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I open the door to my unmarked patrol car. It?s a ninety-four black Pontiac Grand Prix. I climb into the drivers seat, close the door, buckle up, and start the car. The powerful V8 rumbles as the electronic starter ignites the gasoline and drives the pistons up and down. I rev the engine just because I like to hear that puppy purr. As the car warms up, my electronic equipment comes to life. There is a radar gun in the middle of my dash, a small on-board computer, and my radio. I pick up the mic and key the dispatcher. ?Sam-23 to dispatch.?
?Dispatch here, go ahead Sam-23.?
?Sam-23 en route to BCE place with regards to the 10-34?
?Understood Sam-23. Officers on the scene, code blue high incident.?
?10-4 dispatch. Sam-23 out.? And I put the mic back in its clip. I shift into drive and hit the gas. I turn left onto York street and head downtown. I turn on my lights and siren, and accelerate to one hundred and ten kilometers per hour. The speed limit is eighty. My name is John Stone. I?m a sergeant in the Metro Toronto police department. I?ve been dubbed the ?greatest SWAT member ever? to join the Metro PD. I don?t know why the entire force says this, I?ve only been on the team for a few months. And in that time we?ve only had four raids, and two hostage situations. The most I?ve done was take point in all situations and lead the team into a potentially dangerous situation. Of which, three men have gone into the hospital because shots were fired. Well, I only did what I was trained to do, I returned fire. I fired the least amount of shots I could to avoid hitting civilians. And you know what, the city gives me a medal for hitting every perpetrator with less than two shots each. But that doesn?t mean I?m the greatest. I?m just good at what I do. But hey, if the city wants to give me a medal, who am I to argue. Anyway, the call was another hostage situation. This time at BCE place, the headquarters of Bell Communication Enterprises Incorporated. The psychopaths who have taken the building are part of an international terrorist ring from Germany. InterPol has a file on these guys a meter thick. These punks have been busy. Why exactly they decided to hold a telephone company hostage is beyond me. But what really get me mad is the fact that my favorite restaurant, March?, is in BCE place. If these wackos have explosives and they decide to blow the restaurant, I will personally kill each and every one of them. I just hope that no civilians get hurt.
About ten minutes later, I reach the outskirts of downtown Toronto. Traffic pulls over to the curb lane as I shoot past them. The rest of the team should be there by now, if not very soon. I start to do a mental check-list of my gear in the trunk. Uzi machine gun, Kevlar vest, radio and voice box band, 9mm semi-automatic Glock 19, ammo clips times six (three for each gun), and jump suit. Which I already had on. I hope I don?t have to fire a shot, or get shot at. It?s been such a nice day today, and I would not like to have it ruined by getting shot at. As I approach BCE place, traffic starts to get thick. I still manage to get around it all, though. I guess the area has been sealed off. Good idea. I reach the roadblock, which is about a block and a half away from BCE place. The uniform officer sees my car and lets me in. I cross the line and accelerate towards my destination. Not too far ahead, I see the flashing blue lights of the other patrol cars. And as I get closer, I notice that the R.C.M.P. is here also. This is a major operation. I pull up on the curb twenty-five meters away from everybody else, shut the siren off, then the engine. I pop the trunk and jump out of the car. I run to the trunk, thrown on my vest, turn on my radio, put on the mic, shoulder my Uzi, and holster my Glock. All the while, my heart starts to beat faster and faster, it feels like its going to explode. My knees start to feel weak, and my hands start to sweat and shake. The adrenaline starts to kick in. I run over to the SWAT leader, Lieutenant Tom O?Malley. ?Late again, eh Stone ?!??
?Me? Late ? I have no idea what you are talking about, Sir. I?ve been here the whole time. You probably never noticed me. I think you?re getting? too old for this, Sir.?
?Ha ha. Very funny Stone. Shut up.? I grinned and O?Malley turned to the rest of the group. There were some unfamiliar faces among my fellow Metro boys. I guess they were Mounties. O?Malley began to explain the situation, ?OK, now that we?re all here,? He shot a quick look at me then turned back to the rest of the boys. ?As you know by now, we have a terrorist group holding about forty-five hostages. One of which is the CEO of Bell Communication, J?an Monty. The terrorists want 15 million dollars and transportation back to Germany. We have no intention of giving into these demands. The Prime Minister is aware of the situation and has authorized use of deadly force. That means us. But, we would like to take these bastards alive if at all possible.? I interrupt O?Malley, ?Sir, how many are there. Terrorists, I mean.?
