Page 7 of All Twisted Up
“Is this going to be a problem, Sorensen?” Turley asked smugly. “Because if you’re afraid, then maybe we should get a better team.” He turned to SAC Bradley. “Is this really the best you’ve got?”
I could feel the palpable anger in the room, but the way my boss’ face turned red was really a sight to see. If I were a betting man, I’d guess Captain Candy Sorensen, decorated Green Beret, was doing everything he could not to launch himself at the smug bastard questioning our team’s value to the operation. I’d also bet Turley had never seen a day’s service in the military, which just made everything he was saying that much worse. No one questioned our team’s ability to do our jobs or our commitment to follow orders to the letter. No one.
Instead of killing the man outright, he did one better. Candy completely ignored the insult, looking straight at SAC Bannister.
“We will follow orders, ma’am…to the letter. I just wanted to point out once again, that not evacuating civilians beforehand, is reckless and stupid,” he said through clenched teeth. “I want that on the record.”
“Noted, Special Agent Sorensen,” Bannister said. She faced the room and cleared her throat. “Now that you know what’s happening, we’ll leave you with your team leader so you can work out the details.” She glanced at Bradley. “Are we good?”
Bradley nodded sharply. “We’re good.”
She and Turley walked out of the room and shut the door. Even the stupidest person on the planet could feel the collective tension in the room leave with them. I held my breath as Bradley looked at us before transferring his gaze to Candy. He held out his hand and Candy shook it. “Thank you for your input, Sorensen. Work out the details with your team.” He let out a surprising sigh and I heard the relief in it.
Candy nodded sharply. “Yes, sir. See you at 0530 at the staging area tomorrow.”
“Will do, Captain.”
Bradley exited the room, and I felt the air change around me as Candy eyed us up.
I could tell by the way he held himself—proud and tall—that he was pissed. He glanced at Judy and smiled, nodding politely. “Thank you, Judy.”
She saluted and I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling. “Aye, aye, Captain,” she said brightly. Leaning close, she said, “Never let the asshats get you down.” She slapped him on the back. Several people did laugh at that as she took her iPad and left.
Candy’s resolve was openly displayed on his face as the door shut behind her. “Carson Turley is a total waste of space,” he said, “but we’re going to follow the plan down to the letter. Does everyone hear me?” He looked straight at me even though the question was directed to the whole room. “Are we good?” I nodded.
“Yes, sir!” we all shouted at once.
This was going to be a total clusterfuck. I just knew it.
Chapter Two
NASH
Los Angeles’ Chinatown was situated right in the heart of the city, halfway between the L.A. County Sheriff Men’s Central Jail and Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels. It was ironic that Pedro Gomez would have chosen this location to hole up—situated between lightness and darkness.
When we arrived at 0500 this morning, it was still dark and a half hour before we were to meet with the DEA’s Tac Team. I knew Candy had ordered us here early to work out his own plan of action ahead of time. It was his way. The staging area the DEA chose was a public parking lot which wouldn’t be busy with tourists until after nine, at which point, we planned on being out of here with the suspect orsuspects, in custody. As soon as Clifford parked the BearCat, Candy threw open the door and gestured with two fingers.
“I need Hampstead, Monroe, and Way. The rest of you hold tight. I’ll be back in fifteen.”
He started to close the door when a long arm stopped it. “You don’t want me, Captain?”
“Not yet, Clifford,” Candy replied. “I already have an idea where you’ll be setting up. Be back soon.”
“Yes, sir.” I watched Marshall Clifford retake his seat, sensing his dejection as Candy slammed the door. The man was never happier than when he was behind the wheel or had a sniper rifle in his hand.
“Let’s go.” We headed toward the building in question, three blocks down. The pavement was uneven in places, patched on many more. We jogged over the wide sidewalk, avoiding tripping over tree roots that had pushed up through broken concrete. The deserted street was dark and the weather cool. But I was glad my long-sleeved winter tac gear wasn’t overly warm by the time we entered an office building opposite the target four minutes later.
“Tenth floor,” Candy said, pushing through a door at the back of the lobby, heading to the stairwell. We set off at a jog and when we reached the tenth, Candy led us out to a corridor full of various office doors. I was irritated to see Carson Turley waiting for us outside an open door. He was wearing a smug expression as we joined him in front of it. The sign outside was written in both English and Chinese, and I noted it was some sort of accounting firm.
“Figured you’d want to get a lay of the land from height since your team will be covering the outside of the building…just wanted to make sure you understand how this is gonna go,” he said in that snarling tone I already disliked.
“That’s right,” Candy said, folding his arms over his big chest as he looked down at the shorter man. “But I don’t know why you’re here.”
He threw up both hands and when he chuckled, there was no warmth in it. “Whoa there. No reason to get hostile. I just had an idea.”
“Thanks,” Candy growled. “That wassuperthoughtful.”
The sarcasm lacing my boss’ voice couldn’t be missed. Neither could the irritation.
