CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
To the timeline, Bruner and Darma’s teams had taken positions in proximity to their target addresses. In the thirty minutes since, Franklin had periodically rasped a hand over his stubble, anxious to get going. But neither of the Gordon crews could move until Waldo’s lot reached Miners Rest.
Eventually, yet right on schedule, Waldo called in. ‘Whisky, in place.’
Bruner acknowledged, then checked with the other two team leaders, ‘Everyone set to go?’
Darma came through clearly on the radio. ‘Delta, ready.’
‘Whisky, ready,’ Waldo shot back.
Franklin’s body crackled with tension.
‘Backup crews set?’
The various cars gave their callsigns and an affirmative.
‘We ready?’
Bruner lowered a direct look at each of his members on the benches.
He lingered on Franklin, wh
