"Okay, guys, this just came in." Harrelson handed out papers to each team member.
"The Feds asked for our assistance with a drug sting they have set up in the old Fenwick warehouse. This will be a joint effort with them, us, and Sunset SWAT." Harrelson paced between the desks. "They want us in place well before the participants come in."
"That means," Deke said, "that you should hit the head before we head out."
"Wise advice," Harrelson said, laughing with the rest of the team. "We don't know if the wait will be thirty minutes or three hours."
The men scrambled for the restrooms, upstairs and down.
#
"They want all of us up and out of the way," instructed Harrelson. "Being invisible is critical.
"We'll be on the right side, Sunset is taking the left. The Feds will be on the floor." Harrelson looked steadily at each of his men. "Do not shoot unless you're fired upon. There will be a staggering amount of firepower in this building when this goes down. Unless you can see from your vantage point that a good guy is in deadly peril or that a bad guy is escaping – and you must be absolutely sure that is what you see – then hold all fire unless you are a target. Understood?"
Harrelson waited until each man gave him an affirmative response.
"Okay. Here's a map of the planned placement of our manpower." Harrelson handed everyone a map. "Sunset is here," Harrelson pointed to five points on the left side of his paper. "We're here," his finger touched five points on the right. "I'm one; Deke, two; Street, three; McCabe, four; and Luca, five. The Xs mark the Fed positions, which may change depending on what the others do.
"Any questions?"
With no responses, Harrelson released the team to take their positions.
#
At the forty-five minute mark, Jim could hardly stay still. Lying on his stomach behind a narrow gap in a row of shipping crates gave him perfect concealment, but irritated his injury to an unbearable point. Even though he sweated profusely, waves of chills washed over him and nausea had his stomach churning. Peering down, he prayed for the action to begin.
Dom counted down the seconds: three, two, one – fifty minutes had now passed since he'd wedged between these all-too-familiar rafter beams. No position remained comfortable beyond seven minutes and sixteen seconds. He was really glad he'd taken Deke's advice before they left Olympic.
Squinting, TJ thought he glimpsed one of the Sunset members, but it was likely just a shadow. Even with the map showing their locations, TJ couldn't see anyone and wondered if they were trying to make the Olympic team. He knew where Jim and Deke were located, but their concealment was complete. Dom and Hondo were not positioned within his view, but he was just as sure he wouldn't see them if they were. He counted seven Feds on the floor below, visible only because of his position above them. He began his position study again; his fourth run through.
Deke wiped sweat out of his eyes. The heat was stifling up so high. The exhaust fan on the south end of the building turned lazily, not enough to stir the stagnant air. Even though he tried not to, he checked his watch. One hour had passed – one hour and about four pounds of fluid loss.
Harrelson sat motionless, except for his eyes. Like in the jungle years past, he absorbed every detail, made mental notes. He wanted no surprises when things heated up in here – with luck, before this second hour was over.
#
After ninety-four minutes of waiting, the Judas gate in the south roller door opened, admitting seven men. Three carried briefcases; four carried automatic weapons. Harrelson was certain the other three were carrying handguns, possibly folding-stock rifles in the cases. He could hear them talking to the undercover Feds once they reached the desk.
"Damn rough weather over Texas delayed our plane," a slick-haired man said. "Let's get this done. Show me what you've got."
"Been sitting here so long, I almost went to sleep," one of the Feds complained.
"If you don't show us the stuff, you'll be permanently asleep." The four gunners crowded around Slick-hair.
"Settle down," the Fed said. "You want it as much as I want to get rid of it. If I'm permanently asleep, you won't be getting any more."
"Lots of fish in this ocean," Slick-hair growled.
"Not too many fish can swim in water this pure," the Fed crowed. "Here, test for yourself." He handed over a baggie of white powder and the four gunners all grabbed for it at once.
"You idiots!" Slick-hair pushed his drooling group aside. "If this shit is as pure as advertised, you'd all keel over with heart attacks. Stay back."
Slick-hair opened his case and removed a test tube with liquid in it. With a small spoon, he tapped a few grains of the powder into the tube and swirled it around. The group smiled broadly as the cobalt thiocyanate in the tube turned bright blue.
"See, I told you," the Fed gloated.
"That just proves you have caine related product, not necessarily cocaine exclusively. I have one more test." Slick-hair produced a square of aluminum foil and placed a small amount of the powder in the middle of it. Holding the foil by a corner, he lit a Zippo under the powder, watching it burn.
Slick-hair nodded. "Very clear, very little residue."
"How much do you want?" the Fed asked.
"What's the price?" Slick-hair put his stuff back in the case and closed it.
"Ten-G a brick. You'll make sixty at least."
"Five," Slick-hair countered.
"Fifteen." The Fed took the baggie off the desk.
"You son-of-a-bitch." Slick-hair drew a semi-auto pistol from his waistband.
The Fed threw the contents of the still open baggie into the faces of Slick-hair and the four gunners, diving for cover.
All hell broke loose.
Harrelson wasn't sure who shot first from above, but his guess was TJ. One of the four gunners had a bead on one of the Feds but collapsed with a bullet from above before getting the shot off. The buyers scattered and a fire at will order went out.
One of the buyer gunners tried climbing up to one of the catwalks, but Harrelson picked him off, dropping him twelve feet to the floor.
A hot battle flared at the south end directly under the Sunset positions. Harrelson heard his men popping strategic shots in support. One buyer had his rifle pointing straight up, firing on auto. He saw Street uncover to get a shot, heard the double-tap shots, and saw the buyer slam into a stack of boxes and slide to the floor.
