“The post office is a huge building. It’ll take us forever to search it all.” I had no idea how that would happen.
“Maybe not, Isis.” I stopped to look at Constantine. “Think about it. The building is on top of State Line. They really don’t need to access the inside to get the most benefits. The outside of it would do. Besides, it’s Saturday. They would draw too much attention walking into a federal building.”
“That’s good news, right? We drive around till we find the door.” I was trying to sound optimistic.
“Something like that.” Constantine needed to work on his optimism.
“OK, boys, we need to be rolling by five p.m. That gives us less than four hours. I’ll get the gear ready. You both know what to do. We have a war to plan; let’s go.”
Both Bartholomew and Constantine nodded at me. While the boys took care of transportation, surveillance, and police issues, I was going to prep the firepower. For the first time, I prayed that Constantine had ordered every weapon he could imagine.
Chapter 34
Why was I surprised that we were late leaving Reapers? It was 5:24 p.m. by the time we headed downtown. Granted, it wasn’t a very long drive, but I was going at least three miles below the speed limit. This job was making me a real law-biding citizen when it came to traffic laws. We carried too much firepower. Not to mention Bartholomew and I were dressed for war. It wasn’t hunting season, I was told, so we couldn’t even use that as an excuse. Constantine had come through on the ride, as usual. We had an F-150, white, with dual cab and extended bed. Constantine wanted to make sure we could transport a large group of people.
By the time we made it downtown, my adrenaline was pumping. We needed to do something soon, before I had a heart attack. Bartholomew was busy working his magic with his laptop. I couldn’t explain what he was doing; all I got was that the cameras would be disabled and perimeter secure. I was sure those words did not have the same meaning for him as they had for me.
“Done. Downtown is secure.” Bartholomew had a huge smile on his face. I was really worried.
“Why are you all smiles?” He did look suspicious.
“When we blow up the post office, nobody will be able to blame us.”
“We’re not planning to blow up anything.”
“Of course not. But just in case, we’re covered.”
As much as I was hoping we could avoid mass destruction, I didn’t want to take any chances. I let Bartholomew finish his final checks.
Shorty had done his part. Downtown was deserted. Not a soul was walking around anywhere. Even the businesses that were normally open late on Saturday were shut down tight. That at least made me feel better. The fewer pedestrians around, the better. We drove around the post office several times and saw nothing. Had we made a mistake? Where could they possible be?
“Constantine, are you seeing anything?” Constantine was manning the drone, which was really scary on its own. It wasn’t just any drone; it was military issue, with high-power cameras, heat sensors, and a few machine guns. His idea of watching the fort was dealing death from above. I was sure Constantine was part of the Eighty-Second Airborne—similar philosophy.
“The skies are clear, and not a soul on the ground. What did you tell Shorty to do, kill them all? He really cleared the town.” Constantine was coming through the headpiece extremely clear.
“I was wondering the same thing myself. There isn’t a soul in town. Anything on the scanners?” Constantine was also in charge of monitoring all the police scanners as well as the supernatural world. We were running out of time.
“Strange—they got an anonymous call reporting strange people with guns at Union Station. The caller mentioned seeing one of the missing people being dragged into the building.”
Bartholomew looked at me, and I shook my head.
“That sounds too convenient. What do you think, Constantine?” I was sure the witches were not at Union Station. That place was abandoned. It was a train station owned by a civilian, one of the few in the country, and it wasn’t in use. This could be another trap.
“We’re running out of time. The cops are on the scene, and the place has been locked down. It doesn’t feel right.” At least we were all on the same page. “Eric is on the scene now. Swing by and see if you can talk to him. Just be careful with the MRAP.”
“MRAP? Like the mine-resistant ambush-protected vehicle? That MRAP?” Was Constantine high?
“Yes, that one. Did I stutter? Why are you spelling things out for me?” Constantine had no problem going from happy to pissy in under two seconds. I was blaming his feline nature.
“Why would Texarkana have an MRAP?” What mine or ambush were they expecting in the middle of town?
“It’s part of their SWAT. Try not to get kill or arrested down there. Keep me posted. I’m going to do another round with the drone. Constantine out.”
“Is Constantine talking about himself in the third person?” I looked at Bartholomew.
“Are you surprised about that?” OK, he did have a good point.
I was on Seventh Street, and I took a right on State Line to head to Union Square. “That’s weird.”
“What?”
“I thought I saw two people playing chess in there.”
He was still looking at the Vietnam memorial.
“Should we turn around?” I asked Bartholomew, confused. I didn’t want to miss anything.
“Let’s go find Eric first.” I looked in the rearview mirror but kept on driving. I trusted Bartholomew’s judgment here.
Union Station, or the Texarkana Train Station, was another one of those beautiful buildings that was neglected and falling apart. All the new buildings and businesses were going west on 30.
