Report #3270, Transcript Section #25
(Operation SANDMAN)
©1998 Shane Ivey

Cabot:
BTW Lundquist, besides armor-piercing, what was the other qualification of the ammo you requested for your .50 sniper rifle?

Rogers:
explosive toxic heat seeking bullets please.

Lundquist:
Just AP... That military APDS round they developed for the big anti-material rifles.

Lundquist:
As opposed to regular machine-gun rounds.

Cabot:
Okay.

Lundquist:
I figure hunting a helo with a sniper rifle is pretty loony, but I also figure the thing's going to have good IR masking, enough to throw off a shoulder-fired SAM...

Lundquist:
Plus, having a big sniper rifle with us can come in handy in lots of other situations too.

Rogers:
Like when we go insane and start running away, or do i mean come to our senses and start running away.

Cabot:
If they're unmarked, they're probably flying dark with AN-PVS (at night). Get em' stationary and fire a flare gun at them. They'll bug out to altitude to avoid hitting something.

Rogers:
?????

Cabot:
Night-vision goggles don't react well to sudden glares of phosphorescent light.

Borrow:
Why not just throw chains off the tops of buildings and get it stuck in their blades? :P

Cabot:
I'm serious. It would probably work.

Borrow:
I believe you, I have very little idea how helicopters work. :)

Borrow:
I'm guessing they are kinda like an upside down fan. :P

Cabot:
Oh, it's not the helicopeter. It's th night-vision goggles the pilot's are wearing. They're calibrated and sudden, intense light causes them to react like a human pupil. Just a big white light.

Keeper:
Lundquist, it has been a couple or three hours since the big shootout atop the Breckenridge skyscraper.

Keeper:
In that time, you've been on the phone to Washington about sending investigators to take the corporation apart, I believe.

Lundquist:
Oh yeah.

Lundquist:
Again, we want to gather whatever information we can, and deny the use of B-ridge's facilities and personnel to our adversaries.

Keeper:
Cabot, you're arriving on the scene about now. (Yes, I'm gonna make Borrow stew a bit before get to him!)

Keeper:
What's your cover ID?

Borrow:
Hehe.

Cabot:
FBI HRT, instructed to look into the situation.

Cabot:
Perhaps,a liason officer?

Keeper:
HRT liaison works.

Keeper:
It's a chaotic scene at the Breckenridge Building, midtown Manhattan.

Keeper:
The block is crawing with police officers and federal agents, some in uniform, others in navy blazers with various agencies designated in bold letters on the back, others in black body armor.

Keeper:
There are sizeable crowds gathered at barricades not far off, many of them still looking up toward the top of the building, where helicopters occasionally fly overhead.

Cabot whispers to Keeper:
Prior to arrival at the scene, I have taken a hotel room at a reputable chain to store my equipment. I assume I have an FBI HRT jacket?

Keeper whispers to Cabot:
Sure.

Keeper:
News crews have set up at points around the barricades, showing shots of the officers while reporters angle for someone to interview.

Keeper:
Meanwhile, a lot of confused-looking agents and officers seem to be tapping their flashlights and radios in consternation.

Cabot:
As I pull up in my rental car and begin moving toward the scene to find my contacts, I ask the nearest officer experiencing a problem with is radio/light, "What's the problem?"

Keeper:
Cabot, the officer looks up. He taps the button again and shakes his head. "Hell if I know. Some kind of power surge or something. All the batteries went dead."

Cabot:
"When did this problem start, in relation to the hostilities?"

Cabot:
Did I notice any electrical problems with my car upon approach to the scene?

Keeper:
Lundquist, you have the same problem: you're in the middle of a briefing with DOJ in San Antonio (where TBC has its international headquarters), when the phone dies. The lights die. Everyone's flashlight dies. Then you suffer a brief, intense vertigo; so does everyone in sight in the building around you. That passes, but the power stays dead.

Keeper:
Cabot, no problems with your car, or your equipment.

Keeper:
The officer says, "Just happened a few minutes ago. Crap, I gotta get my radio replaced." He wanders off.

Cabot:
I wander the scene, lost in the other Feds and locals. Do I have any sense that there is anticipation of further hostilities in the building?

Keeper:
Cabot: No one knows much of anything. Word came down that about a dozen cops and federal agents are dead, and people are stunned. This is close to twenty NYPD officers who have vanished or died in the past week in two separate incidents.

Cabot:
I look for the incident command post.

Keeper:
Cabot, you find the CP easily enough; it's at the densest cluster of operations vans belonging to FBI, ATF, and NYPD/ESU.

Cabot:
I approach, flash my credentials. "SA Turner, HRT. Who's in charge here? I need a situation report ASAP!"

Keeper:
Cabot, you've found an ATF assitant supervisor, a short, stocky guy about thirty-five years old with a thick mustache. "You need Devereaux," he says, "FBI ASAC, anti-terrorism." He points vaguely toward a big FBI van.

