M Sellars - Harm none

“Ya’ just do,” Ben whispered back. “Besides, I promised Felicity I wouldn’t let ya’ get hurt.”

The tactical meeting had gone quickly as the veteran members of the MCS had studied the enlarged street map in order to plan the best avenue of assault. From the moment the warrant was signed, the machine that was the Greater Saint Louis Major Case Squad shifted into high gear-each individual doing whatever was necessary to ensure the success of the operation. The local police department had been immediately notified and the house placed under surveillance. That had been just over an hour ago. Thus far, the only activity in the residence had been the lights going off.

We had stationed ourselves on a side street diagonally across from the address while the rest of the force had fanned out around the home. The houses directly behind and to either side had been surreptitiously evacuated in order to keep the occupants out of harm’s way. To someone such as myself who had witnessed such things only on television cop shows, the entire process seemed oddly surreal.

Every member of the Major Case Squad and more than a handful of officers from the local municipality, uniformed and not, were spread in a tight circle around the small brick house. Here and there, if you knew exactly where to look, you could occasionally catch a fleeting glimpse of one of them through the shadows. A flash of eyes peering out the gap of a full-face-hugging balaclava. A quick instant where the stenciled yellow POLICE on someone’s flak vest came into view or even the glint of the streetlights from the barrel of a gun.

“Are you sure you need this many people?” I whispered nervously once again. “I mean, I’m not trying to tell you your job or anything, but, you know…”

If Ben noticed my anxiety, which I’m sure he did, he didn’t mention it. “I’m a great believer in excessive force,” he quipped softly. “’Specially when it comes ta’ assholes like this one.”

The streets were barricaded for two blocks in either direction, and there had been no vehicular traffic for the past ten minutes. The only sound to be heard was the almost mechanical on-again off-again warbling of nature’s chitin-covered orchestra in the trees. Even the city had fallen quiet, or so it seemed.

The sound of a car coasting quietly to a stop behind us violated the hush. I started nervously, and Ben simply turned, still tactfully ignoring my jitters.

Detective Deckert had switched off the headlights and killed the engine farther up the street then allowed the stored momentum to roll the vehicle smoothly up to us. As soundlessly as they could manage, he and Special Agent Mandalay climbed out of the station wagon and gently pushed the doors shut. Our position was fairly obscured by a tall evergreen hedgerow, so they were able to duck down and remain unseen as they made their way forward. The moon had stationed itself behind a shadowy wall of clouds, and we were parked as far away from the streetlights as possible. However, there was still enough of a dim glow for me to see that Deckert had squeezed himself into a vest as well. Over hers, Agent Mandalay had donned a dark blue windbreaker bearing the stenciled logo “FBI” across the left breast.

“What the hell is he doing here?!” Special Agent Mandalay hissed at Ben as she drew up next to us.

“Observin’,” he returned evenly.

“What do you mean ‘observing’?” she declared. “This is a law enforcement operation. He’s a civilian.”

“Raise your right hand, Rowan,” Ben ordered without taking his gaze from her.

“Do what?” I voiced my confusion.

He glanced over at me quickly. “Raise your right hand.” When I had done so, he returned his cold stare to Agent Mandalay. “Do you, Rowan Gant,” he began, “Swear to love your wife, pet your dog, and uphold truth, justice, and the American way, so help you whatever deity it is you Witches worship?”

“You can’t deputize him!” she hissed once again. “This isn’t a cowboy movie!”

“Well, Rowan? Do ya’?” he pressed.

“Sure,” I replied, not knowing what else to say.

“I’m going to have your badge, Storm!” she pronounced angrily through clenched teeth.

“Jeezus Christ,” Deckert interjected in a harsh murmur. “Will you two give it a rest!? We’ve got a psycho to stop. If you’re that desperate to have a battle of egos, I’ll be more than happy to ring the freakin’ bell for ya’… AFTER we catch this guy.”

The combative stares lingered between the two of them a moment longer, then Ben turned his head and reached up to the microphone clipped on the shoulder of his vest and depressed the talk button.

“All positions report in,” he whispered.

The radio on his belt, set to low volume, crackled slightly as each of the pre-designated teams reported in one by one. When all had answered their readiness, Ben slipped his pistol from its shoulder holster and hefted it slightly. Deckert and Mandalay followed suit, the latter still frowning intensely as she quietly filled her hand with a government issue Sig Sauer P226.

“You do only what I tell ya’ ta’ do, when I tell ya’ ta’ do it,” Ben directed the command to me. “Stay behind me at all times, and if I tell ya’ to stay put, then don’t even fuckin’ breathe. Got it?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I got it.”

With another quick glance at Agent Mandalay, he thumbed the microphone switch once again and whispered, “All right, we’re goin’ in.”

I had all but forgotten the earlier itching of the flak vest. Now, as we stealthily advanced across the street and up the steps to the porch of the old brick house, the unpleasant chafing had returned with a vengeance. I was certain that a large part of my discomfort was psychological, directly related to the fact that I was unable to scratch.

I fought to relax and push the sensation from my mind, but the tenseness of the situation had opened the valve on my adrenal gland to full. Energy was crackling riotously through my body like a downed power line in a storm and I noticed much to my chagrin that my hands were shaking.

Ben flattened himself against the wall to the left of the door and silently motioned with his empty hand. His signals made it clear that I was to remain with him while Deckert and Agent Mandalay were to take a similar position on the right. Following his instruction, I pressed myself into the brick, attempting to disappear into its face. Looking out over the front yard we had just crossed, I could see various figures that had advanced behind us, cutting off any avenue of escape for the occupant of the house. I was greatly impressed by the precision with which the entire operation was being executed.

After a few more wordless signals, Ben reached over and slowly depressed the latch on the screen door until it released with an audible metallic click. The noise was something that wouldn’t even be noticed on a normal day, but to us, it sounded as loud as a gunshot. He waited for an eternity, then just a few moments more. No lights came on. No sound issued from the house. The silence was broken only by the raspy cadence of our own shallow breathing. I couldn’t speak for the other three, but my heart was racing at a madman’s pace, threatening to burst from my chest and be contained only by the Kevlar body armor.

Ben began pulling the screen door open at a laboriously slow speed. All the while, his eyes remained locked with those of another cop who had crept up the stairs and was now crouched on the top step. I could only see the man’s eyes as his face was obscured by the tight fabric of a full-face mask. Still, I recognized him as Bill, the young detective that had given me so much grief at the Major Case Squad briefing. He glanced over at me briefly as a flicker of recognition ran through his eyes then gave me a slight nod. From the manner in which the fabric covering the lower half of his face momentarily stretched, I almost believed he smiled.