Page 98 of Nightfire

The driver got out, holding a pair of binoculars in one hand, a cellphone with the other, a rifle slung across his back. He brought the cellphone to his ear.

Harry put the call on speakerphone.

“So. You are alone, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Turn the vehicle around so the back is toward me and open the doors.”

Mike scrambled. The van had a fake panel behind the driver and passenger seats. His shoulders were too broad for a comfortable fit, but he managed it. They had powerful Sunagor binocs in the van. The lenses had a special non-reflective coating. A narrow opening showed him the scene two thousand yards away. The tan car, the blond man holding binoculars, a rifle slung against his back. A man in the passenger seat. No sign of Chloe.

“Show me my sister first,” Harry said.

The Russian, Nikitin, jerked his head. The man in the passenger seat got out and opened the back door of the car and started tugging.

Mike kept his breathing even, his mind calm. But somewhere deep inside him, hatred burned.

The second Russian pulled Chloe out so hard she fell headfirst into the dust. Mike watched as the Russian yanked her up with a powerful jerk. Chloe’s mouth opened in a cry of pain he couldn’t hear but he could see.

Mike moved the binoculars a fraction and took a good, long look at the man’s face. It was seared into his mind.

“Mike?” Harry said quietly, barely moving his lips. He held his hand over the microphone. “Sitrep.”

They both had a comms unit, almost undetectable.

Mike spoke into the mike. “Chloe looks basically unharmed. A little slow, maybe. I think they drugged her.”

“Satisfied?” The Russian’s voice came over the speakerphone. “Get that vehicle moving.”

Without a word, Harry put the Transit in gear, turned it around so the back faced the Russians. He got out and opened the doors. Mike knew the Russian was seeing an essentially empty van through his binoculars. All their gear was stowed along the walls. The floor was bare.

They were in a shitload of trouble if the Russian insisted on leaving the Transit like this. Mike needed room to set up.

Harry closed the back doors and hurried back to the drivers seat. He positioned the van so that the long side was facing the Russians.

“What are you doing?” Nikitin roared.

“Oh. Just putting the van back in place.” Harry stepped outside and walked forward, forestalling any objections. Mike couldn’t hear the Russian any longer, just Harry. “What do I do now?” he asked. He listened, placed the cellphone in its holster on his belt, and started unbuttoning his shirt.

The Russian had asked to show he was unarmed. Harry took his shirt off, held his hands up and turned around. When he’d made a complete circle, he pulled up his pants legs, one at a time, to show he didn’t have a backup weapon in an ankle holster.

He did, however, have a Glock 17 in a holster inside his waist band in the small of his back. They’d chosen the weapon together. Any long range shooting would have to be Mike’s lookout. Harry couldn’t hide a rifle. Harry put his shirt back on, but left it unbuttoned.

“Okay,” Harry said into the cell and started walking forward slowly. The second Russian put a gun to Chloe’s head and started walking forward too.

Nikitin pulled his rifle with a couple of feet of scope to his shoulder. It was an SVD, the Dragunov. It was a good rifle. But Mike’s was better. And however good a shot that fuckhead was, Mike was a better one. The Russian could be the best fucking shot in the world and Mike would still be better.

He could feel the cool deadly calm of a sniper coming over him. His heartbeat slowed down, his breathing too, both becoming so regular they could be used as metronomes. He was cool, in control. Nothing could bother him. He had no thoughts, only the mission.

A tiny, tiny beat pulsed when he saw through the binoculars Chloe stumbling along, trails of dust following her feet, a gun at her head. A spurt of heat pulsed through his system until he reined it in.

Cool. Calm.

They’d strategized a number of scenarios and this was one. Nikitin was counting on his rifle trained on Chloe to keep Harry in line. Even if Harry managed to attack the Russian holding a gun to Chloe’s head, Nikitin could shoot Chloe.

They would have a tiny window of opportunity and Mike started getting ready for it.

He pulled back the sun roof slowly. It was a special sun roof that allowed for operations out of the top of the vehicle. The Russian wouldn’t be able to see that the entire top was now free and open to the sky.