“His name is Mike Rogers, and he works for Shepherd Security.”
Eyebrows all around the room rose.
“I know, crazy coincidence, but at least he spells it differently.”
“The name sounds familiar,” Nathan said. “They’re headquartered in Chicago, right?”
“Only their operators know the exact location of the bunker,” Gibson answered.
We let them digest what that information implied.
Gibson hadn’t told me much, but I knew Shepherd Security was a global private security and “other” operation. I didn’t ask what “other” entailed, and he didn’t tell, but he reassured me they were legit. Shepherd Security only recruited active duty, special forces operators to their team.
Their missions could be so dangerous that every operative at Shepherd Security had a tracking chip under their skin.
“Rogers has Interpol contacts, so I’ve sent him the pictures of our targets. He’ll help us find information about the corrupt CIA officers and their hired help. He offered to ask Colonel Shepherd, the owner, to have a team on standby if we need help.”
“What kind of help might that be?” Jamie asked.
You could’ve heard a pin drop in the room as they waited for the answer.
They didn’t want to know, but they needed to.
“Extraction. They have their own jet and helo, and enough firepower to take over a well-armed small country,” I said.
“Shepherd Security is the trump card up our sleeve if shit goes south,” Gibson added.
“Why don’t we have a jet?” Jay’s question broke the tension in the room.
“Who’s gonna fly it?” Jack shot back.
“I could learn,” Jay said with a shrug.
“We don’t need a jet,” John shut down the conversation. Turning back to Gibson, he asked, “Any chance we’ll get to meet Rogers or Shepherd,” John shook his head with a chuckle, “before we need them?”
Ryan’s answer was short and sweet, but not what they wanted to hear.
“No.”
“I don’t suppose we can change their minds?” John asked.
“I can ask, but I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Ryan answered.
I didn’t have high hopes of the Sheppard clan conceding control to the Shepherd clan if shit went south.Not if, when, because if there’s one thing my military and law enforcement jobs taught me, things always went south.
With that settled, I asked, “Jack, did you find anything yesterday?”
“The problem is that I found too much, but nothing I’d stake my life on.”
“Start with the best candidates,” I ordered.
“Give me a second.” Jack tapped away at his laptop, and the big screen behind John lit up with a spreadsheet and a marked map.
Doug whistled. “That’s a lot of data.”
“Yeah, it is. And this is just Dallas.”
Fuck. There was no way in hell we’d have time to visit all the locations.
