Night of the Cobra: A Sniper Novel by Coughlin Jack & Davis Donald A

Author:Coughlin, Jack & Davis, Donald A. [Coughlin, Jack & Davis, Donald A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, War
ISBN: 9781466861916
Goodreads: 24701737
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2015-08-18T07:00:00+00:00

WEDNESDAY MORNING

The al Shabaab assassin Abdifatah Farah slept late at the motel in the crossroads spiral that twisted about near Albert Lea, Minnesota. But he awoke resolute and eager to go to work, to start his holy mission. Breakfast was cereal and milk and some fruit he had purchased the day before, and he made tea from hot water straight out of the faucet. He felt good and spiritually lifted, as if Allah was guiding him.

Farah wrapped the guns in the bed’s blanket, then pulled on his gloves, from which he had snipped off the fingertips. The deep pockets of the down-filled coat would keep his hands warm. Farah doubted that he would live through the day, but he had no intention of freezing to death.

The small SUV roared to life without so much as a groan when he turned the key. That was still another sign that God was with him. The heater had the interior toasty within a few minutes. He arranged the loaded weapons conveniently on the seat beside him. The cell phone had been broken apart and would be scattered from the window along the highway, where it would be hidden by snow and perhaps recovered in the slush next spring. Farah took a deep breath, exhaled, and set out to hunt along the highways.

The roads were not as bad as Abdifatah Farah had feared, and his Toyota RAV4 gripped the pavement with authority. Eighteen-wheelers and people in big cars and pickups went hurtling past, rocking his smaller vehicle. He let them go. Road rage was not on his agenda this morning.

There! A black Ford F150 with a plow mounted on the front was clearing the parking lot of a box store. The strong truck had scraped much of the snow into mounds along the edges of the lot and was methodically giving final scrapes to the lanes between. He worked alone. A few cars were already parked, and their occupants were inside the building.

Farah turned off the highway and drove into the lot toward the moving snowplow, lowering his window and waving his left arm for attention. The truck driver stopped directly beside him, and the driver also rolled down his window, although somewhat reluctant to let any warm air escape from the cab.

“They ain’t open yet, friend,” he said. The man wore a purple wool watch cap with a Vikings team insignia. “Doors open in about twenty minutes.”

Farah had the Glock in his right hand as he nodded in agreement with the man’s comment, then smoothly brought the weapon up and sighted it. He fired three times at the large target no more than four feet away. The truck driver was hit once in the shoulder and twice in the head and slumped back against the seat. The noise from the highway sucked up the gunfire.

Farah put the gun down on the seat, rolled up his window, and drove away. The truck remained where it was, as if the driver were taking a break from pushing the snow around.

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