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PROLOGUE

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D PLUS THREE

LAS ANIMAS COUNTY, COLORADO

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IT WAS DETERMINED SOME years ago that 0300 was the ideal time to raid a home.

That was when normal people enjoyed their deepest sleep. They would be slower to wake. When they did wake, they'd be disoriented for a few crucial moments.

The assault transports, which looked like unmarked SWAT vans, rolled up on the gate at 0245. The gate was simply a cable hanging across the driveway, suspended from trees on either side. Hanging from the cable was a metal sign which read: "NO TRESSPASSING." An officer hopped down from the van, unhitched the cable and let it fall across the road, taking no small satisfaction that the sign would be run over by multiple vehicles momentarily. He jumped back into his seat and the small convoy rolled onto the rough snow-covered dirt drive.

The DomTer's house was a ways up the mountain from the road, and isolated enough that it made surprise more difficult than normal. The sound of engines straining to pull heavy vehicles up the steep drive could potentially give warning to the perps. Helicopters would be faster to put boots on the ground, but were even louder than their assault transports. Helicopters were also of limited availability, and in high demand these days. In any event, somebody high up had decreed this operation go in on wheels.

The assault transports and the supporting armored vehicle and communications van arrived at the end of the drive at 0303. Doors flew open and a full platoon of federal agents burst out of the transport to deploy.

It was supposed to be an especially cold winter this year, and up here it already was. Thick white clouds hung overhead, threatening more snow any time now. Their black uniforms stood out in stark contrast to the white landscape.

All was quiet. No lights were on. Good—likely the perp was still asleep or only just stirring—if he heard the truck engines at all. Either way, there was nothing he could do now that wasn't suicidal.

Satellite imagery of this property hadn't been a terrific help, as the buildings were well-camouflaged. It took a few confused moments for the agents to locate the house—a dome-shaped structure back in the trees.

Funny though—no sign of the dogs. They'd been worried that shooting them would also tip off the perp prematurely, but that seemed to be a non-issue. Everything was working out in their favor today.

The breech team went forward, bristling with weapons, explosives, armor and night vision devices. The blocking team circled around to close off any escape routes in back. The other teams dispersed to search the barn, sheds, and the rest of the property. The breach team leader got confirmation via his radio headset that the blocking force was in place. His team stacked on the front door, primed and chomping at the bit. The ram was passed forward.

"Go!"

The two agents closest to the door swung the ram back, then forward with all their strength, at the door.

The door didn't give way, but they never had a chance to wonder why, or batter at it a second time.

From a distance the explosions didn't seem that impressive. There was no fireball, and though the blasts all occurred simultaneously, the report was loud but not ear-splitting.

Up where the breach team stood, however, it was hell on Earth for a split second that would alter their lives permanently...and end some of them.

Big bore armor-piercing rounds tore through them from the front, sheering the bone of one agent's arm, passing between armored sections of another and punching through his torso. But the worst of it was underneath them.

The very ground they stood on erupted. White-hot shrapnel streaked upward all over the kill zone. It ripped through boot soles and feet, through legs, buttocks, and at angles through their bodies, blowing tunnels through vital organs allegedly protected by their state-of-the-art body armor.

Other blasts sounded around the property as agents evidently stepped on mines or tripped booby-traps.

The commander, sitting in the passenger seat of the communication van, surveyed the scene in wide-eyed horror. "Ambush!" he cried. "It's an ambush!"