Tom Clancy Target Acquired by Don Bentley

Author:Don Bentley [Bentley, Don]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller
ISBN: 9780593188132
Google: P3AtEAAAQBAJ
Amazon: B08JKL7Z8S
Goodreads: 55502858
Publisher: G.P. Putnam's Sons
Published: 2021-06-15T05:00:00+00:00

36

Jack instinctively dropped to the ground, trying to ignore the familiar buzzing sound of inbound rounds in favor of locating the shooters. The concrete jungle formed by the stadium played hell with the rifles’ acoustics, and the retorts echoed from seemingly everywhere. Even on flat, unobstructed terrain a sniper was hard to locate by sound alone. Then Jack saw flashes to his left, solving the mystery of where the attackers were hiding.

That was the good news.

The bad news was that the shooters had picked a perfect place to trigger an ambush—a parking lot about one hundred meters northeast of the stadium’s entrance. Jack recalled eyeing the spot during the rushed pre-mission briefing. Satellite imagery showed a series of knee-high concrete barriers to funnel traffic. Now Jack had a feeling those same structures were being put to good use by his unseen attackers.

A series of groans to his left demanded Jack’s attention, announcing the rest of the bad news. At least three members of the team were on the ground, unmoving. Dudu and the surviving commandos were returning fire with their Uzis in short, controlled bursts, but Jack knew they were effectively spitting into the wind.

An Uzi fired a nine-millimeter pistol round—deadly for up-close work, but just short of useless for any engagement beyond about fifty yards. Not to mention that since the shooters had initiated in darkness, their rifles must be equipped with thermal or low-light sights. Not only were Jack and his teams sitting ducks, but they were outmanned, outgunned, and blind to boot. If something didn’t shift the engagement in their favor, this was going to be the most one-sided battle since Custer’s.

Another commando spun and fell to the ground, his Uzi slipping from his fingers.

Vaulting to his feet, Jack scooped up the wounded man’s Uzi and fired a burst toward the snipers while sprinting toward the still-waiting ambulance. Like everyone else near the kill zone, the ambulance’s driver was doing his best to become one with the dirty concrete. But unlike the commandos, the Mossad asset wasn’t directly in the line of fire, thanks to the hulking ambulance.

And that gave Jack an idea.

The Uzi’s magazine ran dry just as Jack reached the ambulance, and he dropped the machine pistol. He’d been under no illusions about his ability to place accurate fire on his attackers, but that hadn’t been his goal.

The snipers probably thought that a lone gunman firing his Uzi while running was no danger to them, but thinking wasn’t the same as knowing. Especially when the three-inch tongue of fire blossoming from the Uzi’s barrel was getting ever closer. In a gunfight, sometimes violence of action really did trump superior firepower.

And sometimes, you just got lucky.

Right about now, Jack wasn’t real choosy about which was which. He was just happy to have reached the ambulance alive. A sentiment the Mossad asset didn’t seem to share.

“Get in,” Jack screamed, pointing at the ambulance.

If he spoke English, the prostrate man wasn’t acting like it. Instead, he waved his

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