Chris Carter - Gallery of the Dead

Wearing the latest technology night-vision goggles, all three teams entered the house from both doors, cruising through rooms they knew only from a floor plan like ghosts through a cemetery.

Gamma team rushed through the front door and reached the stairwell that led to the house’s second floor in three seconds flat. A second later the entire team was upstairs.

Beta team followed Gamma team in, beginning their sweep of the ground floor through the entry foyer, before moving on to the living room.

Alpha team entered the house through the kitchen. The door that led them to the basement was identified on the blueprint and sat next to a large double-door fridge on the south wall.

‘It’s unlocked,’ the first Alpha team agent who got to the door hand-signaled his team leader.

He’s probably downstairs , Agent Richardson thought, and signaled the rest of the team to proceed in two-by-two cover formation. He would take point.

The door led to a wide concrete stairwell. There was a light bulb above their heads, just past the door, but it was switched off. Agent Richardson hand-signaled his team that they were moving down to the next door at the bottom. In between the first and second doors there were twelve steps.

The door at the bottom was also unlocked. There was no light from the other side. Another signal told the agent behind Richardson to push the door open while the rest of the team stormed into the next room. Fingers counted down from three... two... one.

The team thundered through the door and into a wide room where the wall across from them was lined with wooden shelves. Those had been divided into separate, different-sized compartments, each holding a clear glass jar. A laboratory-like smell lingered in the air.

What the actual fuck? Agent Richardson thought, as the entire team focused their attention on the contents of the jars.

The team cleared the room and moved to the second door — also unlocked. It dropped them in a corridor where the walls were cinderblock, the floor concrete and the ceiling white, with long strip lights. These were on.

To prevent the team from going blind, their night-vision goggles immediately adapted to the new light. Still, the team quickly removed them.

The corridor was straight for about ten yards before bending left.

The team moved silently and cautiously.

‘This is Gamma team leader,’ Agent Richardson heard the voice come through his headset. ‘Upstairs is clear. Neither of the subjects is up here, but we did find a control room of sorts. There’s a makeshift control desk and no less than ten monitors. We did try switching them on in case they could give us an idea of where the girl is located, but all we got were snowing screens. If they were receiving images from broadcasting cameras anywhere, it’s all been disconnected. There’s also a board covered in schematics of what looks to be plans for remotely activated engines and light switches. According to the schematics, the engines are to be placed on sliding doors somewhere, so they can be opened or closed remotely, so be extra vigilant, over.’

‘Roger that, Gamma team,’ Richardson replied. ‘We suspect the subject, at least one of them, might be down here in the basement. Secure that control room and those schematics and await further instructions, over.’

‘Roger that. Do you need any help down there? Over.’

‘That’s a negative, Gamma leader. Over and out.’

As Alpha team rounded the corridor corner, they saw two doors, both of them on the wall to their left. There was light seeping from under the first door. The same wasn’t true for the second one.

Richardson hand-signaled his team that they would storm through the first door. Once again the team got ready.

One of Alpha team’s agents placed his back against the wall to the right of the door and very carefully tried the handle. A couple of seconds later, while keeping the handle all the way down, he nodded at Agent Richardson, indicating that the door was unlocked.

Up came the finger count.

Three...

Two...

One...

The agent with his back to the wall swung the door open in one very smooth movement. A millisecond later, the other four members of Alpha team blasted through into the room beyond.

‘Mommy isn’t coming for you,’ the man had said as he returned the remote control to his trouser pocket and began gloving his hands. ‘Nobody is ever coming for you... Except me.’

Maybe it was the sincerity in the man’s tone of voice, or maybe it was because the girl sensed danger in every word he spoke, but as he got to her and placed a hand on her left shoulder, the girl lost control. The fear that had begun as butterflies in her stomach rapidly spread throughout the rest of her body, manifesting itself in irrepressible shudders, forcing the tears that had welled up in her eyes to finally roll down her cheeks.

Without being able to move, frozen in place from pure fear, the girl wet herself.

The man looked back at her in disgust. As he circled around the girl, positioning himself directly behind her, the door to the small room they were in was pushed open and, in a blink of an eye, five FBI agents stormed in.

Despite how shocked the man was, he was able still to quickly slide his hand from the girl’s shoulder to her neck and bring her close against his body.

‘Don’t move!’ five different voices shouted at the same time. The aims of five different assault rifles targeting the same two-square inch spot over the man’s chest.

‘Let the girl go,’ Agent Richardson commanded. His voice was calm but overflowing with determination.

The man said nothing in reply, his big and powerful hand completely covering the girl’s neck, his fingertips rounding it to her nape. He wouldn’t need a second hand to snap the life out of her.

‘Let the girl go,’ Agent Richardson commanded again. ‘It’s over. You know you can’t win.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ the man said, his eyes moving down to his hand before returning to the five agents before him.

Heather tried to breathe through her nose, but the air seemed to travel into her nostrils in chunks, making her entire head shake with the effort, her tears now wetting the man’s hand.

‘It’s OK, Heather,’ Agent Richardson said. Though he was speaking to the girl, his eyes never left the man standing behind her, holding her by the neck. ‘Your mommy sent us. We work with her. We’re going to take you home, sweetheart.’

The girl tried to speak, but the man’s grip against her neck was too tight and all her vocal cords were able to produce was a meager squealing sound.

‘It will take me just a split second to break her neck,’ the man said, his eyes playing a tug-of-war with Agent Richardson’s. ‘You know that, right?’

‘You really want to talk calculations?’ Agent Richardson replied. ‘OK, I think I can do that. If you were lightning fast, it would take you maybe a second to do what you said you would do, but you would need both hands to be able to do it that fast. With only one hand it would take you one, possibly two seconds more, and remember, you would still have to be lightning fast to be able to accomplish that. The problem you have is that we’re all carrying modified M16 assault rifles with high-velocity ammunition. That means that a round will leave the barrels of our weapons at an average speed of 2,750 feet per second, or 1,875 miles per hour. The distance between our weapons and you is about eight feet, give or take a couple of inches. If we throw that into the equation, we’ll get that any one of our rounds would reach your chest in about 0.00002 of a second. I can’t really compare that to anything to give you a better example because nothing in this world can travel that fast. So, like I’ve said, whichever way you look at this, you’ve lost. You and the girl are coming with us, whether you want it or not. The girl will be unharmed, there’s absolutely no doubt of that, but you’ve got a choice — unharmed, or in a body bag — and I’ll give you three seconds to make that choice. Three...’