"Jim's down."
Harrelson whirled around at Luca's call on the radio. "Can anyone get to him?" He started making his way down to where he last saw Street.
"I'm pinned," TJ called.
"Me, too," Luca radioed.
"I'm on my way," Deke responded.
Deke reached Jim ten paces ahead of Harrelson. Together they pulled Jim behind a stack of crates. He was out cold and pale as a ghost.
"Rapid," Deke said, his fingers on Jim's carotid.
Harrelson inspected Street's vest, finding a tear on the left side. He reached underneath the vest, his hand clean and dry when removed. "Vest held the shot. But it's right over his previous injury."
The shooting dwindled to sporadic. TJ scurried in behind Deke.
"How is he?" TJ asked.
"Vest took the shot. No penetration," Harrelson said.
"Man, those still hurt like crazy." TJ laid his hand on Jim's chest. "Take it easy, man." He edged around his teammate and continued to scout.
Panting, Dom took TJ's spot. "How is he?"
"Vest shot. No penetration," Deke repeated.
"Why's he look like that?" Dom asked.
"Like what?" asked Harrelson.
"Like a vampire drained him," Dom said.
Jim stirred. Tryed to sit up, groaned, and curled protectively around his left side.
Two more gunshots sounded, then someone below called 'all clear'.
Deke looked to Harrelson. "How we gonna get him down from here?"
#
Giving his teammates as much help as he could muster, Jim descended from the upper catwalk, collapsing onto a waiting ambulance gurney. His head was spinning so fast that he wasn't even aware of who was around him. He felt hands patting him and knew his teammates were there. He hoped he hadn't let them down.
#
Harrelson paced. Deke sat staring at an undecipherable painting across the waiting room. Dom and TJ stood in the corner talking quietly. When Betty Harrelson entered the hospital waiting room, she ticked off each member. Jim Street, she noted the missing person.
"Betty." Harrelson stopped pacing and stared at his wife.
Crossing to her husband, Betty took his hand. "I heard one of the Olympic guys had been shot. I had to make sure … how's Jim?"
Dan Harrelson hugged his wife, knowing she'd been worried sick to come to the hospital. He mentally kicked himself for not calling her sooner to assure her that he was fine. He'd underestimated the speed of the grapevine.
He pulled away, reluctantly, and looked into her soft, caring eyes. "Doc rushed him into surgery, saying something about his spleen."
"Surgery? Oh, Dan … his spleen? Was he shot?"
The deep caring in his wife's face for one of his men nearly stripped Harrelson's tight control.
"His vest stopped the shot, but the shock, along with the injury he already had ..." Dan shook his head.
Her questioning look deepened Dan's already guilty conscious. "I may have damaged his spleen in our … training. This shot shock compounded the injury." He could no longer look at her and paced away.
Taking a moment to digest what Dan had said and collect her thoughts, Betty slowly walked to stand behind Dan. He stood stiffly in front of the double doors leading to the surgical wing.
"Dan, how could Jim have been working with internal injuries? Surely he would've been …"
Betty took a step back when Dan whirled around, his eyes burned into her. "He was hurting – hurting bad. We ignored it. I ignored it." He shifted his gaze to a spot on the wall behind her. "I didn't want to think I was capable of hurting a team member."
"It was training, Dan." She hated to see her husband in such distress, but she understood it.
"It was the worst miscalculation I've made. I told them to only go sixty percent, but I couldn't do it myself."
"Oh, Dan." Betty put her hand on his arm, gently. "I know how you guys are. There is nothing you guys don't do at one hundred and ten percent."
Dan pulled his wife close. "And we're all as stubborn and hard-headed as Street. He couldn't submit to the pain and we couldn't admit that we saw it."
Deke walked up to them. "I really thought Jim just needed a couple of slow days to heal up. No one, not even Jim, thought it was this bad."
"I saw the bruise when you sent us home early," Dom said as he and TJ joined the group. "It was impressive and he tried to hide it." He looked at Deke and Harrelson. "I should've said something."
"We all should've said something – including Jim," Harrelson told his team. "Remember this and I don't want to see anyone hiding an injury – no matter how you got it."
Everyone nodded agreement and settled into the uncomfortable chairs, awaiting word.
#
The team jumped up when the double doors swung open. Jim looked as pale as the sheets tucked around him on the gurney. Tubes snaked down from bottles of medicine and blood into his arms. Somber, everyone watched until the gurney turned the corner.
"Doc," Harrelson said, stopping the surgeon. "How is he?"
Doc Morgan removed his sweat-stained cap. "He's going to be all right, Hondo." The doc shook his head. "He's a tough one. Looks like he had a bruised spleen earlier and that bullet blow caused a rupture in the weakened area. He's lucky you got him here quickly."
Harrelson pulled his hand over his face. "Did he lose it?"
Doc Morgan shook his head. "No. It was a small rupture. I repaired it. You'll have to do without him for about eight weeks, though. It has to heal completely before returning to duty."
"He'll get all the time he needs, I can assure you that." Harrelson shook hands with Doc Morgan. "Thank you, doc."
"My pleasure, Hondo." Doc looked at Dom's black eye and TJ's cut lip and shook his head again. "You guys are nuts." He followed after the gurney.
"It's good he didn't lose his spleen, right," TJ asked.
"Not losing internal organs is always a good thing," Deke answered.
"Eight weeks?" Dom said, "I bet he's back in six, tops."
Everyone gave Dom a pained look.
"What?" Dom shrugged. "It's Jim Street we're talking about here. No way he's staying down that long."
Harrelson rolled his eyes heavenward. "There's no help for them."