A few hours later I was typing up a report when James came flying out of his office and down the stairs.
"Everyone can I have your attention?"
I got up and walked over to him as did everyone else. I looked to my side and saw Keith standing next to me. "We just traced a lead back to a warehouse where we believe Anthrax is being stored. This man is Jonathan Grey," James said. He nodded to a techie, Fred and a photo appeared on the big screen in the center of the room. Grey looked like just an average guy in a business suit, the kind of person you'd never suspect to be a terrorist. He was tall and well built with short cropped brown hair and hazel eyes. It was the eyes that gave him away, the hatred and anger evident in them even in the picture.
James continued: "He is a militia man turned fascist and we believe he has plans to spread the Anthrax all over DC. He thought he could get away with what he was doing, because our attention has been on 9/11 and Al-Queda, but he slipped up. I need everyone on this. I need satellite images of the warehouse, building plans, live audio and video feed for our agents going in. I need to know how many people there are and where they are inside. Pete, Keith, Amanda and Jeff you are going to the warehouse and will run a covert operation. You'll be on comm, Amy will lead point. SWAT will be on site, a perimeter has to be set. Let's get em'." He snapped his fingers and everyone scattered off in different directions.
I hurried off to the locker room, and changed into blue jeans, a maroon turtleneck, and boots. I threw on a Flak jacket and put my gun: a nine millimeter, in the holster around my waist. After putting on my black leather jacket to hide the vest and gun, I placed the two-way radio in my pocket and stuck the piece in my ear. I slipped my PDA, and cell into the other pocket. Quickly re-twisting my hair back into a bun I ran out of the locker room. Keith was waiting outside; he had changed into jeans, a brown shirt, and a green corduroy jacket, with brown boots. He looked amazing as I stole another glance at him.
We headed out to the parking lot and joined Jeff Daughtery and Pete Callaway who were already in one of CTC's gray SUV's. Jeff was built like a bean pole, with dark red hair and piercing green eyes. Pete was a tall, muscular black man with a crew cut and light brown eyes; one punch from him and you wouldn't get back up. Pete and Jeff were close friends, who went way back, and always worked together.