Keeper:
Upstairs, Lundquist, you have been on the phone to Washington after Borrow and Kelley saw to the cut on your arm and Rogers' dislocated shoulder.

Keeper:
That was a couple of hours ago.

Keeper:
Things have gone well enough. Word spreads quick about the killings, and a lot of people want a piece of the action. Someone in the AGs office smells a chance to nail a big corporation while standing up for honest cops; others just want to hit back for all the deaths. NYPD is also working hard to make sure it stays in the loop.

Keeper:
Rogers, you are with Kelley and Danforth on the 15th floor. The floor is very dark, but for ambient light from office windows. Even the building generator has failed to kick in.

Rogers:
We were checking the rooms on this floor while waiting for one of the agents who came with us from the roof got some radios and batteries

Keeper:
Rogers, your man is still gone; it should be several minutes, at least, before you hear from him.

Rogers:
We'll carry on checking the rooms, there should be enough light from the windows yes?

Keeper:
In the offices, yes. The offices are like the outer ring of the building; a hallway makes a circuit as the next ring, then halls lead off from it inward to the reception atrium and elevators.

Keeper:
Borrow, you've just pulled the pistol from its holster. You are standing still, now, in utter darkness, without even a spark of light, listening to yourself breathe and your heart beat. A few seconds ago, you heard--you could have sworn you heard--the squeak of a shoe sole on the floor on the stairs below you.

Borrow:
Borrow will call out softly. "Hello?"

Keeper:
You hear your voice echo strangely in the stairwell. You're very conscious of the amount of space above and below; you hear nothing else, just empty darkness.

Borrow:
Borrow will start down the stairs slowly. The safety was off, and will use it kinda like a cane. One hand on handrail for support, the other hand holding gun out in front of him to gently prod darkness and not stumble into anything.

Keeper:
You take the next few stairs. Still, you hear nothing except your own footsteps, shuffling on the hard flooring.

Borrow:
Ok. I feel secure enough to start heading down the stairs alittle faster, trying to join up with the other team.

Lundquist:
"Shoot, my phone's dead too... Hey, where'd Borrow go?"

Keeper:
Lundquist, upstairs, one of the other agents hears you. "Borrow? That your crime scene guy? He said he was going downstairs to find your team."

Lundquist:
"Where is the rest of my team?"

Keeper:
Lundquist, your agent says, "Your team took the elevator a while ago. They were going to search the 15th floor."

Lundquist:
"Are the elevators still working too, or did they go with the power?"

Keeper:
"Everything's dead," says the agent.

Lundquist:
"Anybody got a working light? Or do I have to go down the stairs in the dark?"

Keeper:
The agent says: "We sent some people down for batteries a few minutes ago, sir."

Lundquist:
"Well, who knows how long that could take. I'm going down to 15. I gotta meet with my people. One of you want to come with me? I don't think we should have people moving around alone in here just yet."

Keeper:
Lundquist, the agent nods. "I'm SA Barton, Antiterrorism." He looks like he's about 27, very fresh-faced.

Lundquist:
"Okay, Barton, I'm Brian Lundquist. Let's go downstairs." I make my way to the stairwell.

Keeper:
Lundquist, you and Barton open the stair door and head inside. Barton props the door open. Even after a single floor, it's too dark to see much.

Lundquist:
"Maybe if we prop open every door as we go down it will help with the darkenss somewhat. But then again, that might be against fire codes..."

Keeper:
Barton laughs nervously.

Cabot:
I proceed to the van, knock, then enter in a decidedly calm fashion. "Turner, HRT Quantico. Where is ASAC Devereaux?"

Keeper:
Cabot, among the crowd of a dozen high-ranking agents that crowd the van and the support staff on the radios and electronics, you see a man in an FBI blazer look up as he's speaking on a phone. He's on the short side, thin, blonde, with wire-rimmed glasses, about forty. Still speaking animatedly on the phone, he waves you over.

Cabot:
I formally introduce myself. "Sorry I got here after the party started. What's your situation?"

Keeper:
Devereaux holds a hand up for you to wait as he finishes on the phone. "...Yes... Lundquist is running it from DOJ. When he gets down here, you ask him. I told you, see the briefing for everything we have on the perps and their equipment. Right." He hangs up.

Cabot:
"Look, I apologize if I'm interceding on your incident. But maybe I can help by providing a fresh assessment. Give me a sit-rep."

Keeper:
Cabot, Devereaux says, "You're from HRT? Well, I don't think we have any hostage situations to worry about, now."

Keeper:
Devereaux looks around until his eyes land on another agent. "Wilson," he says, "brief Agent Turner here."

