At exactly 11 PM, the officers in the unit gathered for the takedown of the Claptons, Lieutenant Hans and I were packed in a black police van. It was a big van, enough to carry the dead bodies and the arrested people too. We all wore black body suits, to blend in.
The file Kenny had given me contained the location of the drug ring. I'm surprised Chief Brown didn't ask me how I got the information about them. The Claptons drug ring was downtown, on the same road as the Bottle Grounds.
The Claptons had their base in a secluded area of the street, a place I wouldn't even spare a glance. Good choice, Claptons. As we approached the area, we went over the plan. We were to go in without force. A sneaky type of thing. The officers, led by Lieutenant Hans, were to take out the armed ones one by one, trying our best not to get noticed. The ones that aren't armed, which is highly improbable, would be stunned and arrested. The dead bodies and arrested ones would be moved over to the van.
I, on the other hand, was to be in stealth mode. I would have to arrest the head of the Claptons, Henry Clapton. He was in his early forties and quite husky. He had power and intelligence but was promiscuous. Each time I go to the Bottle Grounds, my eyes always caught sight of Clapton with a lady or two, the lady trying her best to grind against him and him smiling like a damn fool. Later, he would leave the bar, with the same lady or maybe another one. I was also supposed to cut the power in the building.
Once we were over the plan, we parked the van in a dark area of the street, where it could barely be seen. We all stepped out of the van, making sure to carry everything we needed and moving to our respective places. I grabbed my night goggles and observed the building first.
From my view, it seemed it was a two-storey building. The building was painted in a fairly dark colour. There was a balcony on the top floor, where Henry could be seen in a white robe, smoking a cigarette. There were guards outside the building and in front of the gate. They were all in white. White that would soon be stained with blood.
I walked around the building, my feet like feathers on the pavement. I went towards where the power supply would usually be. But to my utter disappointment, it wasn't there. Shit. Well, that's bad. I got in through the back door, surprised it wasn't unlocked. It was the kitchen and the lights were off. The kitchen smelled of rotten eggs and spoilt milk.
The smell of smoke hit my nose and no doubt someone was smoking a cigarette. Right here. Right now. I identified where the smell was coming from and walked towards that direction, grabbing my dagger.
I stabbed in a random direction, my hands searching for the person's mouth. I successfully covered the person's mouth, stabbing him repeatedly. I checked the person's pulse and found out the person was dead. I dragged the body outside and mentally patted myself.
I brought out my flashlight. The light was dim and I could barely see anything in there. I observed the kitchen and found the power supply. Why would you even put a power supply in a kitchen?
I brought out the tools I needed from my bag and put my hands to work. I heard some exclaims from some of the guards. The sound of footsteps increased gradually, I should have some time. I set up a rope for the incoming guards, so when they came, they trip and fall immediately. That would be my opportunity to fire them with my silent pistol.
The first guard ran over to the kitchen and fell over immediately. I shot when I heard the impact of the guard's fall. I had good aim, my father taught me well. Eventually, the last few guards didn't fall for the trap. They looked around the kitchen, probably looking for me, and I shot the first one in the stomach. A groan escaped his mouth and he fell over, clutching his stomach. One down, one to go.
The second guard ran over to his comrade and looked straight in my direction. I quickly hid and waited for a while before I came out a little again. I aimed for his head and saw that his gun was also out, aiming exactly at me. And it was as if time got slower.
I shot him, directly in the head and his aim faltered. Good, right? No, not good. His aim faltering doesn't mean he still didn't fire the gun at me. He shot my leg and a frustrated groan escaped from my mouth. I fell to the floor, my leg hurting like hell. Damn! I clutched the injury, applying pressure to it. I brought out a first aid kit from my bag, trying to make the wound manageable. Now, that being the only problem would have been good. However, I could still hear footsteps.
I crawled to the nearest cupboard, hiding in it. I could hear people saying, "Where the hell is he?" as the sound of footsteps could be heard from different places, searching for me in the kitchen. I had to devise a plan before they caught me. I wrapped a bandage around my leg, feeling better now. I relaxed my other senses and focused on hearing the footsteps. I heard it coming closer and grabbed five pocket knives, ready to throw them if they opened the cupboard.
The cupboard creaked open, and the guard bent down to look inside. I threw the pocket knives directly in his eyes, then grabbed my pistol and shot him. The guard exclaimed, "Damn!" before he fell to the floor, lifeless. The other guard came and I jumped on him, stabbing him repeatedly in his neck. The guard choked on his blood.
I walked with a limp, leaving the kitchen and going for my main target, Henry Clapton.