Page 153 of Maddy's Justice

“Best guess,” Roy said. “Your friend is being kept in there.”

“Or the main building,” Kevin added.

“How close can you get us?” Paxton asked.

“Us?” Carvelli asked. “Us? No way you’re coming…”

“Yes, I am,” Paxton said. “I’m Army, remember? I’ve had as much, probably more, tactical training than anybody here. I go to the range at least two or three times a month. Besides, you’re not in charge here, Carvelli. I have rank over everyone.”

Carvelli looked at Sorenson who shrugged and said, “If she can shoot, another gun might not be a bad idea.”

“Don’t be such a sexist dinosaur, Carvelli,” Paxton said.

“There’s no point in arguing with them,” Diggs said.

“How close can you get us to this road?” Carvelli asked pointing at the county road that ran along the east perimeter.

“It’s pretty forested up there. There is a spot here,” Roy said pointing at the larger map.

“Unless you want to rappel down from the chopper,” Kevin said smiling at the thought.

“I’ve done it before,” Paxton said.

“We’ll walk out to the road,” Carvelli said.

“You had me worried for a second there,” Sorenson said. “I thought you might say yes.”

“It’s about a half mile east of the road. Take a compass, go due west and you’ll run into the road.”

“There aren’t any street signs to follow?” Carvelli, the die-hard city boy asked.

“I’ll bring the compass,” Paxton said rolling her eyes at Carvelli.

Casey said, “The tactical team is getting together now. They have to get the okay from the county to fly into this spot.”

“Why?” Carvelli asked. “Aren’t they Feds?”

“No, Chicago PD,” Casey answered.

“Well, get up there as fast as you can. You’ve got the GPS coordinates?”

“Yep. We’ll hurry, but they’re having trouble finding the sheriff up there,” Casey said.

“Okay. Well, let’s go,” Carvelli said.

“You’re going through a forest dressed like that?” Roy asked. “Kev, you’re about his size. Get him a change of clothes and boots.

“You two, your jeans and shoes are okay but it’s a gonna be cold up there even in the summer. We have black, nylon windbreakers for you.”

Before leaving, Roy volunteered to go with them. He was in his late thirties, but still remembered his training. Both Roy and Kevin were former Airborne Ranger chopper pilots. That was how they met. Two tours in Afghanistan; two in Iraq.

Kevin would drop them off at the open field, then fly to a nearby small town, Prentice, Wisconsin. There he would wait until signaled to come and pick them up.

The pilots also had equipment. A pair of night vision goggles, fourteen-inch bolt cutters to get through the fence and canteens and power bars. And guns including a pair of MK 17 SCAR 7.62 rifles and an M4 5.56 and several various 9 mm handguns.

“You know, this is Chicago and they only let gangbangers and drug dealers carry weapons like these,” Agent Diggs said.

“It’s okay,” Roy said with an innocent look. “We don’t usually carry them except when we’re helping the FBI catch assholes.”

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