Page 45 of Doc
“It’s too big.”She adjusted the straps for the third time.
“Better too big than not wearing one at all.”We’d argued about it back at the clubhouse until I’d finally told to wear the fucking thing or stay behind.I knew I’d sounded like a dick, but I wasn’t taking chances with her safety.“The vest stays on.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t protest further.In the blue glow of the surveillance monitors, her face looked younger, more vulnerable than the woman who’d hacked into county databases hours earlier.The reality of what we were doing -- raiding a warehouse owned by a corrupt judge, likely protected by equally corrupt law enforcement -- had settled over both of us as we’d loaded into the vehicles.
Tank’s voice crackled through our earpieces.“Target in sight.No visible security.Proceeding to phase one.”
Through the windshield, I tracked the lead vehicle as it disappeared around the corner of the massive industrial building.Nova’s financial search, along with her mother’s notes, had traced the warehouse to one of Judge Harmon’s shell companies, Coastal Investments, bought three years earlier.On paper, it held legal documents and county records too old for the courthouse.In reality, we suspected it hid evidence of the trafficking operation -- and with luck, proof of the conspiracy against Nova’s parents.And what she’d also discovered was that Coastal Investments had a ghost company called RH Enterprises.They were essentially one and the same.
“Entry team deploying,” Saint’s voice reported through the comms.“Perimeter team in position.”
Nova’s hand found mine in the darkness of the van, her fingers cold despite the warm night.I squeezed gently, offering what reassurance I could.We’d come too far to turn back now.
“Electronic security disabled,” Wire announced from his position in the back of our van.“Cameras on loop.You’re clear.”
Five tense minutes passed as we listened to the teams securing the building.My medical bag sat between my feet, ready if needed.I’d patched up enough wounded brothers to know that even the best-planned operations could go sideways in seconds.
“Building secure,” Tank finally reported.“No personnel on site.Doc, Nova, you’re clear to approach.Loading dock, east side.”
I started the van, driving slowly around the perimeter until we reached the indicated entrance.Two Prospects stood guard, their cuts covered by dark jackets to avoid identification if anything went wrong.They nodded as we approached, one opening the van door while the other scanned the darkness behind us.
“Stay close,” I told Nova as we exited the vehicle.“Follow my lead.”
She nodded, adjusting her vest one last time before falling in behind me.The warehouse interior was cavernous, stacks of shipping containers and metal shelving units creating a maze of shadows and hidden corners.Tank met us at the entrance, his injured arm still in a sling but his good hand resting on the weapon holstered at his hip.
“Found what looks like an office in the back,” he said, voice low.“Electronic lock.Fancy shit for a document storage facility.”
I nodded, sensing Nova’s tension beside me.“Lead the way.”
We moved through the warehouse silently, our footsteps barely audible on the concrete floor.The two Prospects followed, providing rear security as Tank guided us deeper into the labyrinth of containers.I kept Nova between Tank and myself, my senses hyperalert to any sound that might indicate we weren’t alone.
The office appeared around a corner -- a modern glass enclosure that stood in stark contrast to the industrial surroundings.A keypad lock secured the door, with what looked like a retinal scanner mounted beside it.
“Serious security.What the hell are they keeping in there?”Tank’s brow furrowed.
Nova stepped forward, examining the lock without touching it.“RFID reader with a keypad backup.”She reached into her pocket for a device Wire had given her.“Should be able to clone the signal if I can get the right frequency.”
I positioned myself where I could watch both Nova and our surroundings, my hand resting on my sidearm.Tank moved to cover the approach from the direction we’d come, leaving the prospects to watch the other angles.Nova worked in silence, her face a mask of concentration as she manipulated the device against the reader.
After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, a soft click signaled success.The door unlocked with a pneumatic hiss.Nova looked up at me, triumph flashing briefly in her eyes before professional focus returned.
“Let me go first.”I drew my weapon.She nodded, stepping back to allow me entry.
The office was smaller than it had appeared from outside, most of the space taken up by filing cabinets and a large desk with multiple monitors.I swept the room quickly, confirming it was empty before signaling Nova to enter.Tank remained at the door, dividing his attention between us and the warehouse beyond.
“Jackpot,” Nova whispered, already moving toward the filing cabinets.She opened the drawer and ran her fingers along the labels, stopping abruptly.“Mom’s investigation code names.These are her files.”
She showed me the neatly organized folders with names I recognized from her mother’s notebook.But what caught my attention was a door behind the desk -- heavy steel, with another electronic lock.
“Nova.”I nodded toward it.“There’s more.”
She joined me, already pulling out Wire’s device again.This lock was simpler than the office door, yielding to Nova’s electronic skeleton key in seconds.The door swung open to reveal a hidden room beyond -- not large but filled with exactly what we’d been hoping to find.
Financial ledgers lined one wall.A server rack hummed in the corner.Hard drives and backup discs filled a cabinet beside a sophisticated computer setup.And spread across a central table, a case file labeled in handwriting I recognized from Nova’s mother’s notebook: “Operation Cleansweep.”
“Oh my God.”Nova moved to the table.“This is Mom’s handwriting.This is her investigation file -- the one that went missing after she died.”
I watched as she opened the file with careful fingers, as if it might dissolve at her touch.Inside were photographs, financial documents, witness statements -- the complete investigation Mary-Jane Treemont had been building before her murder.Nova’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away quickly, professional focus reasserting itself.
