At six the next morning, the vibration of Jack Stacy’s phone pulled him out of a deep sleep in Ivanka Anderson’s bed.
Ivanka stirred beside him without opening her eyes, still exhausted from how late they had stayed awake the night before.
“Work?” she murmured.
Jack glanced at the screen and saw Hank Voight.
“Looks like it.”
He answered the call.
“Stacy.”
“Vacation’s over, Jack.” Hank sounded like he hadn’t slept all night.
“Briefing room before eight.
Something happened in Chinatown and I need everybody.”
The call ended before Jack could ask for details.
He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed the last traces of sleep from his face.
It had been three days since Warehouse 12 and the rescue of Justin Voight.
Internal Affairs had been taking a hard look at Jack’s shooting of Joe Catalano, which wasn’t surprising after Megan Gladysal had made it clear she intended to scrutinize every move connected to Hank.
Jack wasn’t particularly worried.
Hank was handling the administrative side, and the unexpected time away from field duty had given Jack plenty of opportunity to practice Life Radar Lv.1.
“Chinatown?” Ivanka sat up and pulled the sheet around herself.
“Is this about those gambling-club robberies?”
Jack turned toward her.
“You heard about them?”
Ivanka gave him a sleepy look.
“Jack, it’s been all over the local news.
Three armed robberies in less than a week and the media is already reporting around fifteen dead.”
“Hank didn’t say much, but that sounds like it.” Jack got out of bed and started dressing.
“Go back to sleep.”
“That’s not happening now.” Ivanka got up and helped straighten his shirt.
“At least eat something before you leave, and be careful.”
Jack leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“I’m always careful.”
Ivanka gave him a look that clearly said she didn’t believe that for a second.
At 7:50 a.m., Jack walked into the Intelligence Unit at the 21st District.
The briefing room was already nearly full, with Hank standing in front of the whiteboard while Al Olinsky, Antonio Dawson, Jay Halstead, Erin Lindsay, Adam Ruzek and Sheldon Jin waited nearby.
Catherine Hayek was there too.
Jack slowed slightly when he saw her.
He had called Catherine three times during the last few days and every call had gone straight to voicemail, leaving him wondering whether Hank had sent her somewhere he wasn’t supposed to know about.
Catherine met his eyes and gave him a small nod.
She looked tired, with dark circles beneath her eyes, but the familiar sharpness in her gaze hadn’t changed.
“Jack, grab a seat,” Hank said.
“Everybody’s here, so let’s get started.”
Jack sat down and studied the photographs covering the whiteboard.
Three illegal gambling clubs had been torn apart by gunfire, with bullet holes across the walls and covered bodies visible in the crime-scene images.
The work looked disciplined.
Almost nothing useful had been left behind.
“Three underground gambling clubs in Chinatown have been hit in the last five days,” Hank began.
“The current confirmed death toll is seventeen.
Five in the first robbery, six in the second and six in the third.”
That explained the difference from the number Ivanka had heard on the news.
The public information was already behind the internal count.
Hank tapped one of the photographs.
“We’re looking at a five-person crew using automatic weapons, high-end tactical armor and military-style communications.”
Ruzek let out a low whistle.
“Seventeen bodies from three robberies?
That’s not exactly your normal smash-and-grab.”
“No kidding.” Hank ignored Adam’s tone and continued.
“Gang Unit had it first, but the body count and the way these guys are escalating convinced Commander Perry to hand it over to Intelligence.”
Hank turned toward Catherine.
“We also have somebody on the inside.”
Everyone looked at her.
Catherine stood and moved toward the board.
“I’ve spent the last five days undercover in Chinatown posing as temporary staff at one of the gambling clubs.
That’s also why I was completely off the grid.”
Jack finally understood why she had disappeared.
“These guys aren’t ordinary stickup crews,” Catherine continued.
“Every robbery follows the same timing.
About one minute to enter, one minute to secure the room, three minutes to empty the cash and one minute to withdraw.”
“Exactly six minutes,” Jay said.
Catherine nodded.
“Every time.”
Jay studied the photographs again.
