They waited a few seconds to see if anyone would respond before walking toward the open doorway leading deeper into the building. He could hear voices from the hallway and telephones ringing. As they approached the door, a thin, balding man with wisps of white hair clinging stubbornly to the sides of his mottled skin appeared in the opening. He wore a pressed pair of basic khaki pants and a white, short-sleeved button-down shirt with a light blue tie. A faded brown stain stood out prominently on the left breast pocket of his shirt.
"Thanks for coming by, but all sales appointments are going through corporate headquarters over at the Park Street facility. I can give you the number, but I don't know if you'll have much luck with a walk-in order today. I'm pretty sure they're all booked up, as you can imagine. You drive up from Philly?" the man said.
"We have an appointment with Bob Wilkins," Daniel said.
The man's friendly demeanor faded as he folded his arms. "I'm Bob Wilkins, and I don't appreciate sales reps who try to play games. Who are you two with?" he said, raising his eyebrows and crinkling his expansive forehead.
"Bob, can we talk privately?" Daniel asked.
Daniel held out his FBI credentials, while Jessica put herself in a position to reach through the door and grab him if necessary. Wilkins noticed her quick repositioning, his attention now torn between Jessica's close proximity and the badge.
"It has to do with the unusual vehicle traffic here at the White Mills facility, which started last night around five and has run pretty much nonstop since then," Daniel explained.
Bob Wilkins moved further into the room and closed the door behind him. "It's better if we have a seat and pretend you're from the Villanova University concessions. I'm not sure what's going on around here right now."
They all took seats around the coffee table.
"Is this serious?" Wilkins asked.
"Extremely. What have you noticed beyond the vehicle traffic?" Daniel said.
"Look, I've been a loyal employee here for thirty-three years. Maybe I should talk with a lawyer first, or at least have one present."
"Why? Are you directly involved in something that might require legal representation?" Jessica asked.
"No, not at all. But I run this facility, and I'm responsible for everything that goes on here," Wilkins protested.
"You're not under investigation, Mr. Wilkins, and we don't have time for lawyers. I have a tactical team waiting outside, ready to move within minutes," Daniel said.
"What? What are you talking about?" he said, trying to look past Jessica through the front door.
"We know for a fact that a terrorist cell is operating somewhere in your distribution center. All I need you to do is show us where."
"I don't know anything about a terrorist cell. How would I know where they are located?"
"They're using your facility and your vehicles to mass distribute biological weapons. I think you have a pretty good idea where we might find them," Daniel said.
"D-5. Son-of-a-bitch," Wilkins whispered.
"What does that mean? D-5?" Jessica asked.
"D-5 is one of the most isolated loading bay complexes. Mr. Mills shut this one down after the demand for water skyrocketed. Said he would be using it for special customer deliveries."
"Did he give any specific information about the deliveries?" Jessica said.
"Nothing, and I didn't ask questions. I'm too close to retirement to rock the boat. I figured he was sending shipments to preferred customers or private ones. It's his company. He can do whatever he wants. I just didn't appreciate the impact it had on my operations. He's taken over twenty of my drivers out of the rotation, plus several trucks…not to mention an entire bay complex. Then he cuts me completely out of it and puts some woman I've never heard of in charge out there. Anne Renee or something like that. I told him I'd be happy to run the show, but he didn't want to hear it."
"The woman isn't someone from Crystal Source?"
"I have no idea. Never seen her before at any of the management meetings or retreats. Every time I go over there to talk to her about coordinating gate traffic, I'm told she's busy."
"Have you noticed anything else out of the ordinary?"
"Yeah. None of the trucks are from Crystal Source. I saw a few Dasani rigs. You can't miss those. Arrowhead and Aquafina rigs too. I have no idea why these trucks would be at our facility."
Daniel looked at Jessica and shook his head. "So much for narrowing this down," he said ruefully. He turned back to Wilkins. "Mr. Wilkins, I need you to take us to D-5."
"I don't know if that's such a good idea. They have a lookout or something posted outside. It's a long way from D-4 to D-5. Nothing in between. I never get past the guy outside."
"We'll take care of that. Do you have any idea how many people they have inside?" Jessica asked.
"I've never been inside, but they'd need at least a dozen to keep up the pace of trucks leaving the complex. Forklift operators and drivers to deliver the pallets of water. Aside from some of the drivers, the rest of the personnel were supplied by Anne Renee or Mills himself," Wilkins said.
Daniel thought about something he had said earlier. "Are the Crystal Source trucks equipped with GPS? Can you track them?"
"Absolutely. We track the entire fleet from one of the rooms down the hallway. All of the routes are preplanned. If a driver has to vary due to road closures or an accident, they call it in and we reprogram their route. It's pretty high tech. I have a bunch of smart people running that. Each distribution center tracks its own shipments," Wilkins said.
"I'm willing to bet they've been disabled, but it's worth a shot," Daniel said.
"You want to try and locate those trucks? I know which ones they are," Wilkins said.
"Not yet. Let's take a look at D-5 first."
Five minutes later, Wilkins, Jessica and Daniel drove off in Wilkins' Ford Taurus sedan, with the Jeep Grand Cherokee trailing a short distance back. Daniel crouched low behind the back of the front passenger seat, cradling a suppressed P90. The plan was simple. Jessica would accompany Wilkins into the building, with the hope of identifying Anne Renee. Jessica would grab the woman, and Daniel would take down the lookout. Melendez and Munoz would then drive to the back of the loading bay to prepare for a two-pronged assault. Every attempt to take prisoners would be made where practical. They needed information regarding any of the trucks that had left the loading bay since yesterday evening.
Anne Renee Paulson's radio chirped.
"Now what?" she said in front of the two security guards stationed just inside the first bay.
The guy outside was starting to drive her crazy, and she was one false report away from replacing him with one of the less jumpy men watching the bays. The operation had gone off without a hitch. The unusual arrangement had drawn some attention and protest from the facility manager, but Owen Mills had squashed that pretty quickly. Aside from a few impotent visits by that aging idiot Wilkins, nobody had bothered them. She had one more convoy to deploy, and then they would close up shop and disappear. Unlike the laboratory, there would be no need for a "clean up." She was the only person in the warehouse that had any true concept of what they were loading onto the convoys, and even she had no idea where they were headed.
Mills had given her six locked metal containers, numbered one through six. She had been instructed to hand the appropriately labeled box to the lead driver right before departure. The driver would open the box, in front of Anne Renee, with a key personally provided by Owen Mills at some point yesterday. Mills had handpicked the lead driver for each convoy over a year ago and sent them through extensive training courses at the Hacker Valley compound. They were experienced semi-truck drivers, holding current operating licenses for the rigs they would drive, and they understood the importance of ensuring the delivery of their precious cargo. The rest of the drivers came from Crystal Source and had no idea what they were transporting.