"What did you find out, choir boy?" Higgins demanded.

Alexander looked uncomfortable for a moment. "The old man said that the man we're looking for lives three houses up. He's been holed up since the air strikes began, but as soon as night time falls, he's going to be on the move again."

"Which man are we talking about?" Higgins asked, pulling out the papers so he could look over the photos. Alexander pointed to the photo at the top of the list and Higgins smiled. "The big one, huh? We'd better call this in so we can take him from all sides. Singer! Call command and order air cover from a couple of gunships. Call the rest of the platoon over to take the front of the house and we'll circle around and go in the rear."

Singer got on the radio, calling in as directed. Within minutes, they could hear the boots of the other half of their unit as the troops ran up the street and took their positions in front of the terrorist's door. Higgins led his group silently down the alley and they positioned themselves around the back gate of the house. He motioned Stephen and Alexander to take the point, looked at his watch and held up three fingers. He slowly counted down to one and waved his men forward.

As one, the unit surged forward, bursting through the wooden gate into a small backyard. Chaos immediately ensued as they could hear the rest of the squad coming in through the front. Women, men and children streamed into the back, only to find their way blocked by more Americans. A few gunshots were fired from the rooftop and were immediately answered by a barrage of semi-automatic gunfire from below.

"Choir boys! Inside and clear the rooms!" Higgins commanded.

Stephen and Alexander jogged inside to join their comrades in searching the cramped rooms of the small house. They were directed to start upstairs and ascended the creaking stairs cautiously. The first room on the right proved to be empty after they had kicked the door in and swiftly scanned it. They moved slowly across the short hallway and tried the door opposite them. The door was locked and the two angels looked at each other.

"He's in there," whispered Alexander.

"I know," replied Stephen in equally low tones.

The looked at each other again and took a deep breath. As one, they moved, Stephen shooting off the door handle and Alexander tossing in a grenade designed to temporarily deafen and blind whoever was in the room. Down below, the rest of the platoon heard the blast and chuckled. "Sounds like they found someone up there, after all," one of them commented.

Upstairs, Stephen and Alexander burst into the room to find the lone occupant huddled behind a table that had been overturned. His eyes were squeezed shut and his hands were over his ears. "Stand up," Stephen roared in Arabic, "hands locked behind your head!" The man stood up calmly and raised his hands behind his head. As his arms came up, the suit coat he was wearing billowed out enough for the two soldiers to see the explosives that were crammed onto his body. Time slowed down as the only sound in the room was an ancient clock ticking. As Alexander turned to shout a warning to the soldiers below, the man shrugged his shoulders and extended his arms, pulling the wire that allowed the explosives to detonate.

"Bo--"

The explosion leveled the house, killing all occupants inside. The only survivor of the blast was Singer, who had been crouching just outside the back wall, trying to get through on his radio to call in air support. He was found an hour later partially buried under the rubble of the wall, his right shoulder broken and suffering from a severe concussion. He was able to supply details on the mission and investigators were later able to add supposition to flesh out the probabilities of what had happened.