Joint task force targeting domestic threats with international connections. Operating in the shadows between military jurisdiction and civilian law enforcement. Why me? He asks, finally.
Commander Hayes studies him with those same calculating eyes he remembers from their first encounter. Because when you arrested me, you knew something wasn’t right, but you followed procedure anyway. You put duty above instinct.
That’s exactly what we need. Wells considers the opportunity before him. Six months ago, he was a small-town detective.
Now he’s being invited into a world few civilians ever see. When do we start? He asks. Commander Hayes stands.
We already have. Meet me tomorrow at 600, same shooting range where we first met. And Wells? Yes? This time, leave the handcuffs at home.
As she departs, Wells reflects on the strange path that led him here. From arresting a mysterious woman at a shooting range, to joining her in defense of national security life certainly takes unexpected turns. He glances down at the classified folder on his desk, emblazoned with the operation name, Silent Harbor 2. Tomorrow would mark the beginning of a new chapter, one where the lines between law enforcement and military operations blur, where success means that nothing happens, and the greatest victories are the ones the public never hears about.
Frank arrives at the shooting range an hour before dawn, his usual routine for the past 15 years. He’s surprised to find the lights already on inside the main building. Hello, he calls, hand instinctively moving toward the small revolver he keeps for emergencies.
Just me, Frank, comes a familiar voice. Commander Hayes sits at his desk, reviewing what appear to be satellite images. Didn’t expect to see you back so soon, he says, relaxing.
It’s been, what, eight months? Nine, she corrects, closing the folder. And this isn’t exactly a social call. Frank nods, understanding.
Agent Wells called yesterday, said I should prepare for some visitors. He’s a quick study, she replies. We need your range for the next 72 hours.
Exclusive use. Frank raises an eyebrow. That’s a big ask during hunting season.
I know, that’s why this came with the request. She slides an envelope across the desk. Frank glances inside, sees a check with enough zeros to cover six months of operating costs.
That’ll do it. But you know, I would have said yes anyway. We do things properly, she says, even when no one’s watching, especially then.
Over the next few hours, vehicles begin arriving. Unmarked SUVs, a communications van disguised as a cable company truck, and a dozen men and women who, like Commander Hayes, have perfected the art of being forgettable. By noon, the shooting range has transformed into a tactical operations center.
Maps cover the walls, communications equipment fills Frank’s office, and the firing lanes have been converted to staging areas. Wells arrives last, bringing equipment from the NCIS field office. Frank, he greets with a handshake.
Thanks for the accommodation. Couldn’t say no when my country calls, Frank replies. Besides, Commander Hayes has a way of being persuasive without saying much at all.
Wells smiles. That she does. Commander Hayes gathers everyone for a briefing.
For those who haven’t been briefed, we’ve identified a potential security threat operating within 50 miles of this location. Intelligence suggests they’re planning something significant within the next 48 hours. She gestures to the maps.
We have three possible locations for their operations center. We need to identify the correct one without alerting them to our presence. Wells studies the maps.
These are all civilian areas. Two residential neighborhoods and a commercial district. We can’t just raid them.
Exactly, Commander Hayes confirms. Which is why we needed someone with your background, Wells. We need to maintain the firewall between military operations and domestic law enforcement.
The operation unfolds methodically over the next day. Teams conduct surveillance, electronic intelligence gathering, and careful observation of the targets. Wells coordinates with local authorities, establishing cover stories and contingency plans without revealing the true nature of the operation.
Frank watches from the sidelines, impressed by the precision. These people move differently from ordinary soldiers or police officers more efficient, more controlled, communicating with minimal words and subtle gestures. Late that night, a breakthrough comes.
A team monitoring electronic communications picks up coded transmissions from one of the target locations in an abandoned waterfront warehouse that, on paper, belongs to a shell company. We’ve got movement, reports one of the analysts. Thermal imaging shows at least eight individuals inside, plus what appears to be weapons cache.
Commander Hayes studies the feed. Wells, this is where it gets complicated. We have probable cause, but this needs to transition to a law enforcement operation.
Wells nods. I’ll contact the tactical response team, but they’ll need a briefing. Give them the minimum, she instructs.
Foreign trained operatives planning domestic attack. Nothing about our unit or mission parameters. As Wells coordinates with local authorities, Commander Hayes pulls Frank aside.
We need one more thing from you. Name it, he says. When this is over, certain details will need to be forgotten.
The equipment here, some of the personnel you’ve met, the exact nature of the operation. Frank smiles slightly. Commander, I spent 20 years keeping secrets for the Navy.
Some habits don’t break. She studies him for a moment, then nods. That’s why we came here first.
Wells said you were reliable. The raid happens just before dawn. Local tactical teams move in with federal agents, while Commander Hayes and her team maintain overwatch positions, ready to intervene if the situation escalates beyond local capabilities.
It doesn’t. The operation goes smoothly. Eight arrests, a significant weapon seizure, and intelligence materials that will keep analysts busy for months.
The official story released to the press mentions only a successful joint operation between federal and local authorities based on anonymous intelligence. By noon, most of Commander Hayes’ team has disappeared, equipment packed into unmarked vehicles, leaving no trace of their presence. Frank methodically returns the range to its normal configuration.
Wells finds him replacing target stands. Thank you, he says simply. For what? According to the news, I had nothing to do with anything, Frank replies.
Wells smiles. Exactly. As the last vehicles prepare to depart, Commander Hayes approaches Frank one final time.
This range seems to be a nexus point for interesting activities. Just a place where people practice their skills, Frank says. Some more specialized than others.