That old intense rush came back over him, flowing through him stronger than any drug, that thirty year old thrill of waiting motionless in ambush, to be rewarded by the appearance of the unsuspecting enemy in the kill zone…
They wouldn’t wait now; the snipers and rear security team would already be in position. Ben knew what was coming next, he was ready, he was already wearing his foam earplugs.
He picked up and held in each hand a small green electricity generating “clacker” the size of a computer mouse, each was attached to a thin green wire. They originally came packed with claymore mines, the mines were long gone but the clackers remained.
--------------------------------------------------------- The FBI SWAT team members crouched on the low porch on each side of the front door and looked away, ready for their small breaching charges to blow it inward. A pair of SWAT team members outside the master bedroom was going to initiate the assault by breaking and raking his window with a long handled sledge hammer, and then immediately tossing in two def-tek flash bang grenades with two second delay fuses. The front door breaching charges would be fired the instant that they heard the window shatter, and they would be on top of their man in less than five seconds. They knew just how long it would take, because they had already run through the precise maneuver a dozen times today in full assault gear, on a mockup house with moveable walls inside a darkened hanger on their base at Quantico. They trained and trained and trained, but arresting a violent felon never became routine, and now their adrenaline was surging as it always did.
Each crouching man held his MP-5 with its integral sound suppressor and barrel mounted gun light in front of him, their stocks tucked into their shoulders. Their gloved right index fingers all rested just outside their trigger guards, their right thumbs rested lightly on their safety switches. Their left thumbs were all on the rubber pressure switches wired to the high intensity lights mounted under the gun barrels. One long curved magazine of ten millimeter frangible rounds was in the well of each of their sound suppressed MP-5s, another thirty round magazine was strapped alongside it for a faster first reload, even more magazines were in the pouches of their tactical vests. In each left ear a tiny radio speaker kept them synchronized to the plan as they counted down to one.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ben Mitchell stood peering out between the curtains of the garage window, his hands holding the twin claymore mine clackers firmly, waiting for the assault team to move first, waiting for them to initiate the violence. He saw one of the men below his bedroom window stand tall, leaning over his hedges with a sledge hammer held back over his head, his partner stood up behind him. The long hammer came down through his window, exploding it, and then was raked in a swift circle clearing the screen and the glass shards away as the second man tossed in two small cylinders, flash bang grenades. At the moment that the glass shattered there was a flash of light and a roaring boom from his front porch, and the assault team rose up and went flooding inside.
Ben squeezed both hinged clackers hard and twin electrical charges shot down the thin green wires at the speed of light to the military blasting caps at the other ends.
From my novel Enemies Foreign And Domestic.Scroll to the second half of the chapter to see what happens.