We stood in front of the Camaro surrounded by a small gaggle of uniformed police officers and black clad TAC members. Behind the Camaro were five patrol cars and a big cargo van the TAC Squad used when they came out of their chain-linked fenced yard and played in the public. This was going to be more like a military operation than simple police work. Everyone was wearing bulletproof vests. Everyone had the look of determination etched across their faces. Everyone knew the score.
The guy we were hunting for was dangerous. Very dangerous.
“We’re all clear on our roles?” Frank growled, eyeing each of the men.
Everyone nodded and remained silent. Waiting. Waiting for Frank to give the nod for the go ahead. Everyone in this gaggle of officers were our friends or acquaintances. We knew their
