Chapter 3: Operation Nightcrawler

The autumn air bit sharp and cold as Leo adjusted his position in the driver's seat of his nondescript Honda Civic. Parked three blocks from Murphy's Tavern, he had a clear view of the entrance while remaining invisible in the shadows between streetlights. The dashboard clock read 8:47 PM—Rex had been inside for nearly two hours, right on schedule.

Leo's earpiece crackled with Ben's nervous whisper. "Overwatch to Base. Target's BMW is still in the lot. No movement."

"Copy that, Overwatch." Leo's voice was calm, professional. The familiar rhythm of coordinated surveillance felt like slipping into an old, comfortable coat. "Chloe, status report."

"I'm in position at the Maple Street intersection," came Chloe's reply. Her voice was steady, but Leo could hear the underlying tension. "Clear line of sight to the turn from Murphy's."

"Marco?"

"Parked at the Rusty Cue. If he follows pattern, he'll be here in twenty minutes." Marco's voice carried barely contained excitement. "Still can't believe we're actually doing this."

Leo checked his watch against the timeline they'd established. Rex's social media posts showed consistent patterns—leave Murphy's between 8:45 and 9:15, drive straight to the Rusty Cue via Maple Street, park in the same spot he'd used for months. Creatures of habit made the best targets.

"Remember," Leo said into his headset, "we're not just making random calls. We observe, we report, we let the system do its job. Everyone clear on their scripts?"

Three confirmations came back. They'd rehearsed this for hours yesterday, each team member assigned specific details to report, specific timing to follow. Multiple witnesses reporting the same vehicle meant credibility. Multiple jurisdictions meant Rex couldn't rely on any single contact to make problems disappear.

"Movement," Ben announced. "Target exiting Murphy's Tavern. He's... Jesus, he can barely walk straight."

Through his binoculars, Leo watched Rex stumble toward his silver BMW, keys jangling in his unsteady hands. Even from a distance, the man's intoxication was obvious—weaving gait, grabbing the car door for support, nearly dropping his keys twice.

"Overwatch, get eyes on his face when he reaches the street light," Leo instructed. "I need confirmation of impairment for the report."

"Roger. He's... yeah, definitely drunk. Pupils dilated, swaying even when standing still." Ben's voice carried a note of disgust. "He's actually getting behind the wheel."

Leo felt the familiar calm that came with operational focus. Rex was about to commit multiple felonies—driving under the influence, driving on a suspended license, probably speeding. All Leo's team had to do was ensure the proper authorities noticed.

The BMW's engine roared to life, Rex's heavy foot betraying his impaired coordination. The car lurched out of the parking lot, tires squealing slightly as he overcorrected his steering.

"Target is mobile," Leo reported. "Chloe, he's heading your way. ETA ninety seconds."

"I see him," Chloe replied. "Leo, he's all over the road. This isn't just about getting him in trouble anymore—he could kill someone."

She was right. Rex's BMW wove between lanes, crossing the center line twice in the space of a single block. Leo felt his jaw tighten. This wasn't just about justice anymore; it was about public safety.

"Phase One initiated," Leo announced, pulling out his first burner phone. He dialed the number for Havenwood Police traffic enforcement, switching to a concerned citizen's voice. "Hello, I'd like to report an erratic driver on Maple Street. Silver BMW, license plate Romeo-Victor-KING. The driver appears to be severely intoxicated—he nearly hit a parked car just now."

The dispatcher's voice was professional but engaged. "Can you stay on the line, sir? We're dispatching a unit now."

"I'm sorry, I'm late for work. But the car is heading toward downtown, probably toward the bar district." Leo ended the call and immediately reached for his second phone.

Chloe's voice came through the earpiece: "He just ran the stop sign at Maple and Third. Didn't even slow down."

Leo dialed the county sheriff's office. Different voice, same concerned tone: "I need to report a dangerous driver. Silver BMW sedan, license Romeo-Victor-KING. He just blew through a stop sign and nearly clipped my car. I think the driver might be having a medical emergency or something—he's all over the road."

By the time Leo reached his third phone—state police highway patrol—Marco was providing real-time updates from the Rusty Cue parking lot.

