*****
Wilkes took the news update well.
An unfamiliar voice crackled in his ear. It was disturbing in every way imaginable.
“We’re at the trailer, the father is out, we found two security guards stripped and unconscious. Do we have containment on the crowd?”
Wilkes could barely contain a thunderous, almost out-of-body anger. “They saw us coming. Get into the crowd. The local police are on their way, we’ll have roadblocks up in ten minutes.”
Legacy cut in through the radio chatter. “Ten minutes will be too late. Blue gave them a plan and he knows our playbook, you’re going to have to go off the page to bring these guys down.”
It killed the career officer to countermand his own order, but he’d been wrong in a room in which Legacy was right before. He could credit his decision almost as much to protecting his dignity as agreeing with Legacy. “Legacy is right.” He knew right after he said it that Legacy could put himself in charge of any situation, as he was now in charge of this operation. The men reported to him, but Legacy was running the show. “I need sharpshooters on the high ground, and every available agent standing in the middle of every road leading from the venue. Nobody leaves.” He pulled the headset microphone away from his lips, afraid that he couldn’t contain his frustration from erupting into a tirade that would likely include every vulgarity in the English language interspersed with Russian and Farsi slurs he’d learned on assignment. He would say them all if he lost Sabita tonight, but not now. He let the mic spring back realizing something about the field report. “Where is Agent Brent?”