Sniper's Moon by Carsten Stroud

Author:Carsten Stroud [Stroud, Carsten]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-81528-6
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2012-01-17T16:00:00+00:00

A half hour later they were watching as a couple of EMS paramedics strapped Arnie Sayles’s body onto a gurney. There was no special rush. Moxie and Pepsi and Charlie Boudreau stood back. Pulaski and the FBI man, Duffy, were talking to the Zone Commander and the Commanding Officer of the 17th. Pepsi was crying, huge in his SWAT fatigues and his flak jacket.

“What the fuck happened?” Butler’s voice was low and soft.

Moxie was looking at what was left of Arnie’s face. The black body bag was swallowing him up like a snake eating a rat. The EMS man tugged at the zipper and it closed over Arnie’s face.

After a time Moxie said, “We fucked up. We come out of the elevator, all jammed up in it. The doors are slow. Pepsi pitches the stun and it’s in the air and we see this guy kneeling there steady as a brick. He gets three rounds off, some big double-action piece. Maybe a Smith and Wesson.”

He stopped and took a long ragged breath.

“I felt something on the vest. Arnie goes down and back. I saw … I saw the back of his head coming apart. I pulled on this guy, but we’re all … tangled up. We shouldna tried to help Arnie. We should’ve gotten right out of the elevator … but we … choked. Then we go in. The hall’s narrow. The stun goes and I can’t think straight. Me and Pepsi and Charlie get more fire as we’re coming down the hall. We hit the floor and put out some shit. We have to come up the hall in overwatch. You know? Charlie puts out another stun. We get around into the main room there and the guy has killed the lights. Charlie takes out a target on the rug there. You saw him?”

They had. A huge baronial hall. Armor and a big marble fireplace. A man on his back in a litter of gold coins. His name was stitched into the pocket of his Pelham Bay overalls. Geltmann. His head was gone. Literally gone.

“Was it the same guy?”

Moxie thought about it.

“Could be. I thought the guy was bigger.”

Butler said, “One of the harness guys put three into some big guy down in the lobby. This guy have any impact marks?”

“He has a Kevlar Second Chance on. But Charlie messed him up pretty good. He did have a three-fifty-seven Smith on him. I guess we’ll have to see if the M.E. can get a decent slug out of … out of Arnie.”

“Yeah.”

“Anybody have a count? A target count?” asked Keogh.

Moxie shook his head.

“We had some guesses. We got two to bag. The guys have been all over the place. We even checked all the window ledges. Place is fucking huge. Lots of hidey-holes. If there’s somebody else on this job, he’s outa here. We got the chopper lighting up the roof. It’s a steep fucker, though.”

“Think he jumped for it?”

“I don’t know, Pat. If he did, he’s cherry Jell-O in some backyard down there.

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