SCENT

June - The Breathless (6)

Three fingers. Two fingers. One finger.

The battering ram smashed into the door, sending it inside.

The first pair of SWAT officers burst in, bulletproof shields raised to defence. Another two, armed with assault carbines, followed their steps seconds later.

"PPD! Down on the ground!"

Splintered wood and dust. Drugs and medicine, alcohol antiseptics. Gun grease, gunpowder and kevlar fibres. Low-grade fast food, hot dogs and cheap burgers. Blood and disease soaked into gauze. Moist, unwashed clothes festering with mould.

Most importantly though, that smell. That inhuman metabolism fighting natural and synthetic poisons, pumping unknown secretions through arteries, discharging fatigue in the sweat as though it was a physical substance.

He'd been here.

More SWAT poured inside. I heard another lock break under a heavy blow, heavy boots booming on the wooden floor.

"PPD!" A scream echoed out of the flat. I tightened the grip on the submachine gun in my hands. Yet another door smashed open, more threatening screams.

"Clear!" The first shout came out of the flat.

"Clear!" another one joined.

"All clear!" The squad leader announced, relief mixing with frustration in his voice. We cursed under our breathes and went in.

"He was here, Dan. Not long ago," I said quietly. My partner unleashed a torrent of profanities.

"I told that idiot we needed to stake out."

I could only nod. Dan had advised a cautious, by-the-book approach from the start. We'd all agreed. All except for Harris, our formal squad leader. He'd demanded that we acted immediately. 'We can't take any chances', he'd said.

As though charging in wasn't a gamble.

Now we stood in an empty safehouse, completely compromised. Haste made waste, and when there were lives at stake, waste was inexcusable. Try telling that to your boss, though. Especially when he's panicked out of his mind.

"When did he leave?" Dan muttered through clenched teeth.

"I... Don't know. The smell is fresh. I don't think it was more than couple of hours. Four at best."

"That's one big gap."

"I'm sorry, Dan. I can't do miracles."

He let out a loud sigh. "Well, at least you found this place."

Technically, that wasn't true. I'd just managed to trace Kowalski's car, which let us discover he'd stolen another one. That, in turn, had led us to this squat. A bit of leg-work confirmed that indeed, a menacing guy matching his description had chased out all the homeless tenants. So I guess you could say that I played my part, even if I hardly deserved all the credit.

I wiped sweat off my brow. "We need to search this place fast. Maybe there's something that will tell us where he went."

"Looks like he didn't expect the raid. He didn't move out." Dan looked around with a wary gaze. "Rifles, pistols, ammo boxes-"

"We've found a stack of amphetamine next door." The SWAT leader joined the conversation. "Might be a dozen pounds or more, all stacked in bricks. Also, a morphine supply, all with a hospital marks. Looks like he's robbing drug stores now."

Dan nodded. "Anything else?"

"A reloading workshop. Looks like he was filling his own cases." The squad leader licked his lips. "And... Some six pounds of home-made explosives. He was making them right here."