Courts and Cabals 2 by G.S. D'Moore (warren buffett book recommendations TXT) 📗

were all on the younger side, and full of the piss and vinegar that came with it. When Vernon put out the call, he didn’t want anyone who’d been on the force for too long. There was too much of a chance one of the old salts would flap their lips in the wrong ears. He didn’t need that on an operation this size.

At the front of the squad cars was a BearCat. The armored personnel carrier had the local SWAT team inside. If the cabal resisted, the SWAT team would need to cover his retreat. Vernon had no illusions of his ability to win a fight in the heart of the cabal HQ, but he was going to make sure he had enough firepower to withdraw, secure the area, and call in the big guns. He’d already radioed the Director, and the nearest Echelon Team was on standby to assist.

Not to be left out of the fun, three black SUVs, that had FBI written all over them, idled at the rear of the formation. They didn’t have time to get an HRT team in place, like the one Vernon had during the Seattle vamp op, but there were several supernaturals in the local office, and they were all armed for war.

The rational side of him prayed the cabal would be smart and come quietly, but another part wanted blood for blood. Part of him wanted to take someone out. He resisted that animalistic impulse as he held up the piece of paper to the gathered men. Everything had moved quickly once they reviewed the security footage, but the LVPD had planned for this contingency for a long time.

“Mount up!” the sergeants scattered among the officers yelled, and people hopped into squad cars. Like a stampeding herd, the vehicles rumbled to life. The BearCat gave a particularly large belch as Vernon hopped into the passenger seat and started strapping on his body armor. His colts were all the firepower he needed, but just in case, he slapped a double layer of wards all over his body. Charging them made him a little woozy, but the adrenaline more than made up for it.

The BearCat rumbled down the strip with lights but no sirens. It was hard to be sneaky in a metal monster, but he’d take any advantage he could get.

“Our job is to secure the lobby,” he reminded the SWAT team; even though they’d been rehearsing for the last hour. It was nowhere near enough time, but they worked with what they had. “Secure any guests for vetting, round up the staff, secure the elevator banks, block off the casino, and for the love of the gods make sure we can control a crowd. Weapons discipline is a must. If any of you has an itchy trigger finger and shoots a civilian, I will personally end your career. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” the team yelled before going over their final weapons checks.

The main entrance to Caesars Palace was packed with cars underneath a large overhang. Locals, tourists, and staff gawked as the BearCat maneuvered its bulk right up to the door as quickly as possible. The team didn’t even wait for Vernon’s go; they just went to work. The arriving guests must have thought it was some movie or TV shoot, but when they saw armed officers streaming out of the vehicle; that’s when the screaming started. A flood of bodies pushed away from the entrance and toward the street where the black and whites were already setting up a perimeter. The crowd got caught between the two, but that was Vernon’s problem. He had to trust every arm of the operation to do its part.

He moved forward with the rest of the team, up the stairs, through the ornate doors, into the opulent lobby, and nearly ran over Cameron Dupree standing by the fountain in the center of the room with his hands up and a nervous expression on his face.

“What the hell?” Vernon’s mind hesitated, but his training didn’t.

His colt targeted the novel supernatural; a quick flick of his finger to the appropriate chamber, a little pressure on the fleshy part of his trigger finger, and . . . boom. The lightning round hit the kid dead center. Dupree squealed like a stuck pig before dropping to the ground. He didn’t shit himself, but it was probably a close thing. Lightning rounds carried a hell of a punch.

“What the hell was that for?” yelled multiple voices.

“That was uncalled for, Agent,” a man dressed in a suit that cost more than Vernon made in a year managed to sound reproachful while having a gun aimed at his face.

“Standard protocol for novel supernaturals, sir,” Vernon kept the anger out of his voice as two members of the SWAT team rushed forward with shackles.

“Standard protocol for a man surrendering himself?” the man who reeked of lawyer raised an eyebrow, and Vernon could already see him building a defense. He didn’t let it get to him. He focused on his task.

“Xamira Venitas, Dani Underwood, and Lilith Venitas,” his eyes roamed over the three other people he was here to take into custody. “You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. No form of mind control or alteration will be used against you until you are in the presence of an attorney and advised of your additional rights to privacy. You have a right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one; one will be appointed for you. As supernaturally registered individuals, you will be remanded into the custody of the supernatural courts of the United States of America for arraignment. Do you understand the rights as they have been explained to you?”

“Yes,” all three women answered, as Dupree groaned on the ground.

“Secure the lobby,” Vernon ordered, “get LVPD in here, we need to search . . .”

“I don’t think so, Agent Dud,”