His Army Ranger background made him one of the people in the room most familiar with coordinated assaults.
“That kind of timing takes training.”
“Military, SWAT or somebody who studied both,” Catherine replied.
“There’s something else.
They know exactly how each casino is protected before they go in.”
She pointed to the first location.
“At this one, they cut the backup power and disabled the alarm before entering.
At the second, they avoided cameras the owner had installed only days earlier.”
Catherine moved to the third photograph.
“This club replaced the reinforced lock on its rear entrance the day before the robbery.
The crew already knew about it and came prepared to defeat it.”
Jack frowned.
“Either somebody is feeding them inside information or they’re scouting every location first.”
“That was my thought too.” Catherine looked toward him.
“I started paying attention to anything unusual around the clubs before each robbery.”
She pulled out several photographs.
“A day or two before every attack, crews posing as city utility workers showed up nearby.
Electrical work, water lines, street maintenance.
Different excuses each time.”
“I followed one crew after they left,” Catherine continued.
“The plates were fake and the uniforms didn’t check out.
They weren’t city employees.”
Hank stepped forward again.
“So whoever we’re dealing with is doing professional pre-operation surveillance while hiding behind legitimate-looking city work.”
Antonio crossed his arms.
“Question is who they are and why they’re hitting gambling rooms instead of banks or armored trucks.”
Al Olinsky leaned back in his chair.
“Cash.
Lots of it and very little paperwork.”
He gestured toward the photographs.
“People running illegal gambling rooms aren’t exactly eager to tell the cops everything they know.
A lot of customers don’t want their names in police reports either.”
“That gives the crew a quieter target,” Erin said.
Jay shook his head.
“Not after seventeen murders.
You leave that many bodies and the whole city starts looking for you.”
Jack kept staring at the numbers on the board.
Something didn’t fit.
“Unless the bodies are part of the point.”
The room went quiet.
Hank looked toward him.
“Explain.”
“If all they wanted was cash, they could control the room, take the money and leave.” Jack pointed toward the casualty figures.
“Instead they keep killing people even when it makes the investigation bigger.”
He looked at the three numbers again.
“Five dead in the first robbery.
Six in the second.
Six in the third.”
Jack’s expression hardened.
“And two of the victims in the last attack were children.”
Nobody spoke for a moment.
“That doesn’t look like violence getting out of control,” Jack continued.
“It looks deliberate.”
Erin frowned.
“You think robbery is secondary?”
“I think the money might just be a bonus.” Jack looked around the room.
“The real objective could be terror.”
Hank’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Terror aimed at who?”
“The people running the illegal gambling business.” Jack pointed toward the Chinatown map.
“What happens when independent operators watch three clubs get wiped out in five days?”
“They get scared,” Ruzek answered.
“They close,” Antonio added.
“Or they look for protection,” Jack said.
“Maybe somebody wants control of the underground gambling market.
Hit independent clubs, make examples out of them and let everybody else decide whether they want to join whoever is behind this.”
Al slowly nodded.
“Take over without having to fight every owner one at a time.”
“Exactly.”
Hank stared at the board for several seconds before nodding.
“It fits.”
He turned toward the team.
“Then we work both sides.
Find the five shooters and find whoever is paying them.”
Hank started handing out assignments.
“Jack and Catherine, you’re staying in Chinatown.
Continue surveillance and figure out which club is next.”
“Jay, Erin and Antonio, trace the weapons and tactical gear.
A crew running automatic weapons and military-style comms had to get that equipment somewhere.”
Hank looked toward Al and Ruzek.
“You two start checking former military, special-operations personnel and ex-cops who could fit this level of training.”
Finally he turned to Sheldon.
“I want every piece of surveillance we have compared against communications activity around all three scenes.”
Sheldon nodded.
“On it.”
“Move.”
By 10:00 a.m., Jack and Catherine were sitting inside an unmarked Chevrolet Malibu near West 23rd Street in Chinatown.
From their position they could watch the entrances to two illegal gambling rooms without drawing much attention.
It was the first time they had been alone together in several days.