Cabot:
"With all due respect, sir. Have all law enforcement elements that entered the building been accounted for? "

Keeper:
Cabot, Devereaux nods impatiently. "All elements are accounted for, Agent Turner, yes. Agent Wilson will brief you outside."

Cabot:
"Then how are all elements accounted for? You're telling me com's down, and you're calling this building cleared?"

Keeper:
Devereaux frowns angrily. "I'm telling you Agent Wilson will give you a briefing, Turner, while I reequip my god-damned task force and figure out what the hell just happened. Now, unless there's a hostage situation, talk to me in thirty minutes if you need anything else."

Cabot:
I exit and proceed to the ESU commander, maybe he'll be more receptive to taking his thumb out of his ass and doing something.

Keeper:
Cabot, NYPD has several ESU vans--they look like paramedic support trucks, big and square--across the area. After a few minutes you find a couple of officers who direct you to their captain.

Cabot:
I approach him with a purpose. "Hey, Captain. Turner, HRT. Look, I'm not getting alot of support from my team on this thing. I've got friends at stake in this. What the hell have you got here and what are we gonna do about it?"

Keeper:
Borrow, you come down around the next landing. It's still pitch black, of course; you still don't hear anything.

Borrow:
What floor am I on?

Keeper:
By your count you're at the twentieth floor.

Borrow:
I check my pockets for a lighter, or maybe try opening the landing door for alittle light.

Keeper:
As you check your pockets you smell something, very faint: it smells like aftershave.

Borrow:
Borrow wrinkles his nose. He doesn't wear aftershave, the minty cream is enough for him. "Hey? Someone down here? I'm trying to find my way out." It's about this time a idea hits him. "They took the helicopter pad. Is there another way out?" He interrogates darkness.

Keeper:
Your gun hand suddenly hurts, a lot; you feel it twist in entirely the wrong direction, fast and hard, and as you feel the bones are about to crack your pistol clatters to the floor and down the stairs. The pressure on your hand shifts, pulling your arm up and driving you down against the wall. This is all maybe a second.

Borrow:
Borrow will fills his second of action with much screaming.

Keeper:
As the pressure shoves you, face-first, against the cold cement wall, you a sharp pain in the base of your neck, the prick of a blade being pressed hard, but not quite hard enough to finish it: "Shut your fucking mouth, boy," hisses a man's voice, cold.

Borrow:
Borrow, who has often been the first to vocalize his opinions, decides to be quiet this time.

Keeper:
The blade of the knife stays firmly against your neck, digging just into the skin. The pain is constant in your neck and your hand and arm.

Borrow:
Borrow will lie still as possible, considering the pain he's in. Is the man atop him? With his knee in my back or something?

Keeper:
You're not quite prone; he shoved you against the wall and down to an uncomfortable position, not quite kneeling, while he keeps you arm twisted up painfully against your body.

Keeper:
Then you hear something from overhead: it sounds like footsteps on the stairs; and the quality of darkness changes from absolute black to deep grey. In the corner of your vision you make out a blacker mass, which must be your assailant.

Keeper:
"Fuck me," the man whispers. Borrow, you feel him lean in close. "You stay quiet, boy. We're taking this door out of these stairs. You make a noise, you even breath wrong, I rip out your fucking spine."

Borrow:
Borrow doesn't nod, least help the knife. He just keeps still, not making a noise.

Borrow:
Could I make out where the gun was in the dark grey?

Keeper:
You don't know where your gun is. It fell down the stairs.

Keeper:
The man lifts your arm slightly. "Up," he breathes. "You open this door when I move you to it. Remember: real quiet."

Borrow:
Ok, let me describe what I'm going to attempt to do.

Borrow:
After this door is opened, I'm going to open it only far enough for one to slip through. Once I get alittle way through, I'm going to plant my foot behind the door and try and push it back on the perp. Risky, but I hope to catch him before my spine is severed, and perferably slam my weight against the door.

Keeper:
Cabot, the captain shakes his head. He's about fifty years old and grey. "Fucking typical," he opines.

Cabot:
"Work with me, I'll work with you. Forget about my affiliations. Gimme what you've got."

Keeper:
The captain nods. "I'm Captain Lockyer, ESU," he says. "First we had a bomb threat called in here, then a bunch of feds went in with a search warrant. They went up top to stop a civilian helicopter from launching, and all hell broke out. Another aircraft came to pick up the perpetrators."

Keeper:
"We have four men down from small-arms fire, and another six from heavy machine gun fire, from this rescue chopper."

Cabot:
"I understand you have no com with elements left inside. How many do think are in there?"

Cabot:
"Let's work on the lights, that ups the chances for our guys inside. Can you provide a reinforced escort for a utility guy into the building to check the power to the building?"

Cabot:
"The next option is to have FDNY set up some scene lighting from the exterior. Do your ESU vans have scene lights? Anything is better than nothing for the guys inside."

