Page 54 of Operation: Sharp Angel

They lay in silence, just holding each other for five wonderful minutes. Then his phone buzzed. He pulled it from the nightstand. It was a meeting invitation from Shepherd. He acknowledged the meeting. “I’m sorry. I have to get up. I have a meeting with Shepherd in fifteen minutes to go over the Op to get the cameras and mics in Briana’s client’s house.”

“What time will you be out doing that?” she asked.

“Not until around ten hundred this morning. You’ll be fine here, right?”

“Yes, I know I’m safe here. What else can I do to help try to figure out what those men were looking for? Jesus Christ! They tore my house apart. It has to be something important.”

“I’m sorry that we are no closer to figuring it out than when you hired us. We have theories, but that’s it.”

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” she asked as he got out of bed.

“I wish there was,” he said. He went over to the Keurig. “I’ll make you a cup of coffee before I go.”

She pulled herself up from the bed. “You don’t have to do that. I can make my own.”

“I’m making myself a quick cup too,” he said. “I’ll take it with me to Shepherd’s office and bring the mug back after.”

“Okay, in that case, thank you.” She crossed over to and sealed herself in the bathroom.

He used it after her, grabbing a new toothbrush from the cabinet where a supply was housed. When he emerged, he shot her a grin. “My toothbrush is the blue one. I left it in the cup next to yours. Hope you don’t mind.”

***

At zero nine forty, the three vehicles the Shepherd Security Team were using were parked in the convenience store parking lot of the tiny strip mall one block from the home of Briana’s client, Simone Hoch. Tessman drove a borrowed cable television company work truck, as did Jackson and Smith. Tessman had no idea how Shepherd always secured anything the team needed. All three of them even had valid ID identifying them as employees.

Briana drove a late model sedan with many dents and scratches. It was registered in the name Chris Mack and Briana carried a valid Illinois driver’s license and insurance card in that name. Shepherd guaranteed it would hold up to the local LEOs scrutiny after she crashed into Simone’s husband’s car.

“Now don’t forget to cut the wheel and hit his car with the tail end of your car so you don’t get hurt,” Jackson reminded her.

“Roger that,” she said. “I’ll only be going thirty or so, so I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, Tessman, you go first as planned and make sure you’re in the street enough that her swerving to miss your vehicle is plausible.”

“Okay, I’m on comms,” Tessman said as he stepped towards the borrowed truck. “Stay vigilant Briana. This guy might come out swinging.”

“I almost hope he does. I’d love to flatten his ass to the ground.”

Tessman chuckled as he opened the driver’s side door of the truck.

“Okay, we’re heading to the street behind theirs, so we’re ready to move in through the back,” Jackson said. Then he and Smith moved towards the cable television work truck they’d be driving. “Time your move, so you come up their street at exactly one minute after ten.”

Briana nodded. Then she got behind the wheel of the sedan.

Tessman parked the work truck as planned, kitty-corner from Simone and Jacob Hoch’s home. He glanced at the car parked in the driveway, a candy apple red nineteen seventies Camaro. Holy shit. Briana was going to crash into that beauty! Then his gaze went to the window over the garage, which Briana had advised was his home office. He could make out a male figure sitting in front of it. It was five minutes to ten. Jacob’s regular weekly call always lasted until ten hundred hours. And his wife said he then spent fifteen minutes going through the emails he missed while on the call. He would be at his desk until at least ten-fifteen.

Tessman got out and put cones near his vehicle and approached the green utility box for cable television service. He kneeled beside it and accessed the panel like a workman would. “In position,” he broadcast through comms. He listened through comms and heard Jackson’s confirmation that he and Smith were in position at the rear of the house as well.

“Slowly making my way into the neighborhood,” Briana transmitted at ten hundred hours on the dot.

Tessman’s eyes flickered to the window over the garage again. Jacob Hoch still sat in front of the window. Tessman activated the video function on his phone and videoed the inside of the panel, his finger tracing a wire through the panel. Then he shifted his gaze on the road, in the direction Briana would approach from. At exactly 10:01, the sedan turned the corner. She accelerated as she neared the work truck he’d parked. She swerved, heading straight for the Camaro. At the last second, she turned sharply. The back end fishtailed, crashing right into the front bumper of the vintage car. Its car alarm immediately screamed through the neighborhood.

Even with the upstairs window closed, Tessman heard Hoch scream, “What the fuck! No! My car!”

Tessman smiled, a small chuckle escaping from his mouth. He sat his phone on the utility box and left the record function going. He’d capture it all.

“Calling the police now,” Jackson transmitted.

A moment later, an irate Jacob Hoch burst through the front door. “What the fuck?” His gaze fixed on Briana, who now stood near her car, which had bounced off the Camaro and stopped a few feet away. “You stupid bitch! Look what you did to my car!”

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