Page 11 of Wrecked
On a growl, Hawk called Cooper.
“Yeah,” Cooper answered.
“We ran into a little road rage prob,” Hawk said.
“You okay?”
“We’re fine,” Hawk replied. “We had to pull off Route 50. Addison’s checking for an alternate route. Be there shortly.” He hung up.
Addison turned on her nav app. “Since the compound isn’t on any map, I put in the gas station that’s near it.”
Hawk pulled onto the road and drove to the compound by back roads. Once behind the gates, he parked at the mission building beside Cooper’s truck. The one-story building was dark.
“We’ve been drinking within the twelve-hour window of a mission,” Hawk said. “How do you wanna play this?”
While that shot of Wild Turkey wouldn’t have fazed him, she coulda been buzzing from it.
“I can do it,” she replied. “What did you have?”
“Just the one beer.”
They exited the sports car. “So, you’re good?” he asked.
“I’m good,” she replied as they sailed inside.
Cooper was seated at the head of the conference room table, his attention glued to the six monitors affixed to the wall. Surveillance cameras had captured images of Ocean City, the buildings, the outdoor music venue, and the beach. The eeriness of the jet-black ocean was a formidable sight.
Hawk and Addison sat beside each other, facing the wall of monitors.
“Alright, let’s get started,” Cooper said. “The shooter books two different rooms in the same hotel. One on the top floor, where he does the shooting, and the second on the first floor. If there’s no balcony, he cuts out a portion of the window. After the shooting, he switches out his disguise, heads downstairs to his first-floor hotel room. He stays there until everyone’s evacuated. Once outside, he escapes unnoticed.”
Cooper tapped the keyboard. Photos of six men appeared on the screens. “His MO is simple, yet it’s worked every time.” The first photo was of a clean-shaven man wearing a straw hat. His long, light brown hair flowed down his shoulders. He wore a flowered shirt and a big smile.
“He blends into the crowd,” Hawk added.
“He wants to be invisible,” Cooper said.
The second photo was a businessman wearing a suit. His blond hair was short and neat. He wore black-framed glasses, his eyes a bright green. No facial hair.
“Nice disguise,” Addison said. “I wouldn’t have pegged him for the same man.”
Cooper pointed a red-light laser at two different pictures. “He used these two disguises at the Austin music fest.” Cooper redirected the laser to two different photos. “He looked like this at the Portland concert.”
“He’s a master of disguise,” Addison murmured. “Does he always change up his looks?”
“No,” Cooper replied. “He’s used the long brown wig at an Albuquerque festival and again at a Miami one.”
“How the hell are we gonna find him if we don’t have a damn visual?” Hawk checked the time. It was nine thirty.
“What does he look like without the disguises?” Addison asked.
“We don’t know,” Cooper replied. “That’s why this has been such a challenge.”
“If we locate him, shouldn’t the FBI arrest him?” Hawk asked.
“It’s an ALPHA kill-on-contact job,” Cooper explained. “According to hotel records, he hasn’t checked in, but my CI tells me he’s there, so we gotta find him before he opens fire.”
“No pressure there,” Addison muttered as she and Hawk exchanged glances.
