OUTCAST Ops: Red Ice

CHAPTER THREE

Rhee scowled as the smoke obscured his view of the DEA agents. Someone had rescued them, someone with skill and knowledge.

One of his soldiers addressed him. “Sir, the men on the office building and the Chavez Street security team are not answering radio calls.”

“Because they are dead, or close it.” Rhee turned toward William Hong, the Mountain Lord, leader of the Black Dao Triad. While Hong was taller and heavier than the North Korean, Rhee had no doubt he could kill the Triad leader and his bodyguards without too much trouble. “We had better leave.”

“What about your men?”

Rhee snorted. “Those men were nothing more than dregs of the local underworld. Petty criminals and street hoods looking for an easy payday and a chance to avenge themselves on the police and society in general. Disposable and deniable assets.”

Hong’s expression reminded the major of a man who had bitten into something sour. “You assume that the Americans will roll over after losing a few of their agents.”

“We do not have time to debate this. I have shown you my skills tonight. But now, we must leave. Unless you want to explain to the Americans why you are standing here with a dozen dead DEA agents and police officers.”

Hong scowled, but barked out orders in Chinese and his men scattered. Rhee nodded and walked toward the cargo truck. The appearance of an unknown group was foremost on his mind. He needed to find out if they were a threat to his operation.

The rally point was a dirt lot west of Interstate 280 and by the time the vans arrived, there were several SFPD cars, a pair of ambulances and a late-model sedan with U.S. government plates waiting for them. Pelton was placed onto a gurney and carried to a waiting ambulance, the paramedics already calling out the patient’s vital stats. The rest of the DEA survivors and their rescuers climbed out of the vans. Overhead, a pair of CHP helicopters was heading towards the pier.

Vessler looked for the unknown team leader, stopping when she spied a familiar face. “Nay?”

Naomi Washington turned at the sound of her nickname, her expression a mix of surprise and pleasure. “Vess? That you?”

They walked over to each other and embraced. “Damn girl,” Vessler said after they broke the hug. “Last I heard you’d been blackballed by the ATF. I never expected to find you—”

“Saving your ass?” Naomi finished with a grin. She became somber again. “Sorry we couldn’t get there earlier. Our plane got held up. You okay?”

Vessler scowled. “No, I’m not. I lost most of my team, including the SFPD backup. Heads are going to roll.” She looked Naomi up and down. “What are you doing? I could arrest you for half a dozen violations just looking at you!”

“Vess, will you chill out? I’m on the side of the angels.”

“But—”

“Agent Vessler?”

Vessler turned to look at a man walking up in a suit. Her first impression of him was Washington Bureaucrat, followed by the impression that he looked familiar. “And you are?”

“John Casey,” he said, sticking out a hand.

Vessler took the hand, placing the name with the face. John Casey was the former FBI director, now a special assistant to President Carmichael. Scuttlebutt inside the DEA had him handling clandestine operations, but exactly what that entailed, no one knew. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping to talk to you before your raid. I wanted my team to ride along.”

Vessler scowled. “This is your team from D.C.?”

“Well, they’re a team of independent contractors who do work for Uncle Sam.” Casey turned, looking for someone. “Tanner! Could you come over here?”

The man Vessler had pegged as the team leader walked over. In the headlights, she noticed his eyes were different colors. Casey motioned toward him. “Agent, this is Tanner Wilson, team leader for OUTCAST. Tanner this is DEA Special Agent Sarah Vessler.”

They shook hands, and Vessler could feel the strength in his arm and hand. “Sorry we were late,” he offered.

“Better late than never. We were getting slaughtered.” She looked at Casey. “Why did you want this team of yours along with for the ride, anyway? They don’t look like they arrest too many people.”

“Exactly because of what happened tonight.”

Vessler put her hands on her hips. “Look, I don’t care if you have the president’s ear or his — any other part of his body. I don’t need a group of rogue cowboys trampling all over my case!”

“Your case looks pretty well burnt,” Tanner said. “And if we had been any later, you and the rest of your agents would have been dead.”

Vessler bristled, but before she could reply, Casey stepped between them. “Enough. There’s too much emotion happening right now. I suggest that we all get some sleep and reconvene at the DEA office at nine A.M.”

“Fine!” Vessler hissed. She spun on a heel and walked off.

Tanner looked at Naomi. “Friend of yours?”

Naomi nodded. “We worked a few DEA-ATF cases together back in the day. More than once, we were the only girls in the boys club. We bonded over that.”

“I suggest you talk to her in the morning,” Casey said. “Better she’s with us than against us.”