A Necessary Hell (Harry Brown Thriller Book 2) by Nigel Price

Author:Nigel Price [Price, Nigel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2019-03-31T22:00:00+00:00

Twenty Seven

The gunshot was silent. The effect was not. There was a sound like a large slab of raw meat being slapped onto a kitchen worktop. The smack was matched by a grunt from the Colonel as if he had been punched hard in the midriff. Which he had been. Only not with a fist.

Harry was on his hands and knees, keeping below the level of the windowsill. He pulled out the Sphinx 3000. The Colonel’s body slumped towards the bath. With one hand, Harry caught hold of the running vest and yanked him onto the floor beside him. The bullet had drilled him neatly dead centre. There was no exit wound. So a low velocity weapon. Probably a silenced pistol. Harry pushed from his mind the thought that it had been meant for him. Without Ingrid’s accidental warning, he would now be slumped in the bath, his brains smashed inside his ruptured skull. And the Colonel would be a relieved and happy man.

Instead, Harry could see the life vanishing from his eyes. They blinked a couple of times, and briefly tried to focus on Harry’s face. There was no coming back from the place the Colonel was going. His bus had already left the station. The next moment there was a long deep sigh as breath rasped from the body. Colonel Franklin slipped away.

The red spot reappeared on the bathroom wall tiles. It moved to left and right as the firer angled for another shot, hoping Harry would do something stupid like stick his head out of the window to see who it was.

Crawling onto the upstairs landing, Harry found Ingrid curled against the wall. She held the Smith & Wesson in her lap. The muzzle was pointing at Harry. He reached out and gently moved it aside. Noticing that the safety catch was applied, he took the weapon and showed her how to make it ready, then cocked it too.

“There you go,” he said, making the tiny adjustment that meant the difference between life and death. “Just point and fire.”

He could see her struggling to hear him through the confusion and horror. “What was that you said in the car about grouping?”

“Well remembered.” He was impressed. “Don’t worry about that. Just aim for centre chest, the largest target area, and keep pulling the trigger. Okay?”

She nodded.

He scuttled into the next room, a spare bedroom with a window that looked out onto the rear of the house, same as the bathroom. He imagined the firer’s attention was still on the open bathroom window. There was no sign of the telltale red dot on the bedroom walls which seemed to confirm it, so he risked standing. Keeping well back from the window, he scanned the ground outside.

He saw him. The firer was not in the garden, but on the high ground that rose steeply at the back of the house. It had been an impressive shot for a pistol. Though it would have been even more so if he had hit the intended target and not his own man.

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