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“I cracked it. I’ve got all the information we need.”
Chapter 25
Ryder sat in the briefing room and watched six children’s lives get reduced to logistics.
Fallon had the screens up. Everything Cassandra had pulled from the Diehls’ system was laid out across three monitors. Names, routes, financial records, transfer logs, and more.
But most importantly: six kids arriving Friday at a warehouse the suppliers, aka kidnappers, used as a staging area. That would be the handoff between the suppliers and the Diehls. The Diehls had already texted and told him to be ready.
He would be, just not on the side they were expecting.
Fallon ran the meeting. She was already working logistics while the rest of the room was still absorbing what was on the screens. She walked them through the supplier network, the routes, the handoff schedule, and the conclusion she’d already reached.
“The suppliers and the Diehls never overlap, except during a handoff. If we move on either group independently, the other scatters and the kids disappear into a different pipeline.” She looked around the table. “Friday brings everyone to the warehouse. Suppliers, the Diehls, and six kids. That’s our window.”
The room went quiet. One shot at all of them, coordinated to the minute. One bad call and the whole thing fell apart and six children disappeared into a system designed to make sure they were never found.
Nobody said what they were all thinking, which was that operations with this many moving pieces went wrong more often than they went right. He’d seen it happen, more than once, from both the good guys’ and the bad guys’ side.
Fallon pulled up a second screen. Warehouse blueprints, satellite imagery, the surrounding streets. “The hard part is what happens inside. The transaction will be on the main floor. The kids will most likely be held in one of the side rooms. We have to take the main floor and reach those kids at the same time. If anyone in that building hears us coming before we’re in position, those kids become leverage.”
He looked at the blueprints. Single-story commercial structure, except for a small office built as a loft. Loading bays on the south side, one main entrance on the east, a service door on the northwest corner. Decent sight lines from the parking area but limited cover on approach.
“How current is this?”
“Satellite is two weeks old. The blueprints are from the county assessor’s office.”
He studied the layout. Two weeks was a long time in an operation like this. The basic structure wouldn’t change, but the interior could be reconfigured, doors could be blocked, and anything that looked like a clean entry point on paper could be a problem in practice.
“Loading bays are the weak point,” Ryder said. “They’re designed for trucks, which means they’re wide and loud. You breach there, everyone inside knows it before your team is through the door.”
“The service entrance on the northwest side is better.” Isaac used an electronic pointer to show what he was talking about. “Smaller, quieter, and if the interior layout is even close to what’s on the screen, it puts you in a corridor that runs along the back wall. You can move through the building without being seen from the main floor until you’re in position.”
Fallon nodded. “What about the kids? Where would they hold them during a handoff?”
“Away from where the deal happens. You don’t keep the product on the main floor during a handoff. You hold them somewhere controlled: back rooms, offices, anything with a door that locks. That’s where I’d put the product.”
He heard himself say it. Product. Christ. The operational language turned them into inventory. They were fucking kids.
Fallon marked the rooms on the screen. “Then that’s where I’ll be.”
Isaac looked at her. “You’re going on the raid?”
“I’m leading the rescue side personally.” Her voice left no room for discussion. “These kids have been held, transported, and handed off by strangers, probably men. The first face they see when that door opens is not going to be another man with a gun. It’s going to be mine.”
Nobody argued with that.
They spent the next hour on positioning. He walked them through what he knew about the Diehls’ operation. Arlo handled the business side: logistics, supplier relationships, the money.
Heath ran security. They operated differently. Arlo was methodical, stuck to process because process worked. Heath was the opposite. He moved his people around, varied protocols without warning, changed things up because predictability was a vulnerability. Heath treated every vulnerability like a personal insult.
“Once the handoff starts, both of them are locked in. Arlo’s running the transaction, Heath’s running the room. His people will be on a hair trigger. If anything feels off—any fucking thing—Heath won’t wait to figure out what it is. He’ll start shooting.”
“Can we get Heath away from the main floor before the breach?” Nolan asked.
“Maybe, but I doubt it. He trusts Arlo’s judgment, so if Arlo needed him somewhere, he’d move. But we can’t control Arlo, and Heath’s default is to stay close to the operation. You have to plan for him being in the room when it goes.”
“So everything comes down to speed,” Fallon said.
