Operation Homefront: Smoke and Light Charcharadon's Fuchikoma was sitting atop one of the buildings in down town Des Moines, where it and he had been racing about for the past several hours. Through extensive quartering of every single city block, he and the remainder of his team had narrowed down the location of the array element to one building: a bank. As he sat there thinking about it, Charcharadon figured that was as good a place as any to stick such an item. Pay enough cash for a large enough safe deposit box and who would care what you stuck in it? Plus the element would be secured without having to waste personnel on guarding it. Pretty devious for a bunch of sponges.... "Sir," came Davis's voice over the comm, "everyone is ready around back, and we have the van you called for." "Good. Did you cut their phone lines like I said?" Charcharadon asked. "Right when you said so, they aren't calling anyone." "Fine. Tell the others I'm on my way, and you and Fuchikoma keep us covered, in case we have to depart in a hurry." "Will do." Charcharadon opened the top hatch of the Fuchikoma and dived over the side of the building, reaching the ground safely thanks to his zip harness. A quick motion freed him from it, and the harness quickly vanished into the optical camouflage of the Fuchikoma unit. Charcharadon vanished into the passenger side of a large, official-looking sedan, which immediately pulled out of the alleyway and hurtled towards the bank. With a squeal of tires, the car came to a stop directly in front of the bank and both doors flew open. Charcharadon, sunglasses firmly in place, clothes with that I'm-too-busy-to-worry-about-appearance look to them, dashed towards the revolving glass door as his driver vaulted the hood of the car and followed. The surprised faces of patrons stared at them from the lobby as a slightly burly security guard moved to intercept them. "Now just hold on a..." the guard began, hand straying to his holstฺer. Charcharadon moved toward him with his hands in a neutral, non-threatening position. "Sorry to put you all on edge like this. Dixon Ticonderoga, FBI Domestic Terrorism, Section 4." He briefly flashed a picture ID at the guard, keeping his tone authoritative and insistent, never allowing the guard too much time to think. "We have received a bomb threat regarding this building and we need to evacuate it right now. I suggest you start moving these people out of here as quickly and quietly as you can. You might want to use the side door." "But I don.." "Yes, yes, I quite understand, but we don't have time for that right now. They've cut the phone lines, you know. Excuse me people," Charcharadon said, raising his voice for everyone to hear. "Apparently the utility company is having some trouble with one of their natural gas valves and they want this building evacuated as a precaution. Nothing to worry about, just a routine sort of job but safety first and all that. Please follow Mr.," he glanced at the guard's name tag, "Sibbeck and he will usher you to the nearest exit. Nothing to worry about, please gather your personal belongings. Don't be alarmed. Yes, right this way. Oh, here ma'am, you dropped your purse. No problem at all." Charcharadon turned back to Sibbeck and lowered his voice confidentially. "This may be a bit touch and go, best see that you get these people far enough away that nobody gets hurt. I get paid to risk getting reduced to chunky salsa but these are paying customers. Wouldn't want you to lose their business, oh no. The bomb squad should be here any minute now," he glanced at his watch just as another squeal of tires announced the arrival of the van. As Charcharadon kept up an unrelenting stream of patter and orders, three more members of his team charged out of the van and into the building, all toting some impressive looking equipment with them. Sibbeck, in order to escape the gale-force wind directed at him, detailed a couple of his guards to make sure that the customers and employees got safely away. Then, after a couple tries, he managed to catch Charcharadon as he was taking a breath for long enough to ask, "Is it all right if my friend and I stay to keep an eye on things?" He indicated the one remaining guard. "Well, it's your funeral if this whole thing goes pop. No one going to benefit from your life insurance too much I hope." Charcharadon and his team were going over the entire place with some mine-detector looking devices which had been calibrated based on the sketchy array data which had reached them so far. They swept rapidly through the bank, covering floor, walls, the potted silk plants, all the counters and desks, finally arriving at the safe. Two of the team went in, and within seconds, one of them was calling out, "The sneaky bastards have put it in a safe deposit box!" Figures, thought Charcharadon. He felt, rather than heard, the two guards beginning to draw their guns. Charcharadon shot his elbow back hard, connecting with Sibbeck's solar plexus and knocking the wind out of him. As the guard doubled over, gasping for breath, Charcharadon smashed down on the man's neck, laying him out unconscious. A few paces away, the other guard was lying on the floor, moaning, due to the after effects of a scanner being applied to his groin at high velocity. "Well, I guess this saves me having to explain away running off with a live bomb," Charcharadon mused. "Take these two along for questioning, they obviously knew something of what was going on. And pull the records for that box, including signatures." The safe deposit box was pried open, revealing the array element. It was carefully removed and carried out to the van, as everyone had heard what the first element had done when mishandled. Copies of the pertinent bank records were made, the security tapes were properly corrupted, the two incapacitated guards were hauled away, and Charcharadon and his team vanished as quickly as they had come. To be continued in "The Hot Seat"...