Page 4 of Operation: Reckless Angel

Roth chuckled. He hadn’t watched any football on Thanksgiving. His mom and sister didn’t watch it and, surprise, Kelly’s new pansy-ass Library Science boyfriend didn’t either, so the game wasn’t put on. Instead, they watched some Hallmark movie snore.

Lambchop stuck his bald black head out of Shepherd’s office. “Come on in,” he called.

Wilson was just exiting the stairs. They all went in and took a seat at Shepherd’s conference table.

“Thank you for arriving on time, gentlemen. I’m sorry we kept you waiting,” he said. All the men settled into their seats. Shepherd clicked on the mouse and the wall monitor came to life displaying a Caucasian man in his mid-thirties with reddish-brown hair, green eyes, with a well-trimmed beard and mustache. Listed beside his picture was all the information on him the Digital Team could dig up. “As you know, the case you will begin today was referred to us by the CIA. During a foreign surveillance operation, they picked up a thread in a chatroom on the darknet. It was in a room notorious as a space for buyers and sellers of illegal services to meet. They were able to trace the IP address back to the target of our investigation, Cameron Woods of Waterloo, Iowa.”

“Back to Iowa,” Jimmy Wilson said, shaking his head. The team’s last installation, before Thanksgiving, had been in Iowa.

“Like fucking Groundhog Day,” remarked Tessman.

“The movie was actually filmed north of here, in Woodstock. Not in Iowa,” Roth volunteered.

The corner of Shepherd’s lip tipped up. “Our target lives in a townhome complex immediately across the street from a park.”

“Oh, fuck, is this in relation to child porn or child abduction and trafficking?” Tessman moaned.

“Unsure,” Shepherd said. “The thread that was intercepted was not the initial contact. It was a confirmation of the contract with no details.”

“But if it was business transacted on the darknet, it’s illegal,” Lambchop added.

“Undoubtably,” Shepherd said. “The Digital Team’s investigation of him showed no police record. He has filed no complaints against anyone. He is not listed as a witness to any crimes. There are no civil matters pending that he’s a party too.”

“Basically, there appears to be no reason this guy should be looking to hire someone on the darknet,” Lambchop said. “I’d feel better about this if there was a recorded beef he had with someone.”

“Yeah, human trafficking or kiddie porn are the next logical assumptions,” Tessman said, shaking his head, not liking what this was looking like.

“Are there any vacant units near our target we can set up in?” Wilson asked.

“Yes and no,” Shepherd said. “Not vacant, but there is a unit owned by a local cop that we will be taking over. He’s the only person who’s been brought in on the surveillance we’ll be conducting. The agency will pay for him to stay in a hotel for the duration of our Op. And he’ll be our LEO contact if we need one.”

“Does he personally know our target?” Roth asked.

“He says no. He works a swing shift and isn’t coming or going when his neighbors usually are, so he has little contact with any of them,” Shepherd said.

Roth read over the information listed on their target. He knew the bio would be pushed out to them electronically to study at length, but he wanted to get a feel for him now. Cameron Woods was thirty-five years old. He had a hefty mortgage on the townhouse and a car payment for a four-year-old blue Ford Focus. He listed himself on his social media as self-employed as a freelance editor, graphic design artist, illustrator, web designer, and social media promoter. Did people really make money as a social media promoter? How? He wondered what all that entailed.

“He lives alone and works from his home,” Shepherd continued to say. “So, you’ll need to watch his movements for the best time to enter his residence to plant bugs and cameras. The Digital Team will get you what you need to clone his phone. You’ll need to get close enough to him to do that.”

“We need to figure out who this guy is and what he could have hired someone for, fast,” Lambchop said. “The CIA picked the thread up two weeks ago, so the contract could already have been carried out.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Shepherd said. “You’ll drive two agency vehicles and rent a third on site if you need it. Only handguns are approved for this Op.”

“It’s a five-hour drive,” Lambchop said. “We’ll study his bio and formulate our plan on the drive out.”

“Keep me informed of your plans, gentlemen,” Shepherd said, coming to his feet.

The others followed suit and exited the room. While the others mounted to stairs to return to their offices to get their belongings, Roth descended the one flight of stairs to where his office was, within the medical suite, to retrieve his backpack, which had his medical supplies. He had a duffle bag beside it on the couch, which contained his clothing and personal items for the week. He’d swing through the team room to grab his body armor bag, where he also kept his black operational fatigues.

He was genuinely excited to work this case. He looked forward to the day the PGP contract was completed and the day to day would consist of traditional cases. His knee gave him no problems at all after the last year plus of strengthening it. No, it wasn’t back to one hundred percent, but it was damn close. It was good enough.

He trotted down the stairs and entered the busy team room, where the five other members of the team were getting their tactical gear as well. A cart near the door had magazines of ammo lined up on it. ‘Requisition’ Ryan Grant, the team’s supply chain magician, always had their equipment ready to go for them. He never failed to produce any needed items.

After Roth grabbed four magazines for his Sig Sauer .9mm p228 and placed them in his duffle bag, he went to his locker and pulled out the bag that contained his body armor. When he exited into the garage, he saw that two of the agency vehicles were parked in front of the elevator, a black Suburban and the agency’s newest car, a silver Chevy Traverse.

He immediately stowed his gear in the back of the Suburban as Lambchop slid behind the wheel. Mother took shotgun. Roth slid into the backseat as the three members of Charlie Team claimed the Traverse. He hoped he’d get to drive it. He loved the new car smell.

They pulled out of the Shepherd Security garage and pointed their vehicles west. Roth brought up his weather app to check the forecast for Waterloo, Iowa. “Sunny and forty,” he said aloud. “No snow in the forecast for Waterloo until the weekend. Not bad for the end of November.”

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