Page 73 of Silent Target

“That word is becoming less comforting.”

I angle the lens toward the compound.

Light flashes.

The shot comes immediately.

The bullet destroys the lens.

Muzzle flash.

Low ridge.

Six hundred and eighty yards.

I find him through the scope.

His face is concealed behind camouflage.

His rifle is already shifting toward me.

For a fraction of a second, our scopes align.

He sees me.

I see him.

We fire almost simultaneously.

His bullet passes close enough to snap against the air beside my ear.

Mine strikes his shoulder.

He falls behind the rocks.

Not dead.

Disabled.

Evie releases the breath she was holding. “Is it over?”

“With him.”

Her expression tightens. “There are others.”

“Yes.”

Below us, Fathom exits the bunker carrying a padded case. Rook and Cobra close around him. Mac follows, unsteady but armed.

Walter watches them from across the yard.

He doesn’t order his men to fire.

He smiles.

I don’t like it.

“Rook, move now.”