13- Quiller KGB by Adam Hall

Author:Adam Hall [Hall, Adam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780061005381
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 1989-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Page 103

There was a parking area with twenty or thirty vehicles in it, all of the same type standing in rows, the nearest one with a crest on it, City of Berlin, street maintenance department. I moved between them and then stopped and checked the environment for the last time to make certain.

Flying glass and I dropped flat.

14 : RUN

Headlamp.

The spotlight swept the ground, the vehicles. I didn't move, lay flat. I was in shadow.

The shot had gone into a headlamp close to where I'd been moving and there was blood on my face from the flying glass.

A rifle, nothing smaller; a long-distance shot that hadn't made any noise. He was using a silencer.

The tags had been called off and this was why. For the whole of the long afternoon they'd kept me in sight and waited for the right time and the right place, which was here, which was now.

The two attempts to kill me had been made on impulse, a chance taken on the wing in the hope of an easy kill and the kudos it would bring. But this had been the predetermined operation and now it had begun.

The smell of oil as I lay with my face close to the ground over a patch of crankcase droppings.

Very little sound; no traffic; there was no checkpoint here, nothing between Oberbaumbrucke to the north and Sonnen Allee to the south. A wash of reflected light came from the concrete sweep of the Wall itself but the rotating beam was infinitely more intense and the shadows between the vehicles in the parking area were black in contrast.

It wouldn't have been a single attempt. He would run through a whole ammunition-belt if he had to. He wouldn't have to; it would be a question of time, of number, the number of shots required.

He'd be in no hurry; he had from now until dawn. But he wouldn't of course be alone; there'd be others in the environment, stationed strategically so that I couldn't make a headlong run for it and with luck survive. I couldn't see them from where I lay. All I could see were wheels to the right of this position, dark rounded blobs below the vehicle that sheltered me. On my left there were the others in orderly rows, parked for the night. More of them were ahead of me, and beyond them the lights of a street. Behind me there was another street but I was cut off from that; the sniper was in that direction, posted on a height of some sort, in the window of a building or on a fire-escape. He would be comfortable; he would take his time.

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