Keeper:
Lockyer shakes his head. "The feds had forty-one agents in the building when the lights went down, and we had fifteen, mostly bomb squad and tactical. If they're smart, they'll hunker down and send people down to report and get equipped."

Keeper:
Lockyer nods. "That's smart. Yeah, we have lights on our support vans, plenty."

Keeper:
By the way, it's still daylight out; it's overcast, but visibility is good.

Cabot:
'Fuck, then it could be a hostage situation. Look, the SAC over there for the FBI is in over his head here. He's gonna be reactionary. Get moving on the lights and assemble two more tactical entry teams. Best guys you got. Give them flares to use for lighting. I'm not sure what's causing the electrical problems."

Keeper:
Rogers, you're still looking in offices. It takes several minutes to search even one, and the first few have been mundane. Just accounts records, business plans, presentation minutes, that sort of thing.

Rogers:
How many left on this floor?

Keeper:
There are about a dozen individual offices, plus several meeting and training rooms and storage closets.

Rogers:
"Kelly, let's finish this floor then go find Brian."

Keeper:
Borrow, you pull the door open, then you make your move: you kick the door back and lurch forward. You hear a satisfying "thump" as it hits the man's head; you twist out of his grasp, and you feel his grip, hard as iron, nearly break your hand before you whip it free...

Keeper:
Then you feel his knife drawing a long, deep, excrutiating slash across your neck as he shoves it forward and you pull away. Almost instantly, your torso is slick with blood. Then the pain hits as you stumble away from the door.

Keeper:
[Lose 6 HP]

Borrow:
Youch. I run straight away from the door, and attempt to pull off my jacket and stop blood flow. If every floor as some sort of standard layout on where the elevators and other stairs are, I'll be headed towards them. :P

Keeper:
Lundquist, below, in the stairwell, you hear strange noises: first there's a thumping or clicking noise, like a door opening or shutting, then a strangled, involuntary shout, then the creak of a heavy door being pulled open quickly.

Lundquist:
I begin hurrying downstairs to investigate, drawing my pistol as I go, holding the rail with my other hand.

Keeper:
Borrow, your vision is going blurry, and you feel faint. Behind you, the door opens again, fast. There's a little real light here, from a window a few yards away; after the darkness of the stairwell it's almost glaring. It's distracting. You see the man come in after you, holding his bloody knife.

Keeper:
He's big, a black man in a nice grey suit with his head shaved bald, with strong features twisted in anger.

Keeper:
He says something indistinct as he jogs toward you, then, "You slowed me down, you shit."

Rogers:
Can we hear any of this?

Keeper:
Rogers, nope.

Lundquist:
Can I look down and see where the door was opened, how many floors below me it is? Any light coming into the stairwell there?

Keeper:
Lundquist, you and Barton take the stairs quickly, rounding the first landing. "Sounded like it was down another level or two," Barton says.

Keeper:
Wherever the door was opened, it's closed again now.

Borrow:
Borrow will try and use whatever consciousness he has left to get him someplace safe. Perhaps an office door with a lock on it, or something that can put some time between him and myself if I should pass out.

Keeper:
Borrow, you can hardly feel your legs. You stumble fast across the carpeted hallway and against an office door. It's not locked; you shove it open and stumble inside., leaving blood smeared across door and floor.

Borrow:
Can I prop a chair up behind it? Something that won't take much time to bash down?

Keeper:
The doorknob has a simple push-button lock. There's a bookshelf, four feet high, next to the door. There's also a desk in the office; the only chairs are the rolling kind.

Borrow:
I'm reconsidering the locking it, since I'm going to need medical attention and don't want to slow them down too much. I guess I'll pull the bookshelf down and have all that weight block the door low.

Keeper:
You reach for the bookshelf and try to haul it over the door. As you're doing so, you feel yourself growing faint again. Then you're on the floor, with a dull, vague pain in your forehead where you must have hit the bookshelf as you fell. Things are very, very quiet. Almost peaceful.

Borrow:
Almost peaceful, except for the large man who wants to gut me. :P

Keeper:
The office door almost explodes inward, swinging in after a tremendous impact from the other side. The impact splinters the doorframe around the knob and sends the door careening into the wall.

Keeper:
The man steps in and looks down. You hear his voice echoing strangely. "Got no more time to play, sweet thing," he says.

Borrow:
Borrow cries for help like a frightened schoolgirl, if he still has his voice. Is there any way I can apply pressure to the cut to cut down on the blood loss?

Keeper:
Lundquist, you and Barton come around to the next landing. Then you hear a noise from the other side of the door; it sounds like a door being kicked in, hard.

Keeper:
And then, you catch Borrow's voice, weak, crying for help somewhere beyond the door.

Lundquist:
I open the door and go in, fast.

Keeper whispers to Rogers:
Rogers, you hear a gunshot, somewhere in the building above you.

