Page 52 of Operation: Valiant Angel

“I hope not,” Lambchop said. “With Gustavo going MIA, they’re going to get real paranoid and are bound to change things up.”

“Yeah, and we’re ready to move on them as they are now,” Wilson agreed. “I’ve already executed the takedown of stash house number one in my mind from several different angles.”

“I’m sorry I suggested you were distracted,” Lambchop said with a chuckle.

Wilson chuckled with him.

***

Just before sundown, Espinoza got in touch with the Shepherd Security Team with the formal request to recon the warehouse. The Digital Team had gotten back to them over an hour earlier with the schematics of the warehouse. All six team members were at the hotel, awake, had studied the schematics and planned their approach to breaching the warehouse to search for product. One of Espinoza’s men had relieved Jackson from surveilling stash house number one an hour earlier. That was when they knew the request for them to enter that warehouse would be coming.

As Shepherd had requested, Lambchop contacted Ops to be on with them when they moved on the warehouse. Garcia and Caleb ‘Hound dog’ Smith were on in Ops, with Garcia running primary for their mission. The team arrived on site after the darkness of night settled on the city. One of the two vehicles they droveapproached from the north, the other the south. The warehouse sat on a corner lit by a single streetlight. It had a small parking lot that lay to the east. Sharing the same driveway but veering west towards the back, the drive led to the three loading docks.

The dirty concrete warehouse had seen better days. Wilson was sure at least one of the windows was broken, but with the lack of light on most of the structure, it was hard to tell. One thing that was easily identifiable was that the place had no vehicles on its grounds and there were no discernible lights coming from the interior. It appeared dark and lifeless.

As previously planned, both vehicles drove past the warehouse, crossing paths with each other.

“Before we enter, a quick prayer,” Lambchop broadcast through comms. “Father God, keep this team safe this evening. Let this structure be as vacant as it appears. Let no innocent bystanders wander into our operation. And if it is your will, God, have a large cache of illegal drugs be waiting for us to find. Amen.”

Wilson and the two others in the car with him chuckled at Lambchop’s last sentence before joining in an, “Amen.”

“Go, go, go,” Lambchop then said to proclaim the Op underway.

The vehicle heading north was driven by Jackson. Wilson and Mother rode with him. Jackson pulled up alongside the road just past the building from which the loading docks could be seen. Wilson and Mother slipped out of the car and ran at a crouch towards the warehouse. On the other side of the building, Sloan, driving the other car, did the same. Lambchop and Sherman got out of that car and approached the front door to the warehouse.

Both drivers then drove around the block and parked their vehicles. Jackson parked in the full parking lot of a factory that was running a second shift. Thankfully there were few lights in the parking lot, and he was able to park up against a dark line ofbushes. Sloan parked on the street alongside a twelve-foot-high chain-link fence. Then they both made their way towards the target warehouse.

Wilson and Mother made it to the back of the warehouse and the first raised loading dock. The garage door was rolled down but there were gaps between it and the wall which allowed the men to easily slip inside. “We’re in,” Wilson broadcast. “Door number one.” He glanced around the interior which was very dimly lit with emergency lighting. He could see well enough that he didn’t need to don his night vision goggles. Glancing to his right, towards dock doors number two and three, he was surprised to see a solid cement wall. That hadn’t been on the architectural drawings for this warehouse.

At the front of the building, Lambchop and Sherman had a harder time gaining entry. The door was sturdy and locked. The window beside it though was not. Lambchop forced the window open. Sherman climbed in and then unlocked and opened the door for Lambchop. The front room was an office, equally filthy as the outside of the building with no working lights, just the low voltage emergency lighting on the ceiling above the door that should lead into the warehouse per the diagrams.

“We’re in, too,” Lambchop answered. “Going to make access into the warehouse now.”

“Be advised, Lambchop, the building has been altered. There’s now a solid wall between bays one and two,” Mother broadcast.

“Let’s see what else has been altered,” Lambchop said. “Going to enter the warehouse now.”

“Hold up,” Wilson transmitted. “Let us scope out the interior first. There are windows on the doors in this bay looking into the warehouse.”

“Roger that, Taco,” Lambchop replied.

Wilson and Mother crept soundlessly against the wall. In the far-right corner was a large double door with windows. Wilson carefully peeked through the window to ensure the space in front of it was vacant. It was clear from his vantage point, but he didn’t have a full view of the entire interior of the warehouse space.

Wilson pushed the door open, Mother covering him. Wilson stepped into the open space, his back against the swinging door. Mother, in a low crouched position, came out into the warehouse, his aim behind Wilson. Clear. The two men circled, back-to-back, until they had scrutinized every shadow in the large open area.

“Clear,” Mother broadcast. The two men closed the door and pressed themselves to the wall that led towards docking bays two and three.

Lambchop opened the door that should lead to the warehouse floor. It squeaked and moaned loudly as it moved, echoing through the entire warehouse. Seconds later, the door to loading dock bay number three swung open, spilling light into the warehouse and infusing the area with low Latin music. Instinctively, Wilson and Mother flattened their backs against the wall. Both men also tapped the mic on their comms with a finger. They were close enough to the Tango they didn’t dear speak, but the tap would transmit a sound that would warn Lambchop and the Birdman to hold position.

A man stepped into the open warehouse. A shaft of light from behind him like a spotlight, illuminated him. Held by his side a metal barrel that pointed downward reflected the light. A question immediately came to both Wilson and Mother. Was he alone? They’d find out quickly. Wilson motioned to Mother. He’d take the man; Mother was to cover the room the man had come from. Mother nodded.

The man’s gaze was directed towards the front office as though he knew the sound had come from that door. His feet carried him a few more steps further into the warehouse. Wilson and Mother moved on him. They rushed towards the open door soundlessly, remaining in the shadows near the wall until the last second.

Then suddenly, as Mother dropped to a knee and circled himself around, so his gaze and his weapon was trained on the lit-up room, Wilson advanced on the man, overtaking him without being seen. In one motion, Wilson pushed the man from his feet and out of the light that spilled from the room, knocked his loosely held weapon from him, and jammed the barrel of his Sig P226 up against the back of the man’s neck.

“You move, you’re a dead man,” Wilson whispered to the man. “Don’t make a sound, don’t even breathe.”

The man’s rigid form didn’t move.

---