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In church, they’d gone over this plan to deal with Sheriff Harridan’s nuisance crew. Zach had argued hard to handle it without killing the guys, insisting that if they killed everybody who got in their way, they couldn’t continue to claim that they were essentially decent guys who simply didn’t recognize conventional authority. He’d also argued that the Bulls had no beef with this crew, was not owed their blood, and that Harridan hadn’t asked them outright to kill them, only to ‘get them out of the way.’
Ben wanted to erase the crew from existence. He’d argued just as passionately, in his lowkey way, that destroying the crew’s livelihood but leaving them alive would only create enemies with a score to settle.
They were both right. Ultimately, the vote had gone to Zach, four to three. Cooper had voted with Zach; he didn’t at all mind making mischief, but he agreed that founding the charter knee-deep in blood was an inauspicious beginning. When they killed, it was because a death had been earned, or because they had no other choice. Losing that truth would warp them before they had their legs steady beneath them.
Also, he’d wanted to side with Zach to shore up their bond and keep Ben from a win. He fully recognized the pettiness of that, and he understood that the charter president shouldn’t be making decisions from pettiness, but since there were also valid reasons to vote with Zach, he wasn’t going to think too hard about the other shit.
Ben was pissed, but his loyalty to the club had been complete from the moment he’d taken the patch—even before then. He thought the plan was stupid, but it was the plan that won the vote, so he’d do his part.
Now all seven Nevada Bulls were packed into the club van at one o’clock in the morning, parked across the road from a warehouse in a low-rent industrial complex on the Vegas outskirts. Since they’d met with Harridan, Kai had been working to fill out the sheriff’s information and find all the corners and snags they needed to know to do this fucking hit job. They’d also cased the area twice.
“Let’s go over the plan again,” Cooper said.
Zach answered, “Reed stays with the van. Lonnie’s on lookout. The rest of us go in. Door has a deadbolt, heavy duty but standard manufacture. Geno’ll pick it. No alarm that we know of, but there’s a security camera on the corner of the building, recording internally but not transmitting. We go in dark.”
Ben picked up from there. “Eight minutes inside, tops. Any loot we find we try to bring out. If there’s a safe, and there’s time, Kai’ll try to get in. Cash and anything of value in the safe goes to Harridan. Anything else is ours if we want it.”
“We don’t know if there’s a safe or, if there is, anything about it,” Kai said. “If I can’t break it, we start the fire there and try to destroy it with everything else.”
“You sure that shit you’ve got will work?” Cooper asked. He had trouble believing that fire could destroy a fireproof safe.
Kai grinned and patted the small black duffel on his lap. “Yeah, this shit is insidious. If there’s the tiniest gap at the welds, anything to let liquid through at all, it’ll be like shoving dynamite right in. Once I cut the sprinklers, the whole building will go up quick.”
“And we’re sure we’re not gonna start some massive disaster, setting a fire in a desert?” Zach asked.
“That’s the beauty of the desert, Z,” Reed said. “No water, but no trees, either. Nothing in the desert to burn. All the other warehouses in that complex have sprinklers. We’ll make a mess, not a disaster.”
“And ruin these assholes’ operation,” Cooper said.
“Not to mention make nine mortal enemies,” Ben muttered.
“They won’t know it was us, Pop,” Reed replied. “They don’t know us, and if not for the sheriff, we wouldn’t know them. We don’t play the same game. They’ll think it was some other Vegas crew.”
Ben looked at his son but said nothing. Reed had voted against his old man. With vague curiosity, Cooper wondered how they’d work that out.
Leaving them to it, Cooper ignored Ben’s complaint and focused on Reed and Lonnie. “Keep sharp, you two. First hint we got company, you call it. Don’t be wishy-washy about it. I do not want a replay of Idaho. We voted not to kill these guys, so let’s get it done so we don’t have to.”
“Got it, boss,” Lonnie said.
“Yep,” said Reed.
Cooper checked his watch. “Alright. Let’s head over there.”
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~oOo~
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Reed drove around theedge of the warehouse complex, came up from the back, and parked along the side of the building that was their target. Here, the van was out of range of the camera but close enough for a quick getaway. Everybody but Reed piled out. Lonnie headed off on his own, to take up the lookout position they’d identified as the best possible, out of range of any cameras but with good sightlines to the exits. The other five hurried to the shadows and made their way to the warehouse door.
Geno had the lock open in a matter of seconds, and they slipped into the dark warehouse. There were caged windows on the side of the building, so they didn’t flip the lights on. Instead, they used flashlights.
As they’d expected, the warehouse was the crew’s hideout. For the most part, it was set up like a place where a bunch of dudes could hang out: ratty sofas, threadbare carpets on the concrete floor, a big TV on a stand. A couple old arcade games. Makeshift kitchen. The strong smell of weed, cigarettes, cheap beer, and BO.
An incongruously fancy pool table, with turned legs and fringed pockets, had pride of place, but its blue felt was covered with papers. Cooper walked over to it.
The papers were blueprints and schematics. He leaned over and focused his light, trying to really see what he was looking at.
