Page 12 of Operation: Valiant Angel

“Yeah,” Wilson said.

***

The next morning as Reina left for work, she was met at her garage by the neighborhood busybody, Lorraine Newhouse, who’d been walking her dog but made a beeline directly to Reina when she was in view. For an old woman, Lorraine moved quickly. Lorraine was in her early eighties and didn’t even try tohide that she kept watch over the neighborhood. She openly sat at her windows with binoculars.

“Hello, Missus Newhouse,” Reina greeted.

“Reina, dear, please tell me those men didn’t stay all night. I fell asleep, and I didn’t see them leave last night. I wanted to be sure you were okay. You know, a young lady can’t be too careful. And eight p.m. is late to begin entertaining several gentlemen.”

Reina cringed. She hated anyone in her business. “Nothing to be concerned about, Missus Newhouse,” she assured the woman. “That was my cousin Jimmy and his coworker. They were in the area on work and just swung in for a quick visit.” She would have preferred to tell the old bitty to mind her own, but she knew this would be a faster conversation and she just bit the bullet.

“Your cousin?” she repeated.

“Yep, my cousin, Jimmy.”

“What kind of work does he do?” she pressed.

Reina considered what her answer should be for a moment. “Law enforcement. He and his colleague are DEA agents.”

“Oh, my, really?” she gasped.

“Yes, so as you can see, your concern was unwarranted. I’m late for work. I have to scoot. I’ll talk to you later. Have a great day, Missus Newhouse.”

And with that, she stepped to the door to the one-car garage, unlocked it, and disappeared behind it. Missus Newhouse was still standing near her garage when Reina backed out of it. She waved with a forced, sweet smile on her face after she’d closed the door, and then she backed out of her driveway. Kill them with kindness was a motto she followed.

She knew she shouldn’t have told the neighborhood gossip that Jimmy and Garcia were DEA agents, even though they were. Reina was sure Bruce was dealing, and she had enough experience around men who did to know. She was out of that life and was determined to stay clean. Maybe news that a relative was a DEA agent would deter the over-friendly creep.

As Reina drove to work, she again thought about the unexpected visit the previous night. Her lips drew into a smile when she recalled how Jimmy Wilson sat on the couch beside her. She was astonished at how kind he was to her when they first met, and she’d been shot. And the fact that he’d stayed in touch with her, as he’d promised, still amazed her. She’d never met anyone like him who seemed to want nothing from her. But if he had any intentions beyond the platonic interactions they had, he hadn’t shown it. She wasn’t sure she could call it a friendship, and she’d been at a loss to classify what they were. All she knew was that she liked that he was in her life.

She was even more surprised when she received a text message from Jimmy later that morning. “Hi, it was great to see you last night. You look good, Rae. You seem happy too. I don’t often get to see positive outcomes in my line of work. I’m glad you are one of the success stories. I’ll be in touch.”

Is that what she was? A success story? She didn’t really think of herself that way. She tapped out a quick reply to his text. “Thanks. It was great to see you last night, too. I’m glad you guys stopped by.”

Wilson smiled, reading her return text. He thought again about how good she looked. It had been a small transformation, but enough to soften her appearance. From how she looked now, no one would guess she was actually a bad ass. He respected her courage, volunteering to help the DEA like she had. And she’d taken a bullet for it.

Then he tucked his phone away as his team for the next PGP Install gathered around the two SUVs that were parked in the private area of the Shepherd Security garage. Their next job site was at the Ameren Venice Power Generating Station on the Illinois side of the Mississippi River, just across the river from St. Louis, Missouri. They would drive there, as it was only about five hours away.

Assigned to this install with him were fellow Charlie Team member Carter ‘Moe’ Tessman, and Echo Team members Laura Lee ‘Lah-lee’ Saxton, Sebastian ‘Crash’ Roth, and Michael ‘Bubbles’ Cooper. It should be a relatively straightforward job. He hoped so. He could already feel the warm tropical St. Thomas air that would greet him and Tessman when they stepped from the plane.

As team lead, Wilson had just met with Shepherd. He relayed the discussion with him to the team. “Shepherd is fine with us busting ass to complete this job in a few days and taking the extra days as leave time,” Wilson said. “The plant runs twenty-four-by-seven, so we can put in as many hours as we’d like to get the install done. I’m assuming you’re all on the same page that you’d like to have a few days off.”

The others heartily agreed. All of them, except for Tessman, had significant others they wanted to get back to and enjoy a few days off work with. Tessman was also looking forward to some good scuba diving in St. Thomas.

They divided into the two SUVs and set out on the drive south. They arrived at the plant at fifteen hundred and set up, putting in a seven-hour day. It was after twenty-two hundred when they checked into the motel that lay just a few miles away, on the other side of the McKinley Bridge, on the St. Louis side of the river.

For the next three days, they worked for twelve hours each day and quickly completed the installation of the hardware. All diagnostics checked out, and the system was up and functioning when they pulled out of the lot at zero eight hundred on the fourth day. They’d be back at HQ by thirteen hundred if they kept ahead of the forecasted snowstorm that was blowing in from Iowa and Minnesota.

Wilson and Tessman found a flight leaving from O’Hare International Airport early the next morning with only one short layover and plane change in Atlanta, which would get them into St. Thomas by thirteen hundred the next day. They booked it and then let Angel, the office manager, know of their plans. She’d notify everyone needed at the agency.

By the time they reached Bloomington, Illinois, nearly the half-way point of the trip, the snow came in wet and heavy with gusty winds, instantly bringing with it near white-out conditions. They slowed to a crawl. Radar showed northern Illinois and HQ had been receiving the same for over an hour.

“This weather is not going to interfere with our trip,” Wilson told Tessman, who sat beside him in the lead SUV.

“St. Thomas in January was too good to be true,” Tessman said. “We’ll make it back to HQ, but looking at the forecast for the next twenty-four hours, it doesn’t look like our plane will be taking off. The airlines are already starting to cancel flights.” He held his phone up.

“Not our flight,” Wilson vowed.

No sooner had the words left his mouth when his phone rang an incoming call from Shepherd. He brought the phone to his ear as he answered. “Wilson.”

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