Blood Feud: a gripping espionage-revenge thriller (The Stirling Hunt Thriller Series Book 1) by Stewart Clyde

Author:Stewart Clyde [Clyde, Stewart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hunt Press
Published: 2020-04-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The Mediterranean Sea

Helios drifted somewhere between the island of Cyprus and the Lebanese coast. A cool sea breeze lingered over the Palmer Johnson Tri-deck. Scorpion lounged in shorts and open shirt on the top deck, while Dimitri in his suit, looked out to sea with powerful binoculars. Scorpion’s mobile phone buzzed on the glass table and he picked it up.

“Da,” he said.

“Boss, Sultan.”

Scorpion grinned at the high pitched voice that came out of the receiver. Sultan was one of his most junior Capos, and he was slight, but even Scorpion was impressed by the Avtoritet’s hunger for chaos and destruction.

“Speak.”

“We have the boy from Africa. The white African.”

“Which one?

“Fat one.”

“Where is the English?”

“We don’t know, Scorpion. Only the fat man arrived.”

“And the stone?”

“We will find it and take care of it.”

“Tell me when you have it, and don’t kill him. Yet ... I may need him.”

“What if he won’t talk, chief?”

Dimitri turned to face Scorpion and broke into the conversation.

“There! Boss, I see them,” Dimitri said and pointed out to sea.

“Hold on, Sultan,” he took the phone away from his ear. “What?” He said looking at Dimitri.

“The dinghies, boss. I see them out to sea.”

Scorpion put the phone on the table and grabbed the binoculars.

“Where?”

Dimitri extended an arm out to sea and talked him on to where he’d seen them. Scorpion looked through the lenses and twisted and adjusted them until he saw the blip of orange of an inflatable raft bobbing in and out of sight. It was filled with dishevelled looking Somali and Iraqi refugees.

“I see them,” he said. “How about a bit of target practice, eh? Give me the Dragunov.”

Dimitri didn’t move. Scorpion’s face hardened and Dimitri went off to find the sniper rifle. He returned and handed it to his boss.

“You look concerned Dimitri?” Scorpion checked the chamber and cocked the rifle. “Don’t be. I will show you.”

Scorpion rested the rifle on the railing and looked through the sight. The dinghy rose and fell with the swell in the graticule.

“Just like shooting ducks on a lake,” Scorpion said out the corner of his mouth.

Dimitri looked through the binoculars. Scorpion saw a second dinghy off to the left.

“You see the second, Dimitri? You see it?”

“Yes, boss.”

“That’s ours.”

Scorpion aimed. He could see the fearful faces of the migrants as they rowed and drifted ever nearer, edging closer to salvation and a new life.

Crack. The rifle kicked and gave a deep thud as Scorpion fired. He saw the round kick up a splash and land short.

Crack. He fired again. Short again, and confusion on the faces in the scope. They looked around nervously.

Crack. The shot snapped over their heads and panic set in on the crowded raft. People at the front pushed back and tried to get away from the water.

Crack-crack-crack. Scorpion fired the semi-automatic and laughed like a madman. Bullets pressed into the rubber dinghy and sections of it popped like a balloon. The people in the sight’s graticule screamed silently and scrambled. The clawed at each other to get away from the front of the dinghy and two fell in the sea.

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