Nathan yanked his mark to the floor and rolled him onto his stomach. He grabbed the tape from Harv, set his gun down, and secured the guy’s hands behind his back with several loops of tape. He covered the man’s mouth with a six-inch strip and tossed the roll to Harv, who did the same to his man.

Within eight seconds of bursting through the door, both targets had been overwhelmed and immobilized. Just like old times, Nathan thought. “Check the rest of the house,” he whispered.

Harv disappeared down the hall and returned twenty seconds later. “Clear.”

“Okay, let’s get them situated.”

Harv grabbed a couple of chairs from the eating area. Nathan was hesitant to think of it as a dining room because these two didn’t dine, they merely ate, and from the look of things, didn’t get all of it into their mouths. He removed his night vision, turned it off, and reached into his pocket for the lens cap.

“NV off?” he asked.

Harv reached up, turned his unit off, and capped the lens. Harv took both NV visors outside and placed them the front porch. Nathan flipped a switch on the wall and a bare bulb on the ceiling came to life.

“Oh, man,” Nathan said. He hadn’t expected to see Wayne Manor, but this place belonged in a hall of shame museum. He’d seen the mess in shades of green through the scope, but in Technicolor the true nature of this pigsty took on a whole new dimension. The family-room table consisted of three bald tires stacked atop one another, capped off by half a sheet of painted plywood. Household trash was strewn everywhere. Beer bottles. Empty soup and chili cans. Milk cartons. Wadded paper towels. Apple cores. Peanut shells. Candy-bar wrappers. Half-eaten hot dogs and hamburgers. Microwave popcorn bags. Dirty dishes. Crusty silverware and girlie magazines. Clothes were thrown on every available surface. Shoes. Work boots. Socks. Soiled T-shirts. Old blue jeans. Mechanic’s overalls. Several cases of motor oil were sitting under the living-room window. Cleared paths through the clutter and filth connected the various rooms like worn trails on college campus lawns. And the smell: It was like a landfill in here. Nathan shook his head.

“You should see the bathroom,” Harv said. “I don’t know how people can live like this.”

“That’s just it, they don’t live. They survive.”

“I’ve never seen anything this disgusting before.”