Alex immediately raised his binoculars and focused on the front door of the saloon. As he watched, the dark wooden door slowly eased open. “Team Two, this is Command,” he said firmly. “Hold position and do not engage until subject has been identified.”
“Roger that.”
The front door of the bar was half open when a stout, white-bearded man suddenly stepped out into view. Alex zoomed in on the unknown subject and groaned. “Jesus Christ… are you fucking kidding me?” he mumbled to himself, watching the subject through his binoculars. The man stood stiffly in the entryway of the saloon, seemingly oblivious to the two SOG teams in position nearby. Alex watched him for a few more seconds before speaking into his headset.
“All teams, be advised, we have a lone unidentified subject exiting through the front door of the target location. Subject is wearing sunglasses and a white beard.” He paused for a moment, dismayed by what he was about to say next. “Subject is also dressed in a Santa costume.”
“Command, be advised,” Team Two replied. “Subject’s also carrying a large duffel bag. Possibly an explosive device.”
The man suddenly stepped out onto the sidewalk and began walking west towards Alex in a slow, uneven gate.
“Command, subject is on the move,” the Team Two leader announced.
“Copy that,” Alex replied as he studied the man intently through his binoculars. Despite his ridiculous disguise, there was something strangely familiar about the man. Nevertheless, there was protocol to follow. Alex followed the subject’s movements for a few more seconds before acknowledging what he had to do next.
“Team Two, on my command, I want a non-lethal drop of the subject,” he said firmly into the radio. “I repeat– a non-lethal drop of the subject. Team One, hold your current position on the northwest corner until the subject is down.”
“Roger that.”
The man slowly continued west towards the intersection where the Team One SOG agents were concealed. When he finally reached the corner, Alex took a quick breath and spoke calmly into his headset.
“Okay, drop him.”
A moment later, Alex watched anxiously through his binoculars as the muted report of an assault rifle echoed down the street. At the same instant, their unidentified subject cried out in pain and fell forward onto the sidewalk, dropping the duffel bag that was slung over his shoulder.
“Team One, take him!”
As ordered, Alex’s Team One agents immediately rushed forward and pressed the wounded man hard against the concrete, securing his wrists in handcuffs before rolling him onto his back. They then grabbed his arms and quickly dragged him around the corner and out of view of the saloon. Through his headset, Alex could hear the man’s loud moans as he lay sprawled out on the sidewalk.
“Team One, report in,” he said impatiently.
“Command, subject is secured,” Team One replied.
“Weapons?”
“Negative, Command… no weapons on him. Be advised, we have not checked the bag the subject was carrying.”
“Roger that. Do not touch the bag,” Alex replied, his stare shifting from the saloon to the nearby corner where his team had the unknown man secured. “Any identification on the subject?”
“Negative, no formal identification,” the agent responded. “But there’s a note pinned to his chest under his coat.”
Alex furrowed his brow as he spoke into the radio. “What does it say?”
A long pause followed before the agent replied. “It appears to be a confession, sir.”
Alex glanced curiously at the entrance to the saloon. What the fuck are you up to? he wondered as he clicked on his microphone. “Alright. All teams, hold positions. Team Two, I’m coming to you.”
Alex holstered his gun and jogged quickly down the sidewalk towards Team Two. When he arrived at the corner, he moved cautiously around the large duffel bag still lying on the sidewalk before shaking his head at the strangeness of the scene. Kneeling next to their wounded Santa-masked subject, both agents looked up and gave him a brief nod.
“He’s unconscious,” the nearest agent said as Alex kneeled down beside him. “Probably passed out from the pain.”
Alex knelt down and quickly inspected the man’s leg. A steady of blood was oozing from the bullet’s exit wound a few inches above the knee, but nothing appeared immediately serious or life-threatening. He glanced at the man’s face. Even though he could barely see any features past the thick white beard and sunglasses, there was something oddly familiar about him.
“Where’s the note?” he demanded.