Chapter 22 – Precision Adjustments
October 6, 2015 – 7:48 AM
Mid-Wilshire Police Station – Tactical Briefing Room
Morning light streamed through the large windows of the briefing room, revealing the unusual bustle on the station's second floor. Maps, sketches of entire city blocks, temporary closure signs, and shift schedules were scattered across the large central table. Federal Secret Service agents came and went with their discreet radios and headsets, while local officials consulted rosters and confirmed assignments. The activity was more reminiscent of a military command center than a city police station.
Angela Lopez stood, arms crossed, listening to the presentation by Colt Harrington—the Counter Assault Team (CAT) agent who had reunited with Derek the day before. Beside her, Tim Bradford and Talia Bishop watched intently as the advanced security briefing was conducted. It was their first time participating in an operation involving a US president.
Across the room, Captain Zoe Anderson was on the phone with Regional Command, organizing alternate routes and contingency units. Sergeant Grey, as always, was checking two clipboards simultaneously, marking with red and purple pens the most reliable officers who would be reassigned to logistical support and perimeter surveillance.
Derek Davis, meanwhile, stood beside Colt, silent, like a veteran operator returned to the field. He was out of his usual uniform. He wore a white shirt, black tactical pants, and a lightweight vest, standard issue for civilian counter-assault missions.
Colt pointed to the digital board in the background.
— "President Obama will land at Bob Hope Airport at 10:43 a.m. Thursday. From there, he will be transported by helicopter to the West Side, near Wilshire Boulevard, where he will participate in a meeting with community leaders, followed by a visit to the educational organization Los Angeles Connect in Fairfax. The stay is six hours. The threat is considered 'moderate,' but CAT protocol requires maximum operations."
He looked at Derek and nodded.
— "Davis will be with us in the CAT hub. He will be part of the forward support team, in the mobile perimeter, and will be in direct contact with the Bravo-1 unit."
Zoe interjected, without losing her composure:
— "The decision was authorized by Washington. Davis has active clearance and a history with the Secret Service. He's the ideal man."
Angela turned to him with a mixture of surprise and pride.
— "So you'll be right up there with the president. Literally."
Derek replied neutrally:
"I'll be wherever I'm most useful."
Bradford laughed.
"What about us? We'll stay on the radio?"
Colt smiled.
"You won't be far away. Officers Lopez, Bishop, and Bradford have been assigned to the proximity covert group. Peripheral security, crowd control, covert surveillance. You'll be integrated into the Beta team in civilian clothes, wearing suits. Your job will be to observe and report any unusual behavior, especially during transition points."
Angela blinked.
"Suits?"
Talia was already laughing.
"At least it's not tactical heat gear."
Zoe interrupted.
"The suits will be provided by Public Affairs. We have a partnership with a local tailor. You'll be fitted this afternoon. The presentation is impeccable."
Bradford sighed.
"At least I'll look like the Latin James Bond."
Angela rolled her eyes.
"You'll look like a B-movie bodyguard."
Derek just watched. But his expression, even restrained, indicated he was pleased. Not because of the glory—but because he saw his colleagues seriously preparing for something that required precision.
2:22 PM – "Paredes & Filhos" Tailor Shop – Westlake
The tailor shop seemed straight out of another time: heavy curtains, old air conditioning, the smell of freshly ironed fabric and polished wood. In the back, a white-haired man with a tape measure hanging around his neck—Mr. Ernesto Paredes—directed the measurements with authority and kindness.
Angela stepped onto the wooden platform, arms outstretched, while Ernesto measured the length of her arms.
"Miss, you have strong shoulders. Firm arms. You're going to dress like a federal agent. I like that."
She smiled.
— "I'll pretend that was a compliment."
Ernesto laughed.
— "Yes, it was. You're going to look like someone who gives orders and doesn't ask permission."
Talia sat, waiting her turn, already trying on a slim-fitting gray suit.
— "Derek should be here to see this. I bet he's never seen you in heels."
