Max handed it over, letting her put it in, before taking it back, chuckling.
"Thanks! I mean trust me, that wasn't a setup or something, haha....how you feeling after that?" Max asked, sighing as he leaned against his own car, himself now recovering from the sheer amount of adrenaline that had run through him, the chatty Brit just taking in this moment in its entirety. This didn't feel real, racing on the streets of LA, and running from cops. Why there was so many cops out, Max didn't know, but for $1000 lost, this had been a hell of a rush for this race here.
---
Sitting in the driver's seat of the dutch-plated blue VW Passat, Mark Torridon looked like he was at home, natural as he watched on at the phone on the dash, the agent not working alone today. Wearing a black puffy jacket, a kevlar vest and a pair of jeans, he looked more criminal than cop, more like was selling drugs from a car like this than actually going after a network.
The morning rain poured down in the Dutch capital on an unusually cold morning, and even so, the very slight smell of weed cafes could be smelt from here in the Bijlmer district. He looked across to his right to Athena, knowing their re-introduction had already been covered at Schipol a couple hours ago.
"Any second now. If our friends in LA follow through, we're gonna be green. Should be around here, if our guy's right. Shit, Amsterdam's like fucking Miami....with shittier weather and more canals. Hey, nice as it is to be working again Athena, sorry I can't give you the high life all the time, eh?" Mark said, looking then to his phone, and almost exactly on time, the phone buzzed. Mark leaned over, hitting the recieve button, and putting on the speaker. The man on the other end was another Interpol agent, a man implanted in the LAPD who had been part of this little operation, someone Mark knew a little about, but never in person.
"Hey. It's your guy in Cali."
"Yeah? Enjoying the sun?"
"Mostly- it's getting colder though out here. Anyway, the guy in the BMW. We got him. Arrested on a lot of bad, but he talked quickly when it was gonna get worse for him. Punk was out racing, guy was easy as hell to track, so we just sprang it on him. You were right about that- dude with a car like that was gonna flash it around." The voice on the other end spoke, Mark chuckling.
"Of course I'm right. And what did our mutual friend have to say?"
"Yeah, there's a place in Amsterdam. I'll send you the co-ordinates. Should be what you're out there looking for." The voice called, as Mark nodded, chuckling.
"Good. This place is a shithole, sooner the better. Thanks." Mark replied, picking up the phone, pinging in the location that had come across, the drive not too far from here.
"Happy hunting." The voice called out, an impersonal remark, given Mark's identity wasn't really one for an Interpol to disclose in any format, given how grey he was and unknown. A good double agent had that ability about him- nobody actually knew who the fuck he worked for, bar a few people above his paygrade in Interpol itself.
Cutting the phone, Mark looked across to Athena, opening the glovebox and checking his own P226, the solid gun-metal black Swiss-engineered 9mm pistol loaded and cocked, as he slid it into the driver side door store. The Scot started the VW's engine, pulling out of the parking spot on the side of the road, and quickly putting hammer to throttle.
"Right, so if we're lucky, this place is gonna be empty. Kick the door in, hopefully nobody's in, take whatever intel we can get our hands on, and get out. Fancy, I know. But if we get this, we're gonna have a serious bit of leverage." Mark started, turning a corner, keeping it slow now on the residential streets, canals passing by as they drove through the Dutch capital.
"So, the Syndicate's got a pretty serious drugs running operation out of this guy's flat. Something actually to do with Sobotka, funny to mention. There's a laptop in particular we're looking for- basically it's their transit. We get that, we might have an idea of who this dealer's network looks like...and more importantly, who his boss is. Then we can do some serious bloody damage." Mark added, aware Athena had some idea of the brief, but wanted to give a brief reminder, something before they went into the lion's den. This shouldn't be too intense an op, Mark reminded himself, but anything could happen in a place like this. Anything could be on the other side of the door, after all.
"Thanks! I mean trust me, that wasn't a setup or something, haha....how you feeling after that?" Max asked, sighing as he leaned against his own car, himself now recovering from the sheer amount of adrenaline that had run through him, the chatty Brit just taking in this moment in its entirety. This didn't feel real, racing on the streets of LA, and running from cops. Why there was so many cops out, Max didn't know, but for $1000 lost, this had been a hell of a rush for this race here.
---
Part Two: The Dutch Connection
Amsterdam, the Netherlands
Sitting in the driver's seat of the dutch-plated blue VW Passat, Mark Torridon looked like he was at home, natural as he watched on at the phone on the dash, the agent not working alone today. Wearing a black puffy jacket, a kevlar vest and a pair of jeans, he looked more criminal than cop, more like was selling drugs from a car like this than actually going after a network.
The morning rain poured down in the Dutch capital on an unusually cold morning, and even so, the very slight smell of weed cafes could be smelt from here in the Bijlmer district. He looked across to his right to Athena, knowing their re-introduction had already been covered at Schipol a couple hours ago.
"Any second now. If our friends in LA follow through, we're gonna be green. Should be around here, if our guy's right. Shit, Amsterdam's like fucking Miami....with shittier weather and more canals. Hey, nice as it is to be working again Athena, sorry I can't give you the high life all the time, eh?" Mark said, looking then to his phone, and almost exactly on time, the phone buzzed. Mark leaned over, hitting the recieve button, and putting on the speaker. The man on the other end was another Interpol agent, a man implanted in the LAPD who had been part of this little operation, someone Mark knew a little about, but never in person.
"Hey. It's your guy in Cali."
"Yeah? Enjoying the sun?"
"Mostly- it's getting colder though out here. Anyway, the guy in the BMW. We got him. Arrested on a lot of bad, but he talked quickly when it was gonna get worse for him. Punk was out racing, guy was easy as hell to track, so we just sprang it on him. You were right about that- dude with a car like that was gonna flash it around." The voice on the other end spoke, Mark chuckling.
"Of course I'm right. And what did our mutual friend have to say?"
"Yeah, there's a place in Amsterdam. I'll send you the co-ordinates. Should be what you're out there looking for." The voice called, as Mark nodded, chuckling.
"Good. This place is a shithole, sooner the better. Thanks." Mark replied, picking up the phone, pinging in the location that had come across, the drive not too far from here.
"Happy hunting." The voice called out, an impersonal remark, given Mark's identity wasn't really one for an Interpol to disclose in any format, given how grey he was and unknown. A good double agent had that ability about him- nobody actually knew who the fuck he worked for, bar a few people above his paygrade in Interpol itself.
Cutting the phone, Mark looked across to Athena, opening the glovebox and checking his own P226, the solid gun-metal black Swiss-engineered 9mm pistol loaded and cocked, as he slid it into the driver side door store. The Scot started the VW's engine, pulling out of the parking spot on the side of the road, and quickly putting hammer to throttle.
"Right, so if we're lucky, this place is gonna be empty. Kick the door in, hopefully nobody's in, take whatever intel we can get our hands on, and get out. Fancy, I know. But if we get this, we're gonna have a serious bit of leverage." Mark started, turning a corner, keeping it slow now on the residential streets, canals passing by as they drove through the Dutch capital.
"So, the Syndicate's got a pretty serious drugs running operation out of this guy's flat. Something actually to do with Sobotka, funny to mention. There's a laptop in particular we're looking for- basically it's their transit. We get that, we might have an idea of who this dealer's network looks like...and more importantly, who his boss is. Then we can do some serious bloody damage." Mark added, aware Athena had some idea of the brief, but wanted to give a brief reminder, something before they went into the lion's den. This shouldn't be too intense an op, Mark reminded himself, but anything could happen in a place like this. Anything could be on the other side of the door, after all.