“Bravo Four,” the man said.
Court zipped up the black tactical pants while the radio came alive.
“Bravo One, check.”
“Two check.”
“Bravo Three check.”
Court clicked the transmit button, but he rubbed his headset mic against the stubble on his chin as he spoke to mask the sound of his voice. “Four check.”
The next man on the team continued the roll call.
Court fastened the utility belt around his waist, not taking time to thread the belt through the loops. It was a little large for him, like the rest of the gear, but he made it work.
Court then cuffed the ERT officer to a pipe extending from the water heater, then he pulled a flash bang grenade out of the officer’s load-bearing vest.
—
Alpha One stood outside the master bedroom on the second floor of the Mayberry home. Two of his men trained their laser aiming devices on the closet door at the far end of the room. Under the door, faint shadows moved back and forth at irregular intervals.
Alpha One shouted, “D.C. Metro Police! Come out of the closet! Hands high!”
There was no response then, nor when he repeated the command two more times.
Finally Bravo Six entered the room, moved to the side of the door. He let his rifle hang from its sling and pulled his pistol from his drop leg holster, then he used his free hand to reach for the door. Everyone else tightened for action, their laser pointers evenly spaced across the door as Bravo Six slid it open.
On the floor in the back of the closet, a flashlight stuck out of a woman’s shoe. In front of this was a huge puddle of milk, and around the puddle, three cats moved around, lapping it up hungrily.
“Son of a bitch,” the ERT man mumbled.
A flash bang grenade went off on the ground floor below them.
—
The four regular police officers watching the backyard of the house from the neighbor’s yard saw the flash of light in the windows. The explosion broke glass in the kitchen that flew out over the patio. As they knelt behind a fence and watched, they heard in their radios the calls of the tactical team as they lined up on the second-floor stairs, ready to hit the floor below them from the stairwell.
It was clear they were missing a man, but these four in back understood why. A single tactical officer, his rifle in his left hand and his right hand clutching his left elbow, appeared in the side yard. The cops thought he might have come either from the front of the house or the basement apartment.
He ran up to them; clearly he was hurt, but at least he was ambulatory. While one of the cops made the officer-down call, the other three covered for the wounded ERT man as he ran past their position, all the way through the yard, and towards the street on the other side of this property. None of the men noticed the cop was wearing a backpack that was not police issue.
One of the officers started to run to help him, but he was called back by the other three. They knew they needed to hold their position in case the suspect appeared and tried to run after the fight inside.
—
Court ran to the street, where two police cars sat parked on the corner. The cars were both empty with their doors open, but four armed officers stood nearby, ready to block any traffic trying to get into the neighborhood.
“Ambulance is on the way!” one cop called out when he saw the tactical officer. “How bad is it?”
Court was all the way up to the two vehicles when he slowed and stopped. He let go of his arm now, and raised the rifle. “Show me your hands.”
“What the hell?”
“Where are the keys?”
No one spoke; they were all clearly stunned. Court glanced in one of the cruisers and saw the keys in the ignition. “Drop your weapons on the street, kick them away.”
All four did as instructed, and Court leapt into the cruiser, fired it up, and then raced off.
He knew this drive would be a short one. The helicopter pilot above would be informed of the situation in seconds, and it wasn’t tough for a cop in the sky to track a cop car on an empty street.
He pulled under a covered parking space in an apartment complex just seven and a half blocks away, parked the squad car, and leapt out, leaving the rifle behind. Just as the helo above neared his position, he sprinted through the parking lot, then he climbed a fence and dropped down into a drainage canal that ran at the back of the apartment complex.
He knew where he was going, after having studied satellite maps of his neighborhood to plan for rushed escapes.