Sound of Her Warrior Heart by M. L. Buchman

Author:M. L. Buchman [Buchman, M. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Buchman Bookworks, Inc.

Chapter 7

Katrina awaited her moment. She was slouched in the front seat of the Yak-18. It smelled of old pilot sweat, gasoline, and sausages. At the moment she was not appreciating her heightened awareness of her sense of smell since going deaf.

Tomas—presently in the pilot’s seat behind her—had inspected and prepped the plane, encouraged at finding the gas tanks full. Then they’d nudged the tail around until she had a perfect shot through the partially open canopy. There would be no sign of where the shot had come from. No one would look in the middle of the airfield. And if someone did, Tomas was confident he could get the plane moving quickly.

The meeting happened as planned. At noon, a brand-new Kamov Ka-62 Executive transport helicopter flew in and landed exactly where expected. It was met within minutes by two cars that had swept in through the front gate.

Tomas knew that if he needed her attention, he could thump a fist on the side of the airframe from his position in the rear pilot’s seat well behind her. But for now, her attention was narrowing. It was Tomas’ job to make sure that she stayed safe. It was her job to erase the man who had set a trap for her and betrayed his prime minister.

She couldn’t kill the Moldovan general outright, or they’d know there was a sniper on the field, but she had a plan.

First to emerge were a half-dozen guards from either side. Then the two generals climbed out of their respective craft at the same moment and approached each other. A Transnistrian official, also resplendent in his uniform, accompanied the Moldovan. It was too perfect.

The guards formed a wide circle facing outwards, thankfully none quite facing their aircraft—even with the flash suppressor, her shot would not be invisible.

The windsock was rippling hard, ten mile-an-hour crosswind, gusting to twenty. Thankfully, she had fired a few thousand rounds of the 5.45mm ammunition at the Fort Bragg firing range to familiarize herself with its flight characteristics—the wind was going to drag this round a long way sideways in three hundred meters. It would make her shot look as if it was coming from well to the west of their current position if someone noticed the angle of attack.

The two generals approached one another, with the Moldovan facing her but not yet blocked by the Russian.

Three shots. If she was shooting as a Delta, she’d use four, but the Russians fought differently.

When they were two steps apart, she fired a single round into the Moldovan general’s heart. Delta would have placed two there.

On her next heartbeat—in his face. It caught him before he was over the surprise of the first shot.

For the last shot, she picked a Russian guard standing behind the Russian general and put a round through the meat of his thigh.

At his scream, the Russian general yanked out his sidearm as he spun. He then shot the first Transnistrian guard he spotted. In moments, all of the Transnitrian locals were gunned down—including the high-ranking official.

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