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He gave a card to each of them and walked toward the door.

Mike looked down at the card. “Sure thing. I hope Mitch isn’t in trouble. He’s a good guy and all. When his girlfriend broke up with him, I tried to help him find a place to stay.”

“Pardon me?” asked the officer as he turned away from the door.

21

Mitchell was in the attic when he saw the police pull up. He’d wanted to wait for nightfall before he moved on to his next hideout. The police were going to complicate things.

Overhead a police helicopter was hovering to provide support in case Mitchell ran. Up in the attic, looking at the street, he didn’t notice the thumping of the rotor until it grew louder.

Two blocks over, a retired broker and his wife were ushered back into their house by the SWAT team leader when they went outside to find out why the large van was parked in their driveway. The SWAT team had been on alert since the crisis at the shopping mall. Once the officer got the address from the intern at the radio station, they got a warrant to arrest Mitchell at that location.

There were five men on the SWAT team, plus their commander, who was in the van along with the driver. The plan was to send three men in through the back and have two approach the front door. They were going to do a “no knock” search in case Mitchell was armed.

The three men assigned to the back of the house ran through the adjoining backyards and took up a position right behind the fence that separated the yards between the two houses.

One man popped his head up and looked into the backyard and sliding glass windows.

“Back yard clear. Back interior clear,” he whispered into his radio.

From the van, the commander gave the command, “Go.”

One man went left while the other went to the right. Their plan was to scale the fence at the far ends and then approach the house at a diagonal angle. That would put them in the blind spot if Mitchell looked out the window.

Despite their gear and body armor, they both swiftly climbed over the fence and were at the opposite sides of the house in seconds. The third man climbed over the same spot on the fence as the man on the right had. He joined them at the corner of the building.

He whispered into his microphone, “Back of the house.”

The commander tapped the driver on the shoulder. Fast but not recklessly so, he drove around the block and brought the van to a stop in front of the house.

Two men in the back jumped out and ran to the front door. One of them had a knocker, a heavy metal cylinder used for knocking doors open at the knob. He held it back at the ready. The other man gave the commander a hand signal.

The commander spoke into his microphone. “Red team go.”

The man with the knocker slammed it against the door handle. The door flew open, sending a shower of splinters from where the lock had been. Both men pulled their bodies away from the door frame.

“Mitchell Roberts, we have a warrant for your arrest,” shouted the man to the left of the door.

There was silence in the house. Red team leader gave a signal to the commander. He spoke into his microphone, “Red team proceed.”

The two men entered the living room. As one man stepped in, the other would follow. Each one kept his gun trained on a different part of the room.

“Living room clear,” said red team leader. “Proceeding to hallway.”

The two men stepped into the hallway, keeping their backs firmly against the wall. From that position they could see the back sliding glass doors and backyard. Out of sight, but waiting, were the other three SWAT team members.

“Unlocking the back door,” said red team leader. He darted over to the sliding glass door and unlocked it with a shim, faster than the original owners ever did with the key. He pushed the door open and then pressed his back flat against the wall to the side of it.

“Blue team go,” said the commander.

The three men in the backyard entered the house through the open glass door. The joint five-man team proceeded to check all the rooms and closets in under twenty seconds.

“First level clear,” said the red team leader. “Checking the garage.”

The blue team from the backyard kicked open the door that led from the kitchen. They entered with their guns pointed at all the corners.

“Garage clear.”

“How’s it look inside there?” asked the commander.

“Like nobody lives here. There’s no sign of anyone having been there. What now?”

“Proceed to attic,” said the commander.

The red team leader pointed to the attic door. He pointed to another man and gave him a hand signal telling him to look for another entrance to the attic. The other man nodded and went back into the house with another member of the SWAT team following. They checked all the bedrooms and found another entrance in a hall closet.

“Hall closet,” he said into the microphone.

“Hold steady,” said the red team leader. He reached into his pack and pulled out a periscope that extended almost two feet. Since there was no way to open an attic door quietly, all three men stepped clear of the opening. The man closest to the rope handle pulled it down. It made the inevitable creak.

“Mitchell Roberts! Surrender now.”

Mitch stayed calm as he heard the team leader shout out his name.

From below, the SWAT team could see the attic was completely dark. One of the men pulled several light sticks from his pocket and threw them into the attic. The team leader lifted the periscope into the attic and looked through it.

The attic was filled with lots of dark corners but nothing was moving. Off to one side he could see several boxes and what may or may not have been a man lying down. He whispered into his microphone, “Blue team go.”

Using a ladder from the hall closet, which saved one of them a trip to the van, the first man in the hall closet pushed open the hatch covering the entrance and threw in three more light sticks. He then ducked back down.

The red team leader handed the periscope off to another man. He called out into the attic, “Mitchell Roberts, surrender now or we’ll gas you out.”

Although that was an option, at this point it was meant as a means to intimidate him. If he was a known felon assumed to be armed, they’d go straight to tear gas and not risk it. In this situation the commander had the discretion to take him peaceably first. The last thing he wanted to do was to send one of his men into a dark space with a bad guy with a gun.

The team leader spoke into his microphone. “No response.”

“Proceed with tear gas,” replied the commander.

The three men in the garage put their gasmasks on. The team leader pulled a canister from a pouch and threw it into the attic. He heard it pop and hiss as the smoke started coming out, filling the attic. The three men stood back from the entrance to avoid getting attacked by any animals that tried to escape the smoke.

The team leader was going to give it another minute and then climb into the attic himself with his night vision and compact assault rifle.

* * *

After counting out a minute, the red team leader climbed into the attic holding his rifle in front of him as a shield. His night-vision goggles revealed the attic interior in bright green light. The shape that may or may not have been a man was just a pile of clothes. To confirm it, he pushed the barrel of his rifle between the boxes and pushed them apart.

It was an old pair of slacks and some golf cleats that had spilled out of a box. He gave the attic another look and then hopped back down to the garage.

“All clear,” he said into his radio.

While he was relieved that his men were safe, it was frustrating not to get the guy. He hopped out of the van to take a look himself. He walked over to the front of the house and looked at the broken door. He called over to one of the men, “Do we have a temp we can fix that with?”