“It’s moving pretty fast and it’s not very big, just long,” the controller said. “About an hour.”
“Thanks, Mr. Adams,” the voice said. “I’m sorry. Tyndall is clear.”
“Okay, guys, this is it,” the Federal Bureau of Investigation special agent in charge, Gary Hardison, said. He was surrounded by two plainclothes agents, a team of four FBI Special Weapons and Tactics officers, and a squad of eight federal Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms agents, all in full body armor and tactical helmets and carrying submachine guns. “It’s the culmination of eighteen months of undercover work to get close to this gang. It all happens in about an hour.”
Hardison stepped over to a large presentation board with overhead satellite photographs of the objective and a hand-drawn diagram of their ingress plan. “Here’s the hangar where they want to make the exchange, in the middle of the first row nearest to the taxiway. Be on the lookout for planes and pilots on the airport, but the weather has been stormy, so the airport manager believes there won’t be any pilots on the airport. To be sure, he’s deactivated everyone’s gate access cards except ours so they won’t be able to get onto the airport until we’re done. We’ve verified that the other hangars are occupied, the identities of the owners have been checked, and the airport manager has deactivated their gate cards so they won’t be able to get in.
“The objective hangar has a single plane, a King Air 350 twin-engine plane that the suspects want to use to transport the materials. We’ve had a Predator unmanned aircraft overhead all evening, watching for any signs that the gang tries to put anyone up on the roof — if they do, we’ll be alerted, and we’ll call it off if we can’t take the shooter down. I’ll be watching the UAV’s video feed from here.
“Riley will go through the electric gate, which will be under observation by the gang,” Hardison continued. “Stricker will follow in the sedan. They’ll drive through, let the guards check them, the sedan, and the truck, then drive up to the hangar — I expect they’ll have at least one perp with you in the truck and sedan and at least one perp staying back at the gate. Once they’re cleared in and drive to the hangar, they’ll go in first with the cash, and then they’ll lead the smugglers out to the truck to let them test the materials. Once they approve the materials and we don’t get any warning beeps, you’ll take down the guys outside the hangar, and then we’ll signal the SWAT and ATF teams to fly in to clear the hangar.”
Hardison motioned to a lone uniformed officer. “Captain Derek Coulter from the Yuba County Sheriff’s Department is in charge of the SWAT team,” the FBI special agent went on. “After we take down the guys outside the hangar and the choppers are en route, he and his men will move in to close the airport and block the runway, taxiways, and exits. They’ll be out of sight here in the warehouse complex until the takedown. Captain?”
“We have six vehicles involved in blocking the runways and taxiways, with two deputies in each vehicle,” Coulter said. “Two will be near the hangar where the operation will take place, blocking the north end of the runway and the main taxiway. We’ll be monitoring the tactical freq, so if you need any help or if the situation changes, we’ll be standing by. We also have a chopper standing by at the fire department helipad, just a couple minutes away. My guys have worked with the FBI on numerous occasions. Good luck.”
“Thanks, Derek,” Hardison said. “To continue: The SWAT helicopters will touch down on the taxiway outside the hangar, which hopefully will be the first indication to those inside the hangar that something’s up. The hangar door should be closed; there’s a single walk-through door on the left side of the hangar door. The hangar has a twenty-foot-high roof with a lot of beams overhead, so, everyone, be sure to clear upward as well as around. It’s fairly cluttered in there with rolling tool chests, lights, jacks, and the like, so Hess, Scott, Edwards, and Caffery, be extra careful.
“The hangar has a bathroom in the southeast corner and a second-story studio apartment in the northeast corner — those are the important areas to cover,” Hardison went on. “The bathroom has no windows — Harris and Vasquez, you’ll have to make your way around the plane to cover the can. Be careful for air hoses and other trip machines on the floor, and the roof of the bathroom has a flat surface that they use to store shit, so cover that too. The apartment has a single window overlooking the hangar but no window on the door, so Carter and Meredith, you should be able to get up the stairs while McGinty and Cromwell cover the window from below.