Rogers:
"Kelly! Lets find that shot, you agents stay here and cover the doors if anyone comes through with out ID take no chances."

Rogers:
we're running up guns at the ready.

Keeper:
Kelley and Danforth look up, then they follow you at a hurry.

Cabot:
Can we hear gunfire from the exterior?

Keeper:
Cabot, you don't hear gunfire.

Keeper:
Borrow, you reach up to cover the long cut in your neck. Blood slips across your fingers as the man steps toward you and leans down, very fast, very gracefully.

Keeper:
Lundquist, as you open the door you step over a broad bloodstain that leads in smears and droplets across the carpeted floor of the hall to a nearby office door. Barton, following behind you, stumbles as he slips on the slick blood. The office door stands open, but you can't see inside without going nearer.

Borrow:
Since I'm on the ground, and bleeding, I'll just keep pressure and see what happens. I think I'm alittle too battered for any coherent thought, other than trying to slow the bleeding using any means possible, like the cloth from my shirt collar or jacket. I also make a mental note to take dance lessons so I can move like this guy if I make it through.

Lundquist:
"FEDERAL AGENTS! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP RIGHT NOW!"

Lundquist:
(Barton had better have his gun out...)

Keeper:
Borrow, you hardly feel it. It's just a sudden new impact in your chest, through your kevlar vest, and then it's hard to breathe, and the man's knife lifts away, even bloodier.

Lundquist:
I move towards the door, following the bloody mess.

Lundquist:
"Barton, hold that door open so the others will know what floor we're on. And cover me!"

Rogers whispers to Keeper:
maybe we should walk rather than run ;-)

Keeper:
Lundquist, you see a big black man come out the office door, fast, almost too fast to follow, barreling right at you and Barton as you tell at him.

Lundquist:
I shoot out his kneecaps.

Keeper whispers to Lundquist:
06! God, you lucky bastard!

Lundquist whispers to DGKeeper:
He ain't gonna walk too good with NO FUCKIN KNEES...!

Keeper:
A split second: the man comes out the door and is at you, then gunshots fire, Lundquist's .45, Barton's 9mm, then the man stumbles at Lundquist's feet as Lundquist's round hits him just above the knee.

Lundquist:
I don't stop shooting. Niether does Barton.

Keeper:
Barton follows the man down and fires again, putting a round into the man's face, and Lundquist puts a round to the side, harmlessly into the carpet; the man's face is an open ruin from Barton's hollow-point, but he twists up anyway and his blade whips past Lundquist's hand, missing by an inch.

Keeper:
His mouth moves nonsensically, making angry wet sounds.

Lundquist:
"Son of a bitch!" I take aim and shoot some more, trying to cripple him by taking out key bones, etc

Borrow:
Borrow coughs and sputters next door. :)

Keeper:
Barton shouts as well and fires fast, carelessly, sending bullets raining into the carpet and wall around the target. He's spooked.

Lundquist:
"BARTON! Get a hold of yourself!"

Keeper:
Lundquist fires again, misses, draws a better bead, fires and puts a round into the man's skull. The .45 round does not blow through, but his head lurches with the impact as it tears through his brain. He blinks and collapses.

Keeper:
Barton keeps firing, mostly missing, then the action on his gun sets as the last round fires, his magazine empty.

Lundquist:
Oh, yeah, like I trust this... I reload and shoot out both legs, then both elbows.

Keeper:
Rogers, you and Kelley and Danforth hear the gunfire from above. "Pistol fire," says Kelley. "Sounds like a 9mm and a .45. Want to lay odds that's Lundquist?"

Keeper:
Borrow, you're fading fast. You noticed a few seconds ago that your heart won't work. It's as simple as that.

Keeper:
Lundquist, you shoot the body up. He does not stir.

Lundquist:
I go past him, following the trail of blood. I keep my gun on him as I go.

Borrow:
*Grin* Gotcha. I just kinda go limp, eyelids aflutter before I black out. :)

Keeper:
Lundquist, you see Borrow on the floor in a wide pool of blood, lying still on his back. He's pale as a sheet. You see the end of a cut on the back of his neck, almost hidden by his blood-soaked collar, and a very prominent bloodstain and hole in his shirt, in the center of his chest.

Lundquist:
"Jesus!" I rush over and see if I can do anything. "BARTON! Get in here!"

Keeper:
Rogers, you and your companions come up on the twentieth floor. You see the scene: bloody trail, bloody corpse on the hall floor, stench of blood and cordite again, one of the rooftop agents standing there lokoing dazed. You hear Lundquist's shout.

Lundquist:
I put pressure on the chest wound and try to remember CPR class.

Cabot:
Now, do we hear sounds from the exterior?

Keeper:
Cabot, as you're talking with the ESU captain you hear a report on his radio. "Perimeter One, we have gunfire in the building, gunfire in the building, estimated twentieth floor."