— "And he never will. I'll wear black flats. Secrecy and stability come before aesthetics."
Bradford emerged from the dressing room in a navy blue suit.
— "Someone write this down. An ex-Marine, a tough-talking Latina cop, and a white cop trying to look dapper in a rented suit."
Talia laughed.
— "It's the most diverse cast since 'Brooklyn Nine-Nine.'"
Angela stopped in front of the mirror and adjusted her lapel.
"At least we'll be ready. Seriously... this isn't just escorting. This is history."
6:05 PM - Mid-Wilshire Police Station - Parking Lot
Back at the station, Angela found Derek adjusting the discreet holster he would wear under his CAT blazer. He seemed to have returned to a familiar place—not geographical, but internal.
She approached.
"So... everything ready?"
"Yes. The equipment has been tested. The headset is calibrated. The commands have been relayed."
She crossed her arms.
"Aren't you anxious?"
"No. This is just another mission. But not just any mission."
Angela looked at him carefully.
"I'm proud of you."
Derek stared at her, unhurriedly.
"And I'm proud of you. You've grown so much since our first patrol."
She took a step forward.
"And you... feel lighter. It seems this reconnection with your past has done you good."
"It reminded me that I can use everything I was... without losing myself."
She lightly touched his arm.
"Tomorrow is a big day. Let's make it beautiful."
"Let's protect. That's what we do."
And under the red and orange sky of a Los Angeles sunset, two police officers prepared for something bigger than a typical shift.
Tomorrow, the whole city would be watching them but they were ready.
Together.
As always.
Chapter 23 – The Day the City Stood Still
October 7, 2015 – 10:26 AM
Temporary Command Center – Los Angeles
The morning sun bathed the buildings of Los Angeles in a clean, almost ceremonial glow. The weather was steady, the sky cloudless, and the city seemed... contained. The streets were empty, traffic was limited to entire blocks, helicopters circled at a steady pace, and precisely positioned patrol cars guarded every corner like chess pieces in a silent game.
The operation was underway.
President Barack Obama would land in minutes on the makeshift helipad at Wilshire and Fairfax, near the Los Angeles Connect educational organization. The entire area had been sealed off. And within this scene, assembled with almost surgical precision, were the familiar faces of the Mid-Wilshire police station, now in a historic context.
Angela Lopez, Talia Bishop, and Tim Bradford wore impeccable suits—slim cuts, lightweight vests underneath, and discreet radios with direct communication to the command center. Each positioned at a different point along the route: Angela near the community auditorium entrance, Talia at the side entrance, and Bradford on the steps of the sidewalk.
And among the rooftops, surveillance zones, escape routes, and layers of security, he was there:
Derek Davis, now part of the CAT – Counter Assault Team, in his black tactical uniform, fitted ballistic vest, helmet with communications headset, M4 rifle with variable optics, and pistol at his waist. His eyes scanned the room unhurriedly, but without rest. His posture was erect. His shoulders relaxed, but ready.
Angela spotted him first, positioned nearly fifty meters away, between the containment corridors.
She activated the discreet radio microphone:
"Bradford, see that? Third floor, top floor of the gray building. The Ghost is back."
Bradford looked and smiled.
"He's stylish. He looks like a character from 'Sicario.'"
Talia, on another frequency, murmured:
"He seems... in his element. I've never seen Derek so in tune with his surroundings."
Angela didn't respond. She watched. With a mixture of respect, fascination, and something harder to name.
10:41 AM – Advanced Helipad – Wilshire Blvd
The sound of helicopter blades grew louder, cutting through the hot air. Marine One approached in formation with two support helicopters. The wind shook trees, banners, and road signs. Police and federal agents took up positions. The Secret Service moved as a single organism, clearing a path with military fluidity.
When the helicopter touched down, everyone knew the clock was ticking by seconds.
President Barack Obama descended with his characteristic restrained elegance dark gray suit, navy tie waving to the small entourage and greeting the Secret Service officers waiting for him. He didn't seem rushed, but every movement around him said: this man is protected like a national symbol.
