The Fisherman by James Quinn

Author:James Quinn [Quinn, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Next Chapter

“It’s another motorcycle. He’s on us,” said Wolf over the comms.

“Get him off us,” ordered Lyth. They were on a schedule and he didn’t want this lone wolf motorcyclist tracking them to a secure safe house. No, he had to be dealt with once and for all.

The motorcyclist was whizzing in and out, trying to get close to the vehicles without being hit.

“The guy is tricky. Trying to ram him off the road will probably do us more damage than him. He’s just too fast on that bike. He’s like a water-bug that you can’t catch,” said Tanner.

“Use the EMP!” yelled Lyth down the radio.

“There’s a chance it will short out our vehicle, too, at this range,” replied Tanner.

“It’s worth the risk. The VIP vehicle is the priority. Swap vehicle positions,” said Lyth, once again keeping Pavel low and protected.

“Roger that,” said Jax over the comms.

The Audi increased speed, overtaking the Range Rover and leaving the backup vehicle as the tail-end Charlie, there to run interference. Jax reached into a secure lockbox in the back of the Range Rover. It was where the team kept all the usual kit; Advanced First Aid Kit, spare ammunition, surveillance gear and one or two specialist ‘toys’ that the Prism technical specialists had allocated them for this operation.

The Tactical Linear Electro-Magnetic Pulse device was roughly the size of a small video camcorder and when activated and targeted at a general area, it had the ability to ‘short-circuit’ the electronics on whatever device its laser rangefinder had in its sights. It was like a flash going off on a camera, except that instead of an image, it projected an electromagnetic pulse that ‘fried’ the electronics of whatever was in front of it.

Jax hit the power button on the side, heard the hum and then looked through the viewfinder to check that she had a full charge and that the 4K HD screen was working properly.

The motorcyclist was closing on them fast, he was riding one-handed, the other was holding a small machine-pistol and he was trying, and struggling, to steady his aim. He let off a short burst of fire but it went high. Jax rolled down the rear left-hand passenger window and got ready. Her timing had to be perfect on this; if she got it wrong, she could end up with a face full of 9mm.

“Doesn’t this fucker know that you can’t ride and shoot at the same time? It’s impossible. Fucking amateur!” complained Jax, who hated incompetence in the enemy much more than she hated them winning occasionally.

“Just get him off us ASAP in case he proves you wrong!” shouted Tanner.

“I need him closer to get into range…”

Another burst of fire. Nearer this time, it took out the wing mirror on the Range Rover.

“Do it now, Jax, hurry!” yelled Tanner.

“Almost there…”

“Jax, for God’s sake…”

She lined up the viewfinder, aligning it not on the rider but on the console of the motorcycle.

Another burst from the machine-pistol.

“Jax!”

She pressed the button and, through her peripheral vision, sensed rather than saw a brief flash of light illuminate the road in the darkness.

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