TEN MINUTES LATER, everyone had calmed down and they stood in the back corner of the gym around Marz’s makeshift computer desks, fashioned out of two eight-foot-long folding tables positioned to form an L. Becca scanned her gaze over his setup.
He had three laptops hooked to a series of cables and boxes she couldn’t identify, plus the smallest printer she’d ever seen. Charlie’s hidden note and the gang booklet lay open near one computer, and pages of notes and printouts lay this way and that. An empty pizza box sat on the floor behind the desk, and a row of diet Coke cans added a splash of color to the array of electronics. It looked like the desk of someone who had worked in this space for years.
He took a seat in the center like a king holding court and dropped the puppy—whose name was definitely not Eileen—to the concrete floor. “Beckett and Shane filled me in on today’s field research, and I’ve scanned most of this book on the Church organization and done some additional research of my own. We are talking some bad-ass shit here.” He looked around the group. “Don’t let the word ‘gang’ make you discount their level of organization, their strength, or their discipline. In the past two years they have destroyed, disbanded, or absorbed three other gangs, expanding their territory substantially. They run eighty percent of the heroin trade in the city, do a fair amount of arms dealing, and appear to have a lot of officials in their pockets. The Church has a sophisticated recruitment system in place and a constant inflow of members. This is organized crime with a capital O and a capital C.”
“Man, I didn’t know shit could be stacked this high,” Shane said.
“Got any good news for us?” Nick asked from next to her. At least she wasn’t the only one who seemed to think the situation seemed more and more impossible. Her stomach flip-flopped when she imagined what their odds were against an organization like that.
“For operational purposes, maybe,” he said, waking up the laptop with the largest monitor. Some of this equipment they’d bought today, but some he’d brought with him. “We’re working on the assumption that the tattoo Becca saw on her assailant belongs to a Churchman. Yes?”
Becca nodded, so frustrated with herself that she couldn’t be definitive when so much hinged on that damn tattoo. “I’m pretty sure, but in fairness I can’t say with total certainty.”
“Mind if I see that?” Jeremy asked, pointing toward the gang booklet. Marz passed it over.
“The fact that the hotel maid associated Charlie’s abductors with being heroin dealers adds another piece of circumstantial evidence,” Nick said.
Marz nodded. “Agreed. Well, then, I propose this lead is worth investigating further until we have something more to go on. It’s gonna take me a while to see if I can work this bank info. Everyone good with that?”
Easy held out his big hands. “You know where I stand. If there’s a chance this is who has Charlie, it makes sense to learn everything we can as soon as we can.”
“I’d rather be doing something than sitting around Fort Living Room,” Shane said. “Besides, we need to figure out the link between this gang and Merritt, assuming there is one.”
Beckett nodded, crossed his big arms, and leveled a thoughtful gaze at Marz. “We’re on board. What is it you have in mind?”
Anticipation sent a shiver down her spine. She glanced to Nick, so appreciating his reassuring smile. She couldn’t begin to express how grateful she was that he was with her in this.
Derek was suddenly a flurry of activity. His fingers flew over the keyboard in front of him for a moment before he shoved a pile of papers aside to clear space on the desk. He slapped down four pieces of paper. “Church has four known front businesses.” He tapped his pointer finger against each sheet as he spoke. “A barbershop, a shipping business and storage facility, a storefront church, of course, and a strip club.”
“How original,” Easy said, leaning in with the other guys around the table’s edge to see what the pages said.
Becca glanced to Jeremy, who’d hung back beside her to study the book like he was trying to catch up to speed. He gave her a small, crooked smile that told her to hang in. It was pretty clear he and Nick were cut from the same good-guy cloth.
Marz pointed to the laptop monitor and shifted sequentially through live images of buildings, headlights flashing across the screen as cars passed by. “I found traffic cameras that give us a visual on three of the four. The barbershop is in the corner of a strip mall, and I haven’t been able to find an eye in the sky on that. Yet.”