?Good question. We?ve tapped the internal security cameras and counted twelve. All armed to the teeth. I?m talkin? grenades, M-16?s, AK-47?s, and even a mini-gun.? There were a couple of murmurs among the boys. ?These guys must have a real pole up there butts to pull something like this.? Said Michaelson, who was one of my guys. He usually followed right behind me.
?No kidding.? Replied O?Malley. ?So, to avoid the next first of July, we gonna do this real quite like. There?s a service tunnel under the Hockey Hall of Fame. Stone, you?ll take six guys and come up from there. Put silencers on your hand guns, but only shoot if it?s completely unavoidable. As for the rest of us, we?re gonna launch flash grenades inside once the basement is secure. Once those puppies blow, we storm the building and arrest, or drop the terrorists. Is that understood ???
?YES SIR !!!? Responds the group.
?Very well. Stone, take Michaelson, Graham, Stevenson, Jones, and Mackey and get going.?
?You got it boss.? I grabbed my men and headed to wards the TD building. We ran into the lobby and down the stairs to the concourse. At the entrance to the concourse, a TTC worker was waiting for us to open the stairway to the sub-basement leading to the Hall of Fame. I confronted the worker, ?C?mon man, we don?t have time to waste. Where?s the doorway ???
?Right this way officer.? Replied the worker. He did an about-face and took off running. My boys and I followed right on his heels. The door to the sub-basement was a minute away from where we entered the concourse. The door was a seamless portal in the wall with a lock imbedded in it. The worker stuck a key into the lock, turned it, and pulled the door open. We rushed in, and ran down the stairs. The worker shouted to us, ?Turn right and just follow the conduits !! You?ll pop right up under them !!? I took heed to the advice and I pressed down on my radio control. ?OK boys. Listen up. We?re gonna do this real quite like. We?re gonna circle under the egress, and climb out one by one. I?ll take point, and Michaelson will follow me. The rest of you follow in sequence. When we encounter the opposition, hold your fire. Zero body count unless absolutely unavoidable. We go into radio silence now.? I click off.
We reach the grating underneath the Hall. It?s about four feet above my head, so I signal Graham and Jones to give me a boost. The two men close in, and hoist me up to the grate. I push the grate up and peak out. Nobody. I signal the OK, and remove the grating and climb out. I crouch with my Uzi pointed out while Michaelson, Jones, Graham, Mackey, and Stevenson climb out and join formation. I hold up my hand and make a fist. Their eyes focus on it. I hold up two fingers and point left, then right. Mackey and Jones peel off right, Graham and Stevenson to the left. While Michaelson and I move straight ahead. We walk very slowly and very deliberately, being careful not to make any noise whatsoever. As we approach the main entrance to the Hall, I spy two guards. I quickly duck into a corner. Michaelson follows suit. I look over to him, and he looks back at me. I put a finger to my lips, he nods. I then put a hand over my mouth and make like I?m cuffing somebody. Michaelson nods again in compliance. I twitch my head in the guards? direction and start to move. The two of us sneak up behind our objectives, cup our hands over their mouths, drop them to the floor, knock them unconscious, and cuff them. Just then, Graham, Stevenson, Jones, and Mackey rejoin the myself and Michaelson. ?Mackey, report.?
?No resistance encountered, Sir.? Said Mackey in a deep Newfie voice.
?Very well.? I click my radio and contact O?Malley. ?Lieutenant, ground floor is secure. We?re all set down here.?
?Understood Stone. Get to the escalator, and wait for the flash grenades to go. That?s your signal to move.?
?Aye, Sir.? And I click off. I then look at each of the faces of my boys. They look right back at me waiting for the next set of orders. ?OK guys, this is it. Remember that there are civilians here. If these trigger-happy Germans start a firefight, make sure you double check your target before you start shootin?. Alright ??? The guys nod in response. ?OK, lets do this.? I turn and lead the group to the escalator.
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