Cabot:
"Showtime, Cap'n. You dance or you don't. What's it gonna be?"

Keeper:
Cabot, the ESU captain curses and gets on the radio. "Form up squads, two entry teams, twelve men each. We're securing this shit."

Cabot:
"Great, get all available resources, I don't give a shit if they're beat cops."

Cabot:
Have them form up out here. As ESU clears an avenue of egress out of that building, send them in to hold the line. Got it?"

Cabot:
"What about the power to the building?"

Keeper:
Cabot, Lockyer nods. "Affirmative." He relays the order to his lieutenants. One of them has the FBI on the phone. He takes it and starts arguing with Devereaux.

Cabot:
"Gimme the phone, dammit."

Cabot:
As I take the phone (if they give it to me), I wave Lockyer to proceed.

Rogers:
"Danforth watch the body here, come on Kelly."

Rogers:
we run to the Shouts.

Lundquist:
"MEDIC! MEDIC!!!"

Keeper:
Lundquist, you can hardly remember any of it, despite all the studies you've done over the years, everything you learned as a layman, which is more than many doctors. You shove Borrow's chest, and blood squirts around your hands.

Keeper:
Rogers and Kelley come around the door to the office.

Rogers:
I'm going to dive in and try and save Borrow.

Keeper:
Rogers, your shoulder gives you hell as you try CPR. Each depression is intense pain; after a couple, though, you check him. There's no pulse, not even a weak one.

Rogers:
can I shock him with main current?

Keeper:
"He's gone," Kelley says quietly.

Keeper:
Rogers, you could if there was power.

Lundquist:
"Fuck!" Lundquist kicks over the nearest chair.

Rogers:
"shit."

Keeper:
But even so, it looks like he took a knife wound to the heart. He would need immediate surgery to have even a prayer. And none of that's an option.

Rogers:
"Right let's tear this fucking place apart. Everyone stick together."

Rogers:
I close Borrow's eyes.

Rogers:
"Was that guy out there alone?"

Lundquist:
"How the hell should I know? I just came down to find you guys... And Borrow..."

Lundquist:
"What the fuck is the matter with this goddamn building?"

Keeper:
Lockyer passes the phone to Cabot and heads out to supervise his entry teams. Cabot, you get Devereaux on the phone. He's in mid-shout. "...to authenticate tactical plans through ATF and FBI, goddammit! How are we supposed to coordinate this shit when you pull this shit?!"

Cabot:
"Coordinate your head out our your ass out of your head, Devereaux. This is NYC and NYPD still has it's say in this op."

Cabot:
I cover the phone's microphone and tell the ESU captain to proceed with the op if he knows what's best for his men.

Keeper:
Cabot, Devereaux says, "NYPD has it's say, Turner, as long as they don't go off half-assed and without notification! Tell Lockyer to hold his teams in place until we verify his action!"

Keeper:
Cabot, Lockyer nods and smiles and moves out.

Cabot:
I turn to Lockuyer, "You have a go. Remember to use flares for lighting and have any warm body with a gun follow up behind them to keep the escape avenue open."

Cabot:
"And get some people on the building's electrical, NOW!"

Cabot:
To Devereaux, "Can't.... sir. .... having.... ation...problems." Hang up and turn the phone off.

Keeper:
Cabot, you hang up on Devereaux in mid-rant. Lockyer nods again as he straps his helmet into place. "We got people heading for the generators now to see what the hell is going on with it. I sent fresh radios to them a few minutes ago and they checked in, no problems."

Cabot:
"Great. Listen, boss. I'm gonna take heat for this, so don't fuck up, okay?"

Keeper:
Lockyer nods, Cabot. "Understood. Stay clean." He turns to move in.

Cabot:
When no one's around, I try one of the DG-secure numbers to my contacts.

Keeper:
Cabot, you get no answer from any of them.

Rogers:
"we can't run around this place aimlessly, lets look at these plans and see if there are alternate exits."

Lundquist:
"ESU would have those bottled up by now."

Keeper:
Kelley says, "Stay close, boys. I don't know what this piece of shit was doing still here, but he might not be the only one."

Rogers:
"Then where then hell was laughing boy out there going?"

Rogers:
"What is so important that he missed the helicopter and probalbly cut the power?"

Lundquist:
"What I want to know is if any more of these fuckers are still lurking around in here."

Rogers:
"Kelly, we'd better secure this floor now."

Lundquist:
"What floor is this?"

Keeper:
Kelley says, "Borrow wasn't just wandering the halls. He found him in the stairs. I bet this guy was trying to get out."

Keeper:
Danforth says, "This is the 20th floor."

Lundquist:
"We'd better alert all the perimiter people. Right away."

Lundquist:
"Maybe signal them visually, from a window?"

Rogers:
"No, we can't run down to them and back lets get to a window and shout to them."

