05 End Game by Diane Duane

Author:Diane Duane [Duane, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

22

BORDER CROSSING RUSSANGE, FRANCE

AMES smacked into the tree so hard that he was wrenched sideways and his rifle flew off his shoulder. He whipped his head as the weapon slid away and landed beside another tree a few meters away.

Before he could get up, Valentina and Gillespie were already back on their feet and running past him. He cursed, rose, and crawled on his hands and knees to scoop up his weapon.

He stood and headed farther down the embankment to where the women had dropped down to their bellies, along a rocky ledge with the water about ten feet below.

“Wait for him to come up,” said Valentina. “I have the first shot when he does.”

“No, I got it,” snapped Ames, hurrying up to the edge himself.

“I have it,” Valentina insisted. “Do not test me, little man… .”

Ten, twenty, almost thirty seconds passed… .

Ames impatiently stared through his scope, searching in vain across the dark waves dimly lit by the moon. The night scope lit up the darkness, but there was still some distortion coming off the water. Mist perhaps.

And then, sans any forewarning, Valentina launched a Cottonball.

Ames jerked his rifle left, toward the sound, and spotted Fisher in the water. The old man had come up to steal a lungful of air, and Valentina’s round hit him perfectly in the back of the head.

But that wasn’t how Ames would interpret it.

“You missed,” he said through his SVT. “Damn it, you missed!”

“No, I didn’t! He’s hit,” barked Valentina.

“No, he’s not!” Ames insisted, paving the way for what he’d do next… .

He tracked Fisher’s intended path, and he assumed that the man, clearly alerted to their presence, wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Fisher had taught Ames that water was cover, escape, and safety, and he’d also taught him to swim on his back and steal breaths so that only his mouth broke the surface, not his head. This was a basic escape-and-evasion technique often forgotten by operative in the heat of the moment.

Imagining Fisher doing just that, Ames zoomed in with his scope and spotted a faint outline in the water, the slightest disturbance across the waves.

Ames shuddered. He had him.

But now to set it up for the others.

“He’s getting away,” Ames cried. “But he’s submerged. The Cottonball’s no good. I have to stop him.”

With Kovac’s orders to kill Fisher echoing through his head, Ames took in a long breath and steadied his rifle. Fisher was shifting through his sights. Ames would not waste this opportunity. No way.

Was there any guilt? Even the faintest trace? No. It was just business. Time to put the old boy out of his misery. Fisher’s ghost would probably thank him for it.

Ames blinked and stared more intently through the scope. He took another deep breath, held it. Then he trained his crosshairs over the disturbance in the water.

Moment of truth. He was ready, with thirty 5.56-mm bullpup rounds at his disposal. The SC-20K’s bullpup design meant that the magazine and action were located behind the weapon’s trigger, allowing the rifle to have a longer barrel length relative to its size.

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