Derek, on the roof, saw everything through his helmet's visor: clear audio, steady heartbeat. Beside him, Colt Harrington, CAT chief, murmured:
"All clear so far. Estimated time en route: 4 minutes. Davis, position?"
"Alpha 1, steady. Eyes on the north flank. Nothing suspicious."
And for four minutes, the city froze.
11:22 AM – Community Auditorium – Los Angeles Connect
The event ran smoothly. Obama addressed a small group of community leaders, youth, teachers, and administrators. His voice was firm, inspiring, and in the shadows, in the hallways, were those who ensured he could speak safely: Derek and the CAT, Angela, Talia, and Bradford in their civilian positions. Each with a watchful eye.
12:10 PM – Closing and Final Movement
With his agenda completed, the president was led back to the motorcade. But before continuing, he broke formation and whispered something in the ear of the head of the security detail.
The man nodded and changed course.
12:27 PM – Mid-Wilshire Police Station
A few minutes later, the presidential motorcade pulled up in front of the police station. The local team went on a controlled alert. The street was sealed off. Secret Service agents led the way to the lobby.
Captain Zoe Anderson and Sergeant Wade Grey were already waiting at the entrance, visibly prepared, but still surprised by the gesture.
Bradford whispered to Angela:
"He came here. The President of the United States... to our station."
Talia straightened her suit.
"This day will be the stuff of stories for years to come."
Obama entered the lobby with two officers at his side. He smiled at Zoe and Grey.
"Captain Anderson, Sergeant Grey. Thank you for your hospitality. And most of all, thank you for the hard work you do for this city."
Zoe shook his hand with respect and dignity.
"The honor is ours, Mr. President."
Obama then greeted the other officers. When he reached Angela, he smiled when he saw her badge:
"Angela Lopez. I saw your name on the precinct's notice board. Thank you for your service."
She smiled, not hiding her emotion.
"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. President."
Talia and Bradford were also greeted. Both seemed to struggle to maintain their composure.
Then Obama looked around. An agent gave a discreet nod. And then, from the side entrance, Derek Davis appeared.
Still in his tactical uniform, helmet tucked under his arm, vest adjusted, eyes calm. His presence seemed to hush the room.
Obama smiled.
"It's been a while, Chief Davis."
Angela, Talia, and Bradford froze.
Zoe arched an eyebrow in surprise.
Derek approached firmly.
"Yes, Mr. President."
Obama extended his hand.
"It's good to see you're still serving, even out of the Navy uniform."
Derek shook his hand firmly but humbly.
"There are still battles to be fought, sir. Only the scenarios have changed."
Obama nodded.
"And you continue to make a difference. Thank you, Davis."
Derek gave a slight nod, his eyes steady.
"We're at your disposal."
And with that, the president said goodbye. A few minutes later, he would leave the station and head back to Marine One.
But the Mid-Wilshire station would never be the same.
1:05 PM – Break Room
Angela, still in her suit, sat on the couch, gently kicking off her shoes. She was smiling, but it was more than that. It was pride.
"Did you know the president... personally?"
Derek was standing, carefully removing his vest.
"Our Red Squadron team did field support on a few trips. He always remembered the operators by name."
Talia laughed, sitting next to Angela.
"He called you Chief."
"That was my rank when I retired."
Bradford shook his head.
"And here I thought being a police officer was the pinnacle of my career..."
Everyone laughed.
Zoe walked through the door and stopped, looking at the group.
"The city saw what you did today. But I saw something else: the excellence we've built here. With every patrol. Every conversation. Every gesture of humanity. That's what impresses a president. And it impresses me most."
They looked at each other, touched.
And that day, amidst protocols, uniforms, and historic faces, Derek Davis, Angela Lopez, and all of Mid-Wilshire understood they were living more than just a mission.
They were living history.
[email protected]/SHADOWGHOST07
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