One week later:

 Karachi, Pakistan

Deckard crouched next to the body of a dead Pakistani doctor.

His white jacket was stained red as blood leaked into a pool beneath him.  Ripping a few buttons on his shirt, Deckard could easily spot the entry wounds.  A veteran of countless firefights, he quickly identified them as being from 9mm bullets.  Two shots, each with impeccable round placement.  The shooter had used the doctor’s collar as a point of reference when aligning his sights.

Aim small, miss small.

The entry wounds were almost touching each other.

Leaving the corpse behind, he strode up the steps, taking them three at a time to the front door of the hospital.  The door had been locked so the shooters had used an explosive charge to breach and make entry into the structure.  Deckard had heard the detonation as he drove towards the hospital.  He was just a minute behind them.  One critical minute.

The door looked like it had been sliced in half.  They used a cutting charge, probably explosive cutting tape which used RDX explosive and a metal filament to blast through obstacles.  With the building’s exterior lights turned on, he saw a tangle of clear wire laying in a heap next to the door.  It was the remnants of the shock tube that had been used to detonate the cutting charge.