Chapter 61
It was dusk when Sherman Dixon drove down Warren Street in Waltham with a six-member FBI SWAT team, which, to his surprise, included Bob Branson. They turned quickly into the parking area of the warehouse on the right, opposite the car storage lot, and drove behind the large building where they’d hidden before.
The Massachusetts State Police had an eight-man Special Tactics and Operations team already in place on the other side of the hangar. The STOP team was split up; six hidden behind the stored cars, and two snipers in the woods.
The combined assault force wore dark, full ballistic armor. They carried sub-machine guns and assault rifles. Although Sherman was armed and wore a protective vest and helmet, he was not a SWAT member, so he would go in last.
Bob Branson had just alerted the STOP unit that an undercover DEA agent had confirmed that Vinnie Santoro had picked up Guy Tambini. It was assumed they were headed for the lab here. The narc also said they met with four other men; two of whom got into the car with Santoro and Tambini, and two others who followed behind them in a truck.
And so, they waited.
It was fully dark when the car and truck turned onto Warren Street. They passed the hidden SWAT team and turned left on the dirt road behind the hangar.
The SWAT team waited four minutes and then scurried across the street and down to the hangar, hugging the side of the metal structure. Sherm was amazed at how quietly the team moved, despite being so heavily armed. Bob Branson was in the lead, with Sherman bringing up the rear. Bob held up his hand to signal the men behind him to stop.
The drug crew had backed the truck up to the door and left one man outside, armed with an AK-47. There was a low “ph-h-t” and the guard fell to his knees and then onto his face in the dirt as the police sniper’s dart hit its mark.
Branson grabbed the guard’s assault rifle, and the STOP team ran out from the other side of the hangar with the battering ram. The flimsy door caved in immediately, frame and all.
“FBI! FBI! POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! HANDS IN THE AIR! NOW!”
Everyone’s adrenalin was sky-high. Sherman entered the building last. There were at least thirty people in the building, including the police. Most of the actual workers… cookers, cutters, and packagers…were minorities, and they all had their hands in the air. It was easy to spot the bosses. Sherm recognized Guy Tambini from the photo on the wall at the FBI field office.
Suddenly, guns were firing, the air was vibrating, and Sherm was knocked hard, back against the wall. He slid to the floor, trying to process what had just happened. A man next to him collapsed on the floor, blood shooting from his face or his neck. Then Bob Branson was in front of him, shooting. Then it stopped. Sherm felt like he was in a trance…like everything was in slow motion. He knew he was shot…but oddly, there was no pain.
“Dixon! You okay?”
Bob sounded far away. Then everything went dark.
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