Tank took another picture. “Uploading.”
She looked through the binos in the opposite direction. “I’ve got a two-door pulling into the shopping center east of the restaurant.”
Tank whipped around. “A woman and two children. They’re heading into the Mexican restaurant.”
Sydney eyed the man with the limp. “He’s walking toward the restaurant. I need more eyes on him.”
Tank tapped his comm. “King Cobra, we need an assist.”
No response from Greystone.
“He’s in the restaurant parking lot, and he stopped between two ALPHA vehicles,” Sydney said.
BING!
“IDware came back with a match,” Tank said. “It’s Farheem Carinjam, third cousin of Muhammad Haqazzii.”
Here we go.
Sydney’s inhaled slowly, placed her eye against the lens. Using the scope, she centered her target in the crosshairs, moved her finger to the trigger, released the breath.
The confirmed terrorist walked toward the door, extracted a long rifle from his pant leg.
Sydney pressed the trigger, rapid fire, four times in succession.
POP-POP-POP-POP!
Two shots to the back of his head, one to his neck at the spine, and the final bullet pierced his back, dead center.
The terrorist dropped.
“Incoming truck from the west,” Tank said.
She whipped her head, eyed the vehicle barreling down the street. The front window was tinted, the side windows too. “I can’t get a visual.”
“Ready your shot,” he said.
The pickup truck veered into the parking lot and crashed into one of the parked ALPHA SUVs. Two men exited, their automatic weapons raised over their heads.
One shouted in Arabic as he passed his dead comrade.
Sydney homed in on the left terrorist, opened fire.
POP-POP-POP-POP!
Down he went.
Then, she moved the rifle into position as the remaining terrorist raced toward the front door.
And she pulled the trigger.
CLICK.
It had jammed.
She grabbed the third rifle, placed it against her shoulder, and unloaded into him.
POP-POP-POP-POP!
