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“Good timing,” Dupont said. “We just got word that Delta Team will engage in three hours. We’re free until then.”
“Are they doing a solo take down?” Garcia asked.
“Affirmative. It turned out to be a substantial drug case. Regular DEA will swoop in after.”
“Thanks for the update and the coverage,” Garcia said, and then disconnected the call. He filled the others in the room in on the need to wrap up this portion of the trap in less than three hours. Then he sent a text to the ground team in Richmond to advise them all the meeting was on and to go on comms. “He’s having her come to the university. Be ready to move and get to the possible meeting location ahead of him.”
Laura Lee took her comms from her backpack. She was used to wearing them when they did the PGP Installs. This was something different, though.
“There’s a men’s soccer game at the stadium tonight,” Mike ‘Powder’ Rogers broadcast. “I’ll head to it.
“Where else is a possible?” Garcia asked.
“The Student Union and coffee shop are open late,” Laura Lee said.
“I’m on it,” Michael said.
“Stay out of sight,” Garcia warned. “Your creds were the last for us he processed. He’s bound to recognize you.”
“What else would be populated this late on a Friday?” Dupont broadcast.
“Just the library,” Laura Lee said.
“Crash, stay on the target. Let us know when he moves. Moe, stay on Liu,” Garcia ordered. Both men acknowledged him.
Garcia went into the bedroom and grabbed a heavy black fleece shirt from his backpack. He pulled it on. “I’ll hunker down in the backseat of the SUV that you drive to meet West, Laura. BT, you go with Taco but remain hidden unless we need to intervene. I don’t want West to see you, but I want us all on site.”
He stepped to the door and shot Laura Lee an expectant gaze. She rose from the couch and slipped on her jean jacket. The sweater she wore hung long enough to cover the pistol holstered at the small of her back. The jacket was for warmth. The sun had set, and the temperature had dropped into the fifties.
She was sure her breathing was loud as she drove to Mary Washington University, a place she had not set foot on in nearly a decade. Even when she’d been home visiting her family, she never went to her alma mater. “I’m less than a mile from the main entrance to the university,” she said to Garcia, who was crouched behind her seat.
He heard the fear in her voice. “Listen to me. You’ve got this. Andwe’vegotyou,” Garcia said. “Remember, we’re baiting a trap. You play this right, and we get it all on tape and it ends for him. No trial. The Keslar girl won’t have to testify and revisit what happened to her.”
“But no pressure, huh?” Laura Lee joked through her nervousness.
“Nope, none. We roll with what happens,” he said.
“I show you, BT, and Taco at the university,” Dupont’s voice came through comms. “Lah-lee, make the call. We’re all tuned in.”
“Thank you, Brad,” she said.
“From here out, callsigns only,” Garcia said.
“Thank you, Circles,” she repeated.
She knew he’d gotten that callsign because of his last name of Dupont. It was Dupont Circle in Washington D.C. that was the lame inspiration for it. Hers was just as lame. It came from a childhood nickname. She had mentioned to Angel and Jackson once when talking about little kids not being able to say their sibling’s names that, as a toddler, her sister Donna couldn’t say her name and always called her Lah-lee. Jackson thought it was cute, and he suggested it as her callsign. It stuck. She hadn’t been that eager to have that name attached to this team, as it held fond memories for her from her childhood.
She hit re-dial on the phone as she drove through the main entrance and pulled into the first parking lot she came to. “I’m on the grounds,” she said when West answered.
“Good girl,” he said in a condescending tone. “I’ll meet you at the library, lower level. I have study cubicle number three reserved.”
“I said public,” she growled.
“It’s surrounded by glass windows looking into the library. You don’t really want to talk about our business within earshot of anyone else, do you?”
“As far as I’m concerned, we have no business to discuss.”
“I’ll see you in a few minutes.” West disconnected the call again.