“Hartman and Benz, you guys got the King Air 350. Entry door on the plane’s left side, and small opening window on the right and left sides of the cockpit that’s big enough to poke the muzzle of a gun out, so be on the lookout. There’s an emergency exit on the plane’s right side, but you should have lots of time to notice it if they try to pop it out to fire on you. Stay sharp. Once the hangar is clear, we’ll bring in forensics and hazmat and start scrubbing the place down.”
Hardison fielded questions, got an update on the weather and the status of the sheriff’s department personnel, did a time hack with everyone, then dismissed the teams to do their own briefings and check their weapons and equipment. At the prearranged time, the teams headed to their cars, and the operation was under way. Four Bell Jet Ranger helicopters were parked in the large loading area between two long rows of vacant warehouses, and the SWAT guys started to board.
Riley drove the windowless panel van to the proper airport entrance gate, followed by Stricker in a small sedan. Inside the gate, a lone car sat under a tree at an airport car-rental parking lot. When the FBI agent flashed his lights, a man with sunglasses, a plaid shirt with a white T-shirt underneath, and what looked like cowboy boots got out of the car inside the gate. He did not appear to be carrying a weapon, but the FBI agent knew a clever gunman could conceal a half-dozen weapons with that simple attire.
The man walked toward the gate until he recognized Stricker in the sedan, then nodded back to his car. It started up — Riley didn’t even see the other man in the car, which reminded him to stay sharp around these guys. The car drove toward the gate until the sensors in the pavement activated and started opening the gate, then backed up, turned around, and stopped just a few feet away. The van and sedan pulled in through the gate, and they waited until the gate began to close.
As soon as it did, the man in the plaid shirt got into the van on the passenger side and quickly checked the cargo area. At the same moment a second unseen man got into the passenger side of the sedan and ordered Stricker to open the trunk. When he did, yet another unseen man appeared, checked the trunk, flashed a thumbs- up, and disappeared.
“You guys are good — they came out of nowhere,” Riley remarked.
“Let’s go,” the first man said, ignoring the comment. “Speed limit is ten miles an hour.”
They drove past the self-serve aviation fueling station, across the transient parking ramp, and northward down an automobile access road along a row of hangars. No other cars or airplanes were in sight. They drove almost all the way down the row to the second-to-last hangar and stopped. The driver of the lead car pulled out a walkie-talkie and spoke, and a few minutes later a man came out of the hangar, carrying a suitcase.
“Right on time, Riley,” the man from inside the hangar said. “I like that.”
“Being late is a sign of disrespect, and it’s bad business, Sullivan,” Riley said. He nodded at the suitcase. “Is that all of it?”
“Half,” the man named Sullivan said.
Riley narrowed his eyes. “What is this shit, Sullivan? We didn’t agree to a split.”
“I want to check the packages outside first,” Sullivan said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small device that resembled a large garage-door opener. “If they pass, your friend there gets the cash. We’ll bring the van inside the hangar to check the packages with the larger device, and if they check out, you can leave with the rest.”
Riley hesitated, then shook his head. “Bring your larger device out here.”
“It’ll attract too much attention,” the man said. He nodded to the second undercover agent and tossed the suitcase to him. “Check it.” Stricker took the suitcase to his car and opened it. Inside were dozens of stacks of bills, mostly hundreds. He flipped through several stacks to be sure they weren’t padded with counterfeit currency, then quickly counted the stacks. Each stack was $10,000, for a total of about $150,000.
Stricker closed the suitcase and emerged from his car. “Half the total. One fifty K.”
“Now, that’s worth a peek, isn’t it?” Sullivan asked with a smile.
“That’s all you get for one fifty is a peek,” Riley said. “If you want to bring the van inside the hangar, it’ll cost you another one fifty. Larry will take the cash while you test the packages.”
Sullivan nodded at the second undercover agent. “You trust him with your three hundred thousand dollars?”
“Stricker knows his life won’t be worth spit if he screws me,” Riley said. “Let’s get on with it.”
