Page 67 of Return of the Spider
“It could,” he said, “but I—”
We both heard vehicles approaching and tires crunching on the driveway into the warehouse. A few moments later, two black Chevy Suburbans rolled up to the gate, which the armed guards opened.
As they drove in and parked near the second loading dock, John double-clicked the radio, said, “Chief Pittman, this is John Sampson. We’ve got action here in Davidsonville. Two vehicles. One of them could be the Suburban used in the drive-by.”
Pittman came back immediately: “You’ve got that confirmed, Sampson? Can you see your bullet holes?”
“Negative. Too far and there’s fog, but stand by. Doors are opening and—”
“I’ve got Rodolpho coming out of the first Suburban,” I said. “Three guys with him, all armed, heading toward the first loading dock door.”
“And here’s Prince from the back of the second Suburban,” Sampson said. “Three other armed men with him are going to the rear of the vehicle.”
One of the gunmen opened the back door and pulled out Officer Donovan. She was blindfolded and gagged with her wrists tied behind her.
“We’ve got Donovan,” both of us said at the same time.
“That’s confirmed?” Pittman demanded.
Sampson said, “Yes. They’re taking her inside in restraints, blindfolded, and gagged.”
“Hold your position,” Pittman came back. “I’m notifying the Maryland state police and everyone else with jurisdiction out there. Repeat: Unless you believe Donovan’s life is being threatened, hold your position until we’ve got the kind of team we need to contain and breach the place safely.”
“ETA on that, Chief?”
“Two hours, maybe?”
“And if they try to leave with her in the meantime, sir?” I asked.
“Then you stop them, Detective Cross.”
“Roger that,” I said. “We’re standing by.”
“Don’t send sirens or flashing lights,” Sampson said.
“Roger that,” Pittman said.
Two minutes later, we heard a diesel engine rumbling and then gravel crunching. An eighteen-wheeler emerged from the fog and the trees and pulled up to the gate.
The guards seemed to recognize the driver and opened the gates. The rig rolled forward and hard to the right of the two Suburbans and backed up to the third loading dock. The overhead door rose, revealing four more armed men in the bay.
“Looks like something important is getting delivered,” Sampson said.
“Yeah,” I said. “This is starting to get—”
Out in the fog near the far northwest corner of the fence, an explosive device detonated in a dull flash and blast that, even at a distance, boxed our ears and pulsed through our chests.
CHAPTER
54
We’d no sooner recoveredfrom the shock of the blast than the wind shifted, intensified, and cleared away ribbons of fog. We saw many of Prince’s men racing through the construction equipment and piles of supplies toward the site of the explosion.
Sampson triggered his mic. “Chief, we just had a bomb go off at Davidsonville.”
“What? Repeat!”
Before John could, the wind blew another clear lane through the fog, revealing a heavily armed force of at least eight attackers in black hoods entering through a hole in the fence in the northwest corner of the complex. They spread out behind a bulldozer and a dump truck and began firing at the LMC 51 gunmen, who released their dogs.
