Hunter’s strategy was to take care of Nigel before he appeared in court. Based on the court documents he was able to exfiltrate, the prisoner would be transported to the courthouse via a waiting vehicle in the back alley. The perfect spot for an ambush.
Hunter walked the length of the alleyway. There were no potential hiding spots even remotely close to the back door of the police station. However, there was a dumpster behind the hardware store five hundred feet away from the door. That would have to do.
The dumpster provided good cover. Hunter waited there in an oversized appliance box in a coat that he purchased from an actual homeless person for $20 and a bottle of cheap wine. After rubbing some dirt on his face, he looked like any other homeless man in America.
Hunter heard a car turning the corner toward the police precinct. Time to move.
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He rounded the corner just as the precinct door opened. Nigel Watson appeared in a full suit, accompanied by his attorney and a uniformed police officer. Another officer waited in the car.
Hunter quickly pulled out an object the size of a tennis ball and hurled it toward the vehicle. There was a loud banging noise, followed by a puff of smoke. Hunter pulled small knives from his coat and threw several in quick succession. The officer escorting Nigel took a knife in the throat, and blood gushed out. The officer stumbled, withdrew the knife, dropped to his knees, then slumped over.
Nigel dropped to the ground—he felt a sharp pain in his right bicep. A small knife was embedded in the muscle. Another knife penetrated his left side with an explosion of pain. Nigel screamed as the pain washed over him. It felt worse than anything he had ever experienced, even more than the bullet graze. Beside the police car, a man appeared with knives in each hand, several smaller knives in his belt. Lying at his feet was the officer from the car and his attorney. He had no idea if either one was alive.
There was blood everywhere.