite a few women involved who might feel more comfortable with a female agent.” Lastly, he focused on Lucky. “And you’ll be there because there’s no way to stop you.”
“Damned skippy.”
***
Johnson knocked and opened the office door two hours later, tablet computer in hand. Ah, another agent swayed to the dark side of tiny computers. Take Lucky’s tried-and-true laptop over his dead body. He and Bo hadn’t been allowed to leave Walter’s domain. Too much planning to do. “The information we took from the warehouse shows most of the inventory went to street dealers or small-practice doctors.”
Made sense. Any doctors in a large practice would either have to conspire with other doctors or make damned sure to cover their tracks.
“I followed some of the women,” Johnson said on a yawn. “They went several places, but didn’t stay long enough to do much cleaning.”
“What places?” Walter leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his belly.
Johnson shot a quick glance Lucky’s way. “Two clinics, three nursing homes, and a school.”
“Which school?” The sinking feeling in Lucky’s chest said he already knew.
“Clifton High.”
Lucky shot to his feet. “Sonofabitch!”
Bo placed a restraining hand on Lucky’s arm. Oh, yeah. Not the place. “Sorry, boss,” Lucky muttered, returning to his chair.
“Under the circumstances, I completely agree. We must act quickly.” Walter studied Lucky with an intensity likely to send drug lords scrambling out of the way. “If there is a conspiracy, we have to strike before there’s time to tip anyone off. I take it you found what you expected at the doctor’s office.”
“We did. I emailed a preliminary report.”
Walter nodded. “We’re gathering a team and meeting in the conference room at one p.m. There’s been a change of plans, based on the new intelligence. The raid on the warehouse is set for ten p.m., with the pharmacy at midnight.”
Worked for Lucky.
***
They had a warrant. Funny how the DEA got a yes when Lucky got a no. But they’d also brought backup.
One hell of a lot of backup. Lucky, Bo, and Johnson sat in the conference room, schematic of the warehouse projected on the wall. “Abandoned offices here and here.” Lucky circled the areas with a laser pointer that looked way too much like one of Cat Lucky’s favorite toys. In his brain the black and white feline launched himself at the wall in pursuit of the elusive red dot.
Operatives from several organizations commonly known by three letters surrounded the table, many taking notes.
“Product is stored here.” Again with the pointer.
Next, he advanced to the photos and floor plans he’d gotten of the pharmacy. “The mixing operation is here, and packaging here.” Lucky indicated the areas.
Bo took over. “There’s normally a maximum of four guards at any time, a total of eight, in overlapping shifts, and eight men work two shifts guarding the workers at the apartments. One warehouse guard is currently in I.C.E custody, leaving seven more.” He didn’t elaborate on what sent the man to Mercy General with a concussion, resulting in immigration control stepping in.
Johnson did a damned good job of hiding a smirk.
“According to our source, most of the laborers are Spanish speakers, either coerced with promises of legitimate jobs in the US or taken against their will. They work at night for little more than a roof over their heads and too few meals.” Bo paused. Did anyone else notice the twitch in his jaw muscles, or how he clenched and unclenched his fists? “Some are said to be underage. Those who don’t cooperate are punished or taken away and never returned. Which instills fear in the others and keeps them in line.”
