Forced Entry

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THE TACTICAL OPERATIONS TEAM sneaked through between the tall trees in the woods, approaching the target. The green night vision goggles each one wore revealed the modern structure of the target's hideout, in the distance. It was dark, at night, and the building didn't cast any lights from its interior.

The team's leader, crouched in the bushes, signaled with his hand for the team to advance. Ten men were approaching the house from the forest. Other teams, with roughly the same number of men, were surrounding the house from the south, one from the north and the last team came from the lake.

In their briefing, caution was advised. The suspect could be in the safehouse, and not even that number of men could possibly outgun him – nor they wanted to kill him. Their boss needed him alive, even if that simple order could jeopardize the success of the operation. For that reason, and following standard protocol, they were with their weapons loaded and ready to fire, aiming at all times. It seemed as though their assault rifles, pressed against their faces, were part of their helmets.

The team arrived in the back porch of the house. The glass panels revealed to them the interior of the house. Empty.

The second team, coming from the lake, joined them. One of the soldiers, in the back of the group, approached the glass door with a laser glass cutter. After nearly a minute, a semicircle was cut near the lock of the door, and the team entered the house. The garage door was opened so the other two teams could enter.

Around 40 men were inside the house, and up to that moment, none was willing to split up. With the first floor secured and fully checked, the team leader whispered, in a low tone, followed by a sign pointing to the staircase:

_Clear.

They moved to the second floor, following the procedures revised in the staged house built for them to practice, while eight men stayed in the first floor, securing the place. Three of them crouched in the kitchen, constantly aiming at the fridge.

From upstairs, after checking the bedroom, roof and office, the team leader whispered the word a second time, clearing the team to proceed to the basement.

_Clear.

The entire team prepared to open the secret passage to the basement. A fridge, accessed pulling a book in a nearby shelf. According to their intel, it was the only part of the house where the target could acquire weapons.

After a soldier pulled the book, the fridge went underground, moving vertically downwards. A smoke grenade was thrown. Even if he wasn't there, it was standard procedure for a small point of entrance like that.

Thirty men went downstairs. The lasers, pointing out from their rifles, illuminated the metal double doors ahead of them in red dots of light.

The team went through the corridors beneath the house, perfectly splitting in three teams of 10. The first, heading left, checked the corridor filled with rooms. A closet, an infirmary and a vault, filled with belongings. However, none of them had the target.

The second team headed to the right, walking past a table, a center of operations and finding the armory. There was no one at the shooting range. The futuristic design of the basement was impressive – green glass panels showcased the many weapons stashed by the target, from his signature ballers to unpredictably lethal hiking quickdraws.

_Weapons secured. – A soldier spoke to the radio.

The last team had gone past the operations center, securing a bathroom, a lounge and a room designed for maintenance, filled with pipes and electrical panels.

With the confirmation that the place was empty, the team leader put down his gun, and spoke to the radio.

_All clear. Search and secure the item.

The team disbanded. Each had been designated to an area of the safehouse – they would tear that place apart, destroy the walls and floor if necessary.

"If that book is here, it will be found," the team leader thought to himself. "If not... The target is going to find a mess when he comes back."

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