Free Above the Law by J. F. Freedman Page A

disdained local law enforcement people. His attitude had always been, I’ve got a job to do, so get the hell out of my way, amateur. His file had more reprimands than it should have, given his status in the department. But he got results.
    Miller had known Jerome for years. There was no love lost between the two. Jerome was an arrogant prick in Miller’s opinion, an opinion shared by most local cops who have had the misfortune of dealing with him. He had a habit of taking actions in local jurisdictions without checking in first, a normal courtesy. Although this bust had been incubated for over a year, Miller hadn’t known anything about it until a couple hours ago, a bad breach of ethics. Not that Jerome gave a shit, the sheriff knew. Jerome preferred it that way.
    “This isn’t Waco or Ruby Ridge, or any so-called Freeman group,” Jerome reminded his charges, some of them veterans of those fiascoes. “There are no women or children inside. This has nothing to do with religion or politics or strongly held cult beliefs or the moon being in Aquarius or any such bullshit. These men we’re about to take down are major criminals. Period.”
    He paused, looked around. For a brief moment, he and Miller made eye contact. Jerome broke it off.
    “They have a good security system, but they’ve become lax about paying close attention to it. It was shut down earlier tonight, but they don’t know that.” He looked behind him. “Our man here took care of that.”
    Standing off to the side, apart from the group, was a rough-looking man who Miller knew was not officially part of the task force. His name was Luis Lopez; he was a member of the drug ring’s inner circle, now turned informant. Lopez had been sitting in a federal pen, awaiting trial on a murder charge that was going to put him away for the rest of his life, when he made Jerome an offer—drop the charge, and I’ll give you the operation. Jerome persuaded his superiors to make the deal (which included a quarter million in cash to Lopez and immunity from prosecution) and got into bed with the devil. They came up with a cover story for Lopez about having to drop the case for insufficient evidence and set him to work.
    Lopez was high enough in this operation that he could come and go without arousing suspicion. He’d been on Jerome’s payroll for over a year, providing vital intelligence about the security, the number of men inside, all the information the task force needed to mount a successful attack. Lopez had been inside until late last night, when he’d snuck out, unnoticed, after disabling the alarm system. He had assured Jerome that the time was ripe to strike.
    Miller knew of Lopez’s reputation, which was that the man was an unreliable liar. If this was his operation, he wouldn’t be using a scumbag like Lopez.
    Jerome blew his nose. “This pollen’s killing me,” he said as an aside. Turning back to business: “They’re heavily armed, we know that, it’s to be expected; but we’re going to catch them flat-footed. They’ve been untouchables for so long they think they’re bulletproof.”
    He glanced back at Lopez, who nodded. Then he reached into his briefcase and took out an FBI most-wanted poster.
    “It isn’t a secret that the politicos back in Washington are getting anxious. They want a feather for their caps. We all do.” He brandished the poster. “And even more than shutting these bastards down, we want this man.” He looked at the poster himself “Reynaldo Juarez, born in Mexico, now naturalized, age approximately forty. He’s one of the worst characters you’re ever going to encounter. He’s also one of the great shadow figures of all time, a Howard Hughes of bad guys. He comes and goes like an ill wind, never sleeping in the same place more than a few days at a time. But he’s in there tonight, right now.” He pointed down to the compound. “We know that for an indisputable fact.”
    He looked over his shoulder at Lopez, who