"Target just pulled in here, and it was not pretty," Marco reported. "Took him three tries to park, scraped against the curb, and he's sitting in his car like he's trying to remember where he is."

Leo made his final call, this time reporting a vehicle that had been driving erratically for several miles, now parked at a known establishment that served alcohol. Three different agencies, three separate reports, all describing the same vehicle and the same dangerous behavior.

"Phase Two," Leo announced. "Everyone maintain position and document everything. Ben, start recording when the police arrive."

They didn't have to wait long. The first patrol car—Havenwood PD—pulled into the Rusty Cue parking lot six minutes after Leo's initial call. Through his binoculars, Leo watched the officer approach Rex's BMW with standard caution.

"Base, the officer is talking to Rex through the driver's window," Marco reported. "Rex is... oh, this is beautiful. He's trying to argue with the cop."

Leo smiled grimly. Rex's arrogance was about to meet reality for the first time in his privileged life.

"He's getting out of the car," Ben's voice was excited. "Leo, the cop is doing the field sobriety test. Rex can't even stand on one foot."

A second patrol car arrived—county sheriff, responding to Leo's second call. Then a third—state police, following up on the highway patrol report. Rex's simple traffic stop had become a multi-jurisdictional incident, exactly as Leo had planned.

"Overwatch to Base," Ben announced. "They're cuffing him. Holy shit, they're actually arresting Rex Vance."

Through his earpiece, Leo could hear Marco's quiet laughter. "Guy's throwing a fit. Yelling about his father, demanding they call his lawyer, the whole entitled rich boy routine."

"Document everything," Leo reminded them. "Video, audio if possible, exact times. This is evidence of how he behaves when consequences actually apply to him."

Chloe's voice was thoughtful: "Leo, how did you know the police would respond so quickly? I've called in drunk drivers before and they took hours to show up."

"Multiple reports from multiple sources," Leo explained. "When three different people call in the same vehicle within ten minutes, dispatch treats it as a priority. Plus, I may have mentioned in each call that the vehicle nearly caused accidents."

"That's... actually brilliant," Ben said. "You turned his own behavior into the weapon that took him down."

Leo watched as the third patrol car loaded an obviously intoxicated Rex into its back seat. The BMW would be impounded, Rex would face multiple violations, and for the first time in his life, daddy's money wouldn't be enough to make the problem disappear immediately.

"Phase Three," Leo announced. "Clean extraction. Everyone return to base via predetermined routes. No unnecessary communication, no celebration until we're secure."

They'd planned their withdrawal as carefully as their attack. Different routes home, staggered departure times, normal behavior that wouldn't attract attention. Within thirty minutes, all four team members were back in Leo's apartment, watching local news coverage of Rex's arrest on Ben's laptop.

"Son of prominent local businessman arrested on multiple traffic violations," Ben read from the news website. "Rex Vance, 28, was taken into custody Friday night after police received multiple reports of erratic driving. Charges include driving under the influence, operating a vehicle with a suspended license, and reckless endangerment."

Marco raised his coffee mug in a mock toast. "To justice finally being served."

"To Rex learning that actions have consequences," Chloe added.

"To Phase One being a complete success," Ben concluded.

Leo didn't raise his mug. Something nagged at him—a feeling that success this easy meant bigger problems ahead. Rex wasn't just some random drunk; he was the son of Marcus Vance, Havenwood's most powerful and ruthless real estate mogul. Men like Marcus didn't accept humiliation quietly.

"What's wrong?" Chloe asked, noticing his expression.

"Nothing's wrong," Leo said carefully. "Tonight went exactly as planned. Rex is in custody, facing real charges that his father can't simply make disappear. We've proven that he's not untouchable."

"But?" Marco prompted.

Leo looked around the table at his friends—good people who'd trusted him with a dangerous plan and executed it flawlessly. They deserved to celebrate their victory. But Leo's training had taught him to think several moves ahead, and every instinct he possessed was screaming warnings.

"But we just poked a very dangerous animal," he said finally. "And now we need to be ready for it to poke back."

The room fell quiet. Outside, the October wind rattled Leo's windows, and somewhere across town, Rex Vance was learning what jail cells looked like from the inside.

Leo hoped his friends were prepared for what came next. Because in his experience, men like the Vances didn't just get mad.

They got even.