“We don’t know, though,” Rae said. “I’m thinking we go in really hard, flashbangs through exposed windows, hit the door with a ram. There’s CBS construction up to waist height; that’ll be a problem for lighter weapons if there’s a fight.”
All the overhead views of the house were obscured by the heavy year-round foliage. “There’ll either be a fence or a hedge to separate it from the house behind it,” Rocha said. “We’ll have SWAT guys coming in from the backyard and they’ll have to cross that before we hit the front of the house.”
“We need all the tactical people copied in on this and that includes Bob and Rae,” Rocha said to Lucas. “You’re not tactical, so you stay behind. Mac isn’t tactical, either, so he stays. Lake is technical, and I’m the boss, so we gotta be there for the meeting. You guys get to sleep in.”
“I’d like to be involved.”
“Well, you’ll be here. But not running around in the street—we’ll have ten or twelve guys with rifles and vests and helmets and we don’t need some guy in a suit confusing things. I won’t be out there, I’ll be in a truck with Lake.”
Lucas gave in. “But I’ll be there as soon as it’s over.”
“That’s fine. You’re invited.” She patted him on the back and he didn’t like it.
* * *
—
BOB AND RAE went to bed early because they’d be meeting with the SWAT team at the Altadena Sheriff’s Station, which was only a few blocks from the target house, before dawn the next morning. They took the two beds, while Lucas read into the night and sheriff’s deputies watched the target.
The BMW, and, presumably, Beauchamps, returned to the house at eight, although they didn’t see him, and the Jaguar showed up at ten. The Navigator didn’t return until almost midnight. It was then that Lucas and MacIntosh laid eyes on Nast for the first time. He stood under the garage light, arms akimbo, shaking his head, and, a moment later, rolled the garbage can out to the curb. He went back inside and dropped the door.
Rocha had gone home to get some sleep but said she’d be up late, and MacIntosh called her: “We got him, Lu. Rae was right on. I got a close-up of his face in the garage light and it’s Nast. We got all three of them in the house. And maybe four, if that BMW was two guys in it like when Bob was trailing it . . .”
A half hour later, with no more movement at the target, Lucas pulled the cushions off the couches in the family room, threw them on the floor, and stretched out.
The raid was complicated, he thought as he slipped into sleep. Three different agencies were involved—LA city cops, LA County sheriff’s deputies, and the Marshals Service.
He, Bob, and Rae had tracked down the LA suspects, who were wanted by the City of Los Angeles and a couple of other jurisdictions, but not by any of the cities covered by the sheriff’s department or by the Marshals Service. The one suspect wanted by the marshals, Clayton Deese, wasn’t wanted by any of the local agencies and might or might not be in the house.
Whatever the outcome of the raid, the legal entanglements would be intense. Which was why there were about a billion lawyers out there, he supposed . . . It was almost like they deliberately tangled the laws to keep themselves in fees. But, nah. Too cynical. He smiled into the darkness and went to sleep.
* * *
—
LUCAS WAS sleeping soundly when one of the sheriff’s deputies shook him awake. “It’s quarter ’til six, if you want to brush your teeth. They’re saying they’re gonna hit the place about quarter after. It’s already getting light outside.”
Lucas rolled off the cushions, feeling stiff. Bob and Rae had gone an hour earlier to rodeo with the other agencies at the sheriff’s station. He brushed his teeth, looked at his phone to check the time, decided to shower and shave, and got down to the living room in time to hear Rocha say, on the radio, “Saddle up. You all know what you’re doing. Let’s do it.”
* * *
—
THE SWAT TEAM, including Bob and Rae, would be traveling in several different vehicles and would come at the house both from the front and from the back through the yard of the house behind the target. The team coming in from