Page 97 of Desperate Justice
Didn’t she know that? More and more it seemed Diana had gotten into the thick of it with smuggling drugs.
“I have to go into town. I’ll pick up Keith and Debbie’s overnight bags. Stay here.” Rafe gave her a meaningful look. “I mean it, Ally. Call me if you need me. Or text. The signal sucks here.”
* * *
One aspect of working for the FBI he admired was the Bureau’s efficiency in setting up command posts. Several plainclothes intelligence analysts from the Atlanta field office worked on laptops on folding tables. A white board and large television screen was at one end, and the room curtains were drawn for privacy.
Jase had taken over the room’s desk and was clearly in charge. He nodded at Rafe.
“Report,” Rafe told him.
Jase swiveled on the chair to face him. “We set up a lab in the bathroom. Both bears belonging to Allison and Diana contained pills that tested positive for fentanyl.”
Not surprising.
“Sam reported all the bears on the run today for the photo op were dark brown. The coordinator for picking up the bears said the tan bears were supposed to be picked up at seven by a private courier. Those bears are designated for a children’s hospital in North Carolina. We have surveillance on the drop-off site now. It’s inside a souvenir shop on Main.”
His jaw tensed. If all those bears contained fentanyl, it meant possible exposure to innocent patrons.
“We contacted the owner, and he agreed to close early. He already contacted the man scheduled to pick up the bears and told him he’d return to the shop to let him get them, but he had to go home early because his kid is sick.”
“Smart thinking.”
Greg Whitlock came out of the bathroom, respirator mask covering his face, a white hazmat suit on his body. He stripped off the suit and mask, ditched it into a biohazard can and headed toward Rafe and Jase.
In his late thirties, with long brown hair and an intense look, Greg was an excellent DEA agent. He’d first met him on an op last year before the gun battle that killed two of his best agents.
“Need to show you something.” The DEA agent showed him a photo on his phone.
As he recognized the baggie, Rafe’s heart sank.
“We confiscated one of the tan bears at the souvenir shop to test it. Found a plastic bag. Tested it, and it contains one kilo of 4-Piperidone.”
Rafe’s heart raced. A kilo of the precursor drug necessary for making fentanyl was bad news, worse than he’d anticipated. Probably more was in the bears inside the shop.
“There’s only one reason to smuggle that in the bears. Someone’s setting up a lab,” Greg told him.
One kilo of fentanyl was lethal. It could kill up to half a million people. His mind raced.
“What if they’re testing out the water, so to speak? Cooking it in a remote lab in the woods, where no one would suspect, get the product faster into the hands of users.”
“I agree. I’m sure this is Hernandez. He’s expanding operations. We can’t prove it now, but I feel like we’re getting close. You have to stay on this, Rafe. I know you’re supposed to be suspended, but...” Greg said.
“I have no plans to drop out.” The hell with suspension. He needed to nail this son of a bitch.
Rafe shoved a hand through his hair, musing. “If the drugs are flowing north, and they’re making fentanyl in a lab, it has to be someplace remote. Undetected. A warehouse, or a large home.”
“I can get a list of warehouses in that general vicinity. It’ll take time.”
“No need. I want you to sew those bears back and return them to the store for pickup.”
Jase and Greg exchanged glances. “Rafe, you sure? We have agents staking out the shop to tail whoever takes the bears.”
“Can’t risk them getting too close and tipping off the courier. Put tracking devices inside them first.”
“What if they find them?” Jase asked.
“They won’t, until they’re opened. Whoever did this still doesn’t know we’re on to them, so let’s keep it that way.”
