“So, we’re scouting, but if we find anyone in there, we have to…take them down, bring them home?”
Mason grins. “If they come peacefully, I’d like to meet them and give them The Organization’s ultimate welcome party with an interrogation session and one-way trip to jail.”
Mane and I salute him. “You got it, Boss.”
Lang tilts his head toward the exit. “The helicopter is waiting for you. The pilot is flying you to the airport. Call me at midnight so we can start working. In the meantime, get some sleep.”
Chapter Fifteen
Fisher
We spend the first two days surveying the area. On the third night, it’s time to raid the two houses. The first one is almost like a refrigerator. When we go into the upstairs rooms, they are filled with servers. Lang and Mane spend about five minutes hacking into the servers. Once Lang’s in downloading data, we head to the next property.
“This is a bad idea,” Manelik mumbles.
“You’re just catching up?”
“It’s a couple of hackers. How bad can it be?” Lang asks through the earpiece.
“I know at least a dozen hackers, including you, that are also trained to beat the shit out of people,” I remind him.
“Well, there’s that.”
“Your tone doesn’t make me feel any better,” I singsong.
“They might be trained, but you’re one of the best.”
“Flattery won’t help me in this time of need,” I complain.
“Can you shut up?” Manelik orders. “I swear you’re just as chatty as Beacon. Maybe worse when he’s not around.”
We stop when we hear noise.
Clank, clank, clank.
There are muffled voices and shuffling coming from inside the house.
Before we enter I say, “If I die, tell Dr. Hottie that my last wish was a kiss from her.”
“I knew you had a thing for her.” Mane gives me an accusatory look.
“I don’t, but if not her, who else?”
Manelik shakes his head. We make our way inside the house. There’s not much in this place either. Not even servers, but the shuffling and the voices continue. I close my eyes, concentrating on the noise. It’s coming from the basement. I recall seeing one of those old basement entrances on the back of the house. We make our way out silently. That’s when we spot a truck parking on the side.
“Fuck, this is outside my paygrade,” Manelik complains.
“What’s happening? The drone isn’t in position just yet,” Lang says. “Give me a second…okay. I see a truck and…fuck.”
“I was thinking just the same,” I agree. “I’m guessing they’re arms dealers—and hackers.”
“This is a lot more than we expected. I’m downloading their data.” He pauses before exhaling loudly. “Fuck. They’re also trafficking women and drugs.”
Rage churns in my stomach. I hate these men already.
The anger burns my insides. This is only one small part of the group. Even if we take them down, there are more. My mind races as I try to figure out this new, unexpected development. I bet Mane and Lang are doing the same.
Should we pull out, bring a bigger team? Should we go in now before they can escape? They’re going to notice that Lang is downloading all the information on the servers. They’ll find out that someone shut them down. We have to act but… “What now?”
“Clean out the house. And not to sound redundant but keep it clean. Treat it like a crystal shop. I don’t want to wake up the boss and ask for the clean-up crew because you can’t—”
“Work in an orderly fashion,” Mane and I finish Lang’s stupid motto.
“I swear you say that so many times I have it fucking tattooed on my ass.”
“We’ll need the crew. Call it,” Mane orders, then tilts his head. “Ready?”
I nod.
Mane pulls the automatic gun he carries on his back. I grab two of my knives. The gun can wait, I’d rather not shoot. We wait behind some bushes. A guy jumps out of the truck. He opens the back. It’s empty. Okay, so everything is inside the basement. They were probably packing the merchandise.
“Meth lab,” Lang says through the earpiece. “From where I stand, I can see a guy coming out with a box—Grandma’s Sugar Cookies. Oh, how sweet, they’re using Grammy’s business to move the merch. Yep, it’s definitely a meth lab. Be careful, don’t blow it out.”
I don’t make any promises. I doubt we’ll bring a souvenir home. Yep, my gut told me this would be a shit show, the bullets landing next to my foot confirm it.
Mane is the one who takes the lead.
“Get in the house and try to see what you can salvage,” he orders.
I do as he says, throwing a knife to the left where a guy carrying an automatic gun was about to shoot me—one less problem. As I walk toward the end of the room, someone pushes me to the ground. I catch a jab on the right eye. The only one I allow. I stab him on the left side of his torso, kick him away from me. When I stand up, I do the one thing I hate the most. I pull out my handgun and shoot him. I remind myself it’s necessary. It’s him or me. If he can trace who we are, The Organization and our families will be in danger.
The room looks a lot like the science lab The Organization has in Kirkland. Except, we don’t use it to create drugs.
“You need to send the crew, Lang,” I say through the earpiece.
“I already did. They should be there in three hours or so. Do they have any computers in there?”
I scan the place and spot a door. “Probably behind door number one.” I go inside carefully, but not as carefully as I should. Once I’m inside, a sharp pain overtakes my ribs. “Fuck,” I groan. I pull out my gun and shoot the guy.
“Are you okay?”
I look at my side where a stupid Swiss knife is sticking out. “No. Some geek just pushed a pocket knife between my ribs. Pray that he didn’t hit an organ.”
“Which side?
“The left,” I answer, heading to the computer and inserting the USB so Lang can connect. “Do your thing so I can leave.”
“According to Google, you don’t have any major organs on that side.”
“Well, if fucking Google says it, then I’ll live. Who needs a fucking doctor?”
“Okay, I got everything I needed from that computer. Turn it off and head out. Mane is done with…everyone.”
“Great, I feel so much better.”
“He’ll take a look at your wound. Fly to Seattle, we’ll stitch you up.”
“I’ll go home. Dr. Hottie will do it. She worked in an ER,” I joke.
“Don’t do that.”
I smirk. “You can’t stop me.”
“Listen, I need you to get that checked. I have an issue to deal with before I head to Seattle. You owe me.”
“I owe you?”
“Wait until we talk.”
“Don’t rush. Let’s chat next century.” I cringe when I reach for the door. Fuck, this is what happens when they send ten percent of the team to a mission. Let’s just pray this is the worst that can happen when we don’t work together. San has to come home in one piece.