Rogers:
"We'd best be carefull when sticking our heads out though, could be snipers there now."

Lundquist:
(Quietly, to Kelley, and Rogers, so Barton can't hear: "We also need to dissapear that body, fast, so that our people can cut this fucker open and see what made him tick.")

Rogers:
"Barton, see if you can get that window open and warn the people downstairs tell them where we are."

Lundquist:
"Break the glass, if you have to."

Rogers:
whispered to Kelly Danforth and Mr.L "We have to get all three bodies out of here."

Keeper:
Lundquist & Rogers, Barton says, "Yeah... yeah, I'll call word down. Jesus. Hey..." He squints at the dead man's body on the carpet. "What the hell's that?"

Lundquist:
Spin around, gun ready. "What?"

Keeper:
Barton is staring at the body.

Lundquist:
I put my gun on the body. What's it doing?

Keeper:
The body's not doing anything. But you can see in the wounds, especially the face, where Barton's shot tore it open and where your shot blew through: the wounds are oozing strangely and glistening.

Lundquist:
"Barton, get downstairs and get us some backup, right away! Go!"

Lundquist:
"There may be more of these guys around!"

Lundquist:
"Watch yourself!"

Keeper:
Barton looks up after a moment and nods. "Yeah. Yessir." He heads for the stairs.

Keeper:
Lundquist and Rogers, the wounds on the dead man continue to ooze and glisten. Some sort of strange slime seems to be coalescing around them. You see blood and flesh around the slime go grey.

Cabot:
I move to catch up with the entry teams, if I can. It's gonna get hot at the command post area soon.

Keeper:
Cabot, you catch up with Lockyer's entry team as it hunkers down, watching while the first team moves inside.

Cabot:
Okay, I observe their tactics. Are they using flares to illuminate their route?

Keeper:
They are, Cabot.

Keeper:
Cabot, you were following Lockyer's men in: they sent in flares and are going in squad-by-squad, by the numbers.

Cabot:
My only concern is that they resupply the flares as they proceed up so that they don't burn out on them.

Keeper:
Good point, Cabot. The entry teams also are carrying lights; it seems like only batteries and lights that were in the building at the time of the blackout were affected.

Rogers:
does the stuff over the wounds seem like the membrane stuff in the "flashlight"?

Keeper:
No, Rogers, it doesn't look like that.

Rogers:
Ok

Lundquist:
I snap some pictures of the wounds with my digital camera... Is this thing decomposing right before our eyes?

Keeper:
What's happening here is not membranous, like that was; that was like looking at a piece of an unknown organ. This is just indistinct matter, coalescing across the wounds. After a moment, the wound has gelled over with a transluscent and pasty tissue.

Rogers:
I'll try and get some samples, don't know how though

Keeper:
Lundquist, your hands are a little shaky as you take your photos.

Keeper:
It's not decomposing, Lundquist; more like it's healing.

Rogers:
"Mr. L, do you want to cuff this thing just in case?"

Keeper:
Rogers, how do you want to go about taking a sample?

Rogers:
I don't suppose I have my dovtor bag do I?

Lundquist:
"Fuck!" I cuff it right now, with every set of cuffs we have.

Lundquist:
"Kelley, find a fire ax, fast!"

Keeper:
No doctor bag, Rogers.

Keeper:
Kelley jogs down the hall. You hear glass break. He jogs back with a red-painted axe.

Rogers:
"Kelly, sen any first aid kits around here?, See if that FBI guy has some hand cuffs or those plastic writt ties."

Lundquist:
"Okay, now, uh, dismember this thing."

Rogers:
"Your not going to..."

Rogers:
"Hang on, we've got it down and weak lets at least try to capture it."

Keeper:
"The FBI guy's out of here," says Kelley. "We sent him downstairs." He looks at Lundquist, then at the corpse. He takes a breath and nods. "Aye, sir," he mutters. He steps in, but pauses when Rogers interrupts.

Lundquist:
"Screw that! These things eat glaziers like candy and this one killed Borrow! I don't intend to give it a chance! Cut it up, Kelley, or give me the axe!"

Rogers:
"No,"

Lundquist:
"Besides, my guess is, cutting off its arms and legs won't kill the thing."

Cabot:
The only other point I want to stress to the Captain is a ready-response team to immediately support any engagements by the entry teams.

Keeper:
Cabot, the captain says he ordered non-ESU officers to form up in reserve. Those that have tactical vests and shotguns have been told to bring them.

Cabot:
Great. Next stop, the EMS units staged at the scene. Are there any?

Keeper:
There are several of them. Ambulances already hauled off the dozen dead and one surviving wounded from the roof.

Cabot:
I gravitate toward the assembled EMS units.

Cabot:
Give me the name of the nearest hospital/trauma center they will transport any casualties to. I don't know that. If not, I ask a paramedic.

