The Grey Man: Payback by JL Curtis

Author:JL Curtis [Curtis, JL]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2014-09-30T04:00:00+00:00

The Shot

After eight hours of hard riding, they were just below the military crest of the ridge above Zapata’s compound. The last two hours had been nerve-wracking, trying to move as quietly as possible, and constantly scanning for possible guards/lookout posts. They hadn’t seen anyone, and now it was all about getting into the best position for the shot. The old man was belly down, glassing the compound when Francisco crawled up on his left. “Looks just like the picture, doesn’t it?”

The old man squirmed back a few feet, laser rangefinder in hand. “Yep, I just lased the back roof over the patio, it’s about eleven hundred yards. I think I need to get down and further right to get a good angle for the shot.” Pointing down to a small knob he continued, “Somewhere right around that knob would give me a decent sight line, and it’s probably three or four hundred yards closer. That way I can be damn sure I’m hitting the right guy.”

Francisco took the binoculars and methodically swept the area. “I count eleven guards, six outside and five on the walls or inside. We going to try to take any of them?”

Looking at the sun, and the weather moving in behind them, the old man replied, “Not planning on it. I think one maybe two shots and haul ass outta here in a couple of hours. I’m not really interested in anybody but Zapata, and I know we kill him, they’ll replace him, but I want to make sure the sumbitches think about what happened before they do.”

Francisco nodded. “Yeah, but I’m not sure Guilfoile or Harrington, or the ‘Yards are thinking that way. I think they want their pound of flesh too, and I know damn well I do!”

The old man looked over at Francisco. “I know what you’re saying, Francisco, but taking just one shot and trying to get out may be the only thing that keeps us alive. I didn’t plan this as a suicide mission.”

Easing back down the slope, the old man and Francisco got up and walked back to the rest of the group. Scratching out a diagram in the dirt, the old man laid out his plan and what he wanted to do. Guilfoile immediately protested: he didn’t want to be the horse holder, but Cronin convinced him he was the best option, and if he valued Dusty at all, he was probably the only one to hold them. The old man pointed to an overhang a few yards away. “It probably won’t hold all the horses, but if you get them nose in, and feed them, it should keep them calm for a little while. I want to do this shot and be out of here in a couple of hours.”

Grumbling, Guilfoile acquiesced. Meanwhile, Harrington and the ‘Yards were deep in a discussion in Degar about whom would go where and how. They had all snuck looks and considered it a target rich environment, and wanted to avenge

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