Page 66 of Inez

"Excellent." I think for a few minutes. "Sol, Scarlett, Lash—do some recon in the Port while we wait for further intel. Sol, did your contact give you an idea where the container is located?"

Sol shakes his head. "No, but I can find out."

"Do it, and check it out. But be careful—we know all too well that these guys aren't playing games."

"On it." Sol paces away, phone already to his ear. He returns a couple minutes later. "I've got a location for the container. The most recent satellite imagery shows multiple contacts in the area, heavily armed, forming a perimeter around the area. We'll have to proceed with extreme caution, but I think we can put eyes on it and, see who's who and what's what."

"It is of the utmost importance that you're not spotted," I say. “We don't want to tip our hand that we're here or that we know what's happening."

Solomon grins. "They didn't call me Wind Walker for nothing, you know."

Fonz happensto have a deck of cards with him, for reasons unknown, and a game of poker—played for bullets—ensues. Those not playing sit and talk, nap in the back of the vehicles, or merely lounge idly while we wait for the scouting party to return.

Three hours pass before Sol, Scarlett, and Lash return.

Sol gives the report. "We counted a dozen tangos armed with long guns. They've set up trip-wire alarms and motion sensors at every ingress point, as well. Whatever they're hiding in there, be it guns or Rafael himself, they're damned serious about keeping people out. They never opened the container, so we've got no clue what’s inside. My feeling, however, is that it's not just a load of guns in that container. You wouldn't post twenty-four-hourarmed guards with laser trip wires and motion sensors for that. They know damn well that at least the ATF knows the container is there, so if they were worried about it being taken back, they'd move it. The container beingthere, specifically, is important, for some reason."

"Ambush for us?" Chance asks.

Sol shrugs. "Maybe. But as far as we know, they don't know we're here. And for this crew, a dozen shitheads with M16s is barely an ambush, and doesn't pose much of a threat to us. Five of you successfully defended the Club against forty. They know we outclass them so their only hope of succeeding against us is sheer numerical superiority. A dozen tangos ain't that."

"It is my feeling that Rafael is hiding in that container," Lash says. "Pugli would have to come to him, which fits with Rafael's sense of superiority. It also fits with his paranoia."

"I agree," Scarlett says. "The container is positioned in the middle of a stack, with containers on all sides. It would be a fairly simple matter to create a connection between the surrounding containers. With the right ventilation and some creativity, you could make a small living space for one person. Or, if not a living space, somewhere Rafael can hide in relative comfort with zero possibility of being spotted by anyone."

"That is something Rafa would do," I say. "So now we need to nail down the time of the meet, and whether it's in that container."

"Too bad we can't get thermal on that container," Sol muses. He glances at Fonz. "You don't happen to have a line on a helo with thermal capabilities, do you?"

Fonz tilts his head to the side and eyes the sky. "Maybe? Putting an LAPD chopper in the sky is a bit of a bigger ask than getting some lowlife thugs to spill the beans on a rival's activity."

"Chopper," Kane says, snorting. "A chopper is a motorcycle, buddy."

"A chopper is a motorcycle, buddy," Fonz mocks in a mocking, wheedling, whining tone. "Fuck you, meathead. You know what the fuck I meant."

"Fuck me?" Kane growls. "Fuckyou. I'll turn you into a pretzel, needle-dick. A really fuckin' greasy one."

"Gentlemen," I snap. "Your penises are both massive, I'm sure. We don't need to measure them at this time, however, so please, attempt to rein in your egos."

Scarlett snorts in an attempt to suppress her laughter, but her snort sets Annika to cackling, and then in short order, everyone is howling…except Fonz and Kane.

"You’ve got jokes, Inez," Saxon says, grinning devilishly. "You must'a gotten some." I stare him down until he looks away, squirming. “You’re not ready totakejokes yet, I see. Got it."

Lash raises a hand. "During our joint operation with Alpha One Security, I acquired a rather exceptional military-grade sniper rifle with thermal imaging capabilities. It was a gift from their sniper, Anslem See. I've not had a chance to use it, yet, and this is a perfect opportunity. I can monitor the container from a safe distance, and hopefully confirm whether or not there is a heat signature in the container. The rest of you can position yourselves to assault the container when I spot movement, and then I can provide sniper support."

"I like it," Sol says, nodding. "Inez?"

"It's as good a plan as any. An LAPD helicopter circling the area isn't exactly the height of stealth, anyway, even if Fonz could arrange it."

Fonz lifts his phone. "Messaged my buddy who's a pilot for the department and he says no-can-do. Off-book flight operations are a strict no-go. And yeah, it'd certainly let our friends know someone is watching them, which we don't want."

"That's the plan, then," I say. "Lash, get your new toy and find a spot. Girls, we're gonna need to find you somewhere lessvisible to wait it out. And we'll need someone to stay and guard them."

Fonz lifts his hand. "Got it, Boss-lady. I ain't gonna be able to keep up with you guys with this hole in my ass cheek." He jerks his head at the warehouse outside of which we've posted up. "There's bound to be a nice defensible position in there, somewhere. I'll take a gander."

"Excellent," I say. "Let’s go over our equipment and prepare for action while Lash and Fonz get into position. This could very well be a case of hurry up and wait, however."

Rev, silent up till now, chuckles. "We're all ex-military, Boss-lady. We're used to hurry up and wait."