Keeper:
The nearest medical facility is hthe Medical Arts Center on 57th street, a few blocks from Rockefeller Center.

Keeper:
(Thank you, Hagstrom's Map Books!)

Cabot:
I approach the nearest medic unit and identify myself as a FBI SAC (flash a badge).

Cabot:
"I want all FBI casualties to be transported to the Med Arts Ctr. once they are evac'd from that building, understood?"

Keeper:
The EMS crews prove agreeable. They agree to direct FBI casualties to the Med. Arts Center.

Keeper:
Cabot, you see Lockyer's team head into the building in the wake of the first group.

Cabot:
I go back toward the entry point, being wary of any FBI personnel that might make me from the command post.

Keeper:
NYPD officers are hunkered down around the entry point, standing watch.

Cabot:
I approach, "How's it going?"

Keeper:
A lieutenant looks you over and nods. "Going smooth. No resistance yet. They're entering the third floor now."

Cabot:
Lay low at the front. "Any word on the power to the building?"

Keeper:
The lieutenant nods again. "A lot of the wiring got fused. They're trying to fix it up now, but they have to replace some circuitry."

Cabot:
"Great. Good job."

Rogers:
"Lets cuff it everywhere wrist and ankles and then suff the cuffs together, it won't be able to move."

Lundquist:
"Look, it's damn near unkillable. What are we gonna do when it snaps the chains on the cuffs and starts looking for a little payback?"

Keeper:
Kelley watches the corpse. You can see that its other wounds have likewise "healed," the strange tissue forming to bridge the gaps in flesh and bone. The skin around the wounds turns a dull grey color; some of it appears to become stiff.

Lundquist:
"Dammit Kelley, take its arms off NOW!"

Rogers:
"Ok but it's against my advice, shoot the fucker."

Keeper:
Kelley takes a breath and brings up the axe.

Keeper:
He swings hard. THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! The arm shows great resilience, but it finally comes off. Kelley shoves the body with the axe, pushing it into better position.

Rogers:
"Lets bag up the bits, any bin liners around here?"

Lundquist:
I start looking for containers, too. If there's a photocopier, somewhere, I look for the boxes that the paper comes in.

Keeper:
Kelley hammers away at the corpse. "Shit," he says. "This whole bastard's turning grey." He gets the other arm off.

Keeper:
Rogers and Lundquist, you collect some plastic garbage bags and cardboard boxes.

Rogers:
"Mr. L get some more photos."

Keeper:
Kelleys mutters, "Where's a--" THUNK! "--power saw when you--" THUNK! "--need one?" THUNK!

Lundquist:
I do so.

Rogers:
LOL

Lundquist:
"Come on, Kelley, use a little elbow grease."

Keeper:
Kelley says, "Why don't you--" THUNK! "--shut your skinny ass--" THUNK! --"up, Lundquist?" THUNK!

Rogers:
"Put some effort into your work, we have to write a report on you you know."

Lundquist:
"Sorry."

Keeper:
He gets the legs off, finally; the trunk and head lie there, separated from the limbs.

Rogers:
"Right lets put our best feet forward, left or right."

Keeper:
Kelley lowers the axe. He laughs.

Keeper:
"Just bought these shoes, too..."

Lundquist:
"I'll buy you a new pair."

Rogers:
"What size is that guy anyway?"

Rogers:
"That'll save buying a pair."

Keeper:
The corpse is dismembered, now.

Lundquist:
Good, let's keep it that way.

Keeper:
The transformation, so to speak, continues in each part of the corpse: the flesh goes grey and brittle, while the wounds seal over with glistening pale matter.

Rogers:
"I'm not explaining that to the coroner."

Rogers:
"Any luck with bags or boxes Kelly?"

Keeper:
Rogers, you and Lundquist already gathered boxes and plastic bags.

Lundquist:
We bag up the remains, trying not to touch the thing directly.

Rogers:
"Remember your plastic gloves gentlemen"

Keeper:
Lundquist and Rogers, the three of you bag up the limbs. You don't have any boxes big enough for the trunk and head.

Lundquist:
How about a trash can? Preferably with a lid?

Rogers:
"anyone want to try ventroliquism to get him past the security down there?"

Keeper:
Rogers, you saw a rolling janitor's cart with a trash can in the closet, where you got the bags.

Rogers:
on my way to get it

Keeper:
Rogers, you get the trash can and dump the dismembered remains inside.

Rogers:
"Right, we'd better try and find the teams that will be coming in because of the gunfire, Danforth can you get this stuff to the roof and to the helicopter and keep an eye on it all?"

Keeper:
Danforth says, "Get it upstairs? That's a long climb with no elevators."

Lundquist:
"Power will probably be restored shortly. Let's stash it somewhere where we can keep an eye on it and it won't be found by investigating authorities, then elevator it down later."