Randall Meechum’s POV


    Today was the day. In twenty-seven states, FBI teams would conduct coordinated raids of over two hundred people tied to sex very in the Ind. We were going at 0500 Central time, so we had briefed at three and our teams were sent out. Almost every agent including the Special-Agent-In-Charge of our Field Office had been paired up for this.


    The women and documentation turned over to us had been a gold mine. There was plenty of evidence against them, and the dates had been validated with Customs and Border Patrol records of people leaving and returning to the United States. The FBI Director had taken a personal interest in this investigation, seeing it for the public rtions bonanza it was going to be. The highest priority targets were the ones we had evidence used girls under age sixteen; the next wave would be everyone else we could identify. The US Attorneys were throwing the book at them, and they would face hard time.


    I was driving my vehicle, one other agent with me. Dressed in ckbat gear, we were on our way to the Residences at Stoneleigh, an ultra-exclusive high-rise condominium tower in the city. Our target, software CEO Todd Martinn, bought the twenty-second floor a year earlier for a cool six million dors. We had studied his photo; he was in his early thirties, a good-looking guy who was often photographed around town with different hot women. With his looks and wealth, he could crashnd in the middle of the Sahara Desert and be neck-deep in pussy by sundown. Why would a guy like this would visit the Ind every other month?


    Because he liked to whip young girls while he fucked them, and he thought he could get away with it. He’d even used Tania a few times, until she became too ‘developed’ for his tastes.


    I was going to enjoy this. I was hoping he would be dumb enough to resist arrest, but I doubted it. Guys like this, who got their jollies off by using sex ves, would cry like little pussies when the handcuffs went on. I consoled myself by thinking about how even in prison, child rapists had a tough time.


    With that face and hair, I bet he’d be nightly entertainment for the cellblock.


    “You all right, Randall?”


    “I’m fine, Reba. Just thinking about this guy. What do you think he’ll do when we go in? Run, resist, m up or cry for his momma?”


    She looked at his picture again. “He’s an executive, a rich guy with connections who thinks he’s untouchable. A guy like this facing twenty years, he’ll m up and ask for hiswyer, thinking he’ll be out in time for lunch.”


    “Twenty bucks says he breaks down crying within a minute of the cuffs going on,” I said.


    “You’re on.” I turned onto the street and parked the ck Suburban in front of the grand entrance. A parking attendant in a gold-trimmed jacket opened the door for Reba, freezing when he saw herbat gear and FBI badge. I joined her a few secondster. “Don’t call anyone,” I said. “Do you have a supervisor on site?”


    “Yes sir, at the security station inside.”


    “Bring us to him.” He led us through the revolving doors and to a station at the front of the entryway. Looking at my watch, it was ten minutes to five. “FBI business. You are not to call or warn anyone or you’ll be subject to arrest, do you understand?” The supervisor nodded. “Is Mr. Todd Martinn in his rooms?”


    “Yes sir, he came in about one in the morning, escorting a young blonde.”


    “Is this typical behavior?”


    The doorman looked at his supervisor and nodded. “Most nights, never the same woman twice,” he said.


    “What time does hee down?”


    “On a Saturday, he doesn’t. He’ll order a breakfast delivery around nine, then send the girl down to catch a cab and he hits the gym.”


    Perfect. We’d pull him out of bed and his date could be the first to hear she’s double the age of the girls he really likes. “Do you have a key to his floor?”


    “Yes sir, but it’s only for emergencies.”


    I unholstered my Glock, pulling the slide back and ensuring it was loaded and ready. I pointed at the doorman. “You’ll follow me with the key. If he runs or refuses toe to the door, you can either open the door for me or I’ll kick it down, I really don’t care.” I turned to the supervisor. “When we exit on his floor, you lock the elevators down until your man here tells you I said it was OK to let them go.”


    “Yes sir.” The doorman took the key and led us to the elevator. “The floors have a fire escape?”


    “Yes, a stairway at the back,” he said.


    “Take us to a floor where Agent Smith here can get across to the stairs.” He pushed the button for ten. “When you are in ce, let me know,” I said.


    The doorman and I exited the elevator on his floor into the vestibule with a singlerge wooden door and a few chairs. “In position, Randall,” Reba said over the radio into my earpiece.N?velDrama.Org holds this content.


    I looked at my watch. Four minutes. It seemed like forever, but soon I was counting down. “Five seconds,” I said over the radio. Stepping to the door, I rang the doorbell and pounded hard on it. “OPEN UP! FBI!”


    I listened carefully for activity, I could hear a woman yelling and people moving around. “OPEN UP! FBI!”


    The radio in the doorman’s hand came on. “I’ve got a balcony door rm on his unit,” the supervisor said.


    “HE’S RUNNING,” I said into the radio. Raising my boot, I kicked hard at the door and busted it open. I was through the door, my gun out, as I heard Reba break through the back door. Seeing a sh of movement in the room ahead of me, I raced through to the dining room where therge French doors were still moving. Getting outside, I saw Todd to my right on the long narrow balcony, climbing over the rail. “FREEZE,” I shouted as I ran towards him.


    He looked at me, then looked down, trying to decide. “You’ll die if you run,” I said as I held the pistol at his head. He looked down once again, and I could see him deting as he realized he was caught. “Climb back over the rail.” He was already crying by the time he was on his knees with his hands on his head. Reba was inside with the woman, who was pleading ignorance about the cocaine in in sight. I cuffed him and pulled him to his feet, bringing him back through the door. “Todd Martinn, you are under arrest for multiple counts of entering a foreign country to engage in sex with underage girls and now possession of a felony quantity of cocaine,” I said. The coffee table in the living room had a pile of it along with a razor de.


    He looked shocked as I read him his rights, and the tears were flowing. I smirked at Reba as I finished reading him his rights. She had just handcuffed the woman, who calmly refused to answer questions without herwyer, and shook her head at me.


    I didn’t get to rough him up, but I won twenty bucks.


    We dropped them off for processing, then had two more raids before our day was over.


    The media was going wild, it was wall-to-wall perp walks since the US Attorney’s office had tipped off the press and we were bringing in celebrities and the uber-wealthy all morning long.


    Tania’s POV


    I-90E in Wisconsin


    I couldn’t stay still if my life depended on it. My hand was shaking as I sat in the back of the car with Bobby, leaning into him for all the support I could get. “It’s going to be all right,” he told me. “I’ll be with you, and your Pack loves you and misses you. They can’t wait to see you again.”