Kill Shot by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2011-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Minneapolis, Minnesota

Bolan grabbed his war bag from the vehicle and ran toward the ambush site, the female operative hot on his heels. They ran through the shadows along the wall of the building that stood between them and their ambusher or ambushers. Bolan thought the hide looked too small for more than one shooter, but he mentally prepared for more.

He glanced around the building and saw that the machine-gun barrel no longer protruded from under the garbage Dumpster. When he determined there was no sign of movement, he ran for the bin, the barrel of his Desert Eagle leading the way. Not that he expected to be fired upon. The shooter would be thinking from the position of offense and thus expecting his target to be thinking defensively, but Bolan had long ago learned that the best defense was often offensive action. If the shooter’s goal had been to kill Bolan, he—or she—would have come after them to confirm the kill, but the goal had clearly been to end the soldier’s pursuit of the original sniper. The machine gunner had clearly accomplished that task, which meant that the next logical action the shooter would take would be to clear out as fast as possible.

And that’s exactly what had happened. The only avenue for an unseen escape was down a narrow alley that ran between two buildings almost directly behind the overturned garbage Dumpster. Bolan glanced around the corner and saw a figure at the far end of the alley throwing what had to have been the machine gun into the box of a pickup. The soldier aimed his Desert Eagle at the figure and squeezed off a round. He hit his target. The powerful .50-caliber bullet knocked the man to the ground, but before Bolan could get off another shot someone fired back at him from inside the pickup.

Bolan ducked behind the building on the left side of the alley while the shooter in the pickup fired off several more rounds. When the shooting stopped, the soldier’s new partner popped out from behind him and emptied her Glock at the vehicle. Bolan could hear the thumps of her rounds hitting the sheet metal of the pickup’s bodywork. When her gun locked open she dived back behind the cover of the wall. “I hit both tires on this side of the vehicle,” she said. “Now what?”

“I’m open to suggestions,” Bolan said.

“Where does that alley lead?” she asked.

Bolan had already pulled out his handheld computer and pulled up a live satellite feed of the scene. “It takes a ninety-degree turn to the west and then ends at North Fourth Street.”

“Let’s head them off,” the woman said, taking off toward North Fourth Street before Bolan had a chance to respond. Somehow she’d produced a fresh magazine for her Glock.

The two rounded the corner just as the pockmarked truck emerged from the alley. Bolan fired two rounds from his Desert Eagle and the windshield shattered right about where the driver’s head had been. The truck veered up onto the sidewalk and crashed into a glass storefront.

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