“Sorry about your calls,” Catherine said while keeping her eyes on the noodle shop across the street.
“Hank put me under radio silence the moment I went undercover.”
“I figured it was something like that.” Jack casually scanned the street while Life Radar Lv.1 gave him a second layer of awareness beyond what he could see.
“How bad was the assignment?”
Catherine was quiet for a moment.
“Worse than it looks.”
Jack glanced toward her.
“The owner of the place I’m working in is a guy everybody calls Mr.
Chen.
He’s convinced somebody inside his operation is feeding information to the robbers.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“He thought one of the dealers was talking.” Catherine’s jaw tightened.
“He punished her in front of the entire staff and cut off part of her ear with a cleaver.”
Jack’s expression hardened.
“I had to stand there and act scared enough to look believable without looking like I wanted to run to the police.” Catherine exhaled slowly.
“Undercover work gets complicated when the person you’re pretending to be has to react differently than you would.”
Jack could hear the strain beneath her calm voice.
Catherine was good at hiding pressure, but living as somebody else for days at a time could wear down even experienced officers.
She clearly didn’t want to stay on the subject.
“Did you see Justin?” Catherine asked.
Jack accepted the change.
“At the hospital.
He’s physically fine, just shaken up.”
“And Hank?”
“Internal Affairs is still watching him.” Jack looked toward the casino entrance.
“Antonio seems suspicious of almost everything Hank does now.”
Catherine nodded.
“Antonio talked to me this morning.”
Jack turned slightly.
“About Hank?”
“He asked whether I’d noticed any misconduct.” Catherine’s expression was unreadable.
“I told him I was focused on catching criminals.”
“How’d he take that?”
“Not well.”
Jack almost smiled.
Catherine finally looked directly at him.
“I also heard what happened at Warehouse 12.”
Jack knew where the conversation was going.
“You went in alone and killed Joe Catalano while saving Justin.”
“He was about to shoot him.”
“I know.” Catherine held his gaze.
“I’m not criticizing you.
If I’d been standing where you were, I would’ve fired too.”
She paused for a moment.
“You’ve just changed lately.”
Jack raised an eyebrow.
“Changed how?”
“Calmer.” Catherine studied him.
“Maybe harder to read.”
Her mouth curved slightly.
“Your psychologist must be taking very good care of you.”
Jack laughed.
“Stress changes people.”
“That what we’re calling it?”
Jack gave her an innocent look before turning back toward the street.
“We’re still partners, right?”
Catherine watched him for a few seconds.
“Yeah.” Her voice softened.
“We’re still partners.”
She faced forward again.
“And if something is bothering you, you can talk to me.
You know that.”
“I know.”
Jack smiled faintly.
“Same goes for you.”
The side door of one of the gambling clubs suddenly opened.
Jack’s attention shifted immediately.
An Asian man in a dark suit stepped outside and glanced nervously over his shoulder.
He moved quickly toward a black Mercedes parked nearby while repeatedly checking the entrance behind him.
“Nine o’clock,” Jack said.
“Something’s wrong.”
Catherine already had the binoculars raised.
“I know him.
That’s Lee, one of the managers from the casino where I’ve been working.”
Two Asian men wearing leather jackets appeared from the opposite direction and intercepted Lee before he reached the Mercedes.
One shoved him back against the wall while the other positioned himself between Lee and the street.
Catherine adjusted the binoculars.
“Both armed.
Concealed handguns at the waist.”
Jack started the Malibu and eased closer before stopping about half a block away.
From there they could still observe without announcing themselves.
One of the men pulled his handgun just far enough to press the barrel into Lee’s ribs.
Lee immediately raised his hands and began speaking rapidly, his face turning pale.
“They’re threatening him,” Catherine said.
“You recording?”
“Already on.”
Jack raised the camera and focused on the armed man closest to Lee.
The suspect turned his head for only a moment, but it was enough.
Jack captured a clear image of his face.
He looked to be in his forties with black hair, a sharp chin and cold eyes that never seemed to leave Lee.
Jack lowered the camera slightly.
Now they had a face.
[Community Goals Ongoing]