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Reggie looked at Shaw and added, “I’m coming too.”
Shaw eyed Whit for support, but the Irishman merely shrugged
helplessly. “I’ve never won an argument with a woman in my life. And I don’t think I’m going to start a winning streak with these two.”
Shaw sighed deeply and, holding the gun ready, he set off. The others followed right behind.
CHAPTER
100
KUCHIN HAD chosen the ground, but not in the location one would have expected, not even Pascal. High ground was almost always good ground when it came to a conflict. Almost always. He aimed his rifle, sighting through the scope, and used a gloved hand to rub a bit of dirt off the glass. He pulled up his glove and eyed his watch. Then he lay back and waited, counting off seconds in his head to keep alert.
When the sounds first came he didn’t move. As the footfalls came closer he timed their impact with the ground and moved when they struck to disguise any noise he might make. The barrel came up; his dominant right eye leaned to the glass. The reticle did its job. Target acquired, there was no reason to wait. He fired.
“Shit!” screamed Whit, clutching his leg and falling to the ground immediately behind Shaw.
“Everyone down,” yelled Shaw.
They all flattened to the ground. Reggie slid over to Whit to see how bad the hit was. He was already pulling open his jumpsuit to try to stop the bleeding. “It went through,” he grunted. “Don’t think it hit the bone, but Jesus it hurts like hell.”
Reggie said, “We’ll get you out of this.”
Whit shook his head, his face growing pale. “It’s just like Rice. The bastard has his method, Reg. Leg first, then the torso.” He grunted in anguish, his whole body shaking with pain. His mouth quivering, he added, “And then the damn dogs.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
He grabbed her with his good arm and thrust the knife into her hand. “If you hear those dogs coming just finish me off before they get to me. Promise me!” She couldn’t answer him, but stared back at him helplessly. He shook her. “Damn it, Reggie, promise me. Don’t let them do to me what they did to Rice.”
Reggie looked down at the knife as tears formed in her eyes. “Whit, I can’t. I can’t do that.”
Whit seemed to gather his strength to make one more plea. “If you don’t then Kuchin wins. And we can’t let the bloody monster win, Reg, can we?” He lay back gasping.
Reggie clenched the knife tighter, brushed the tears away, and said, “All right, I will. If I have to.”
From where he crouched Shaw surveyed the landscape ahead. The fog was still rolling in, heavier now, covering everything with a gauzy haze. The shapes of things began to alter and transform, playing tricks on one’s eyes. The direction Whit had been shot from meant that Kuchin was somewhere in front of him, but that left a lot of degrees of the compass to account for. They might only get one chance at this. He told Katie to stay where she was and crawled over to Reggie and Whit. After checking on the wounded man, he handed her the gun. She looked at him questioningly.
Shaw said, “This is our last chance, Reggie. The only way we get out of this is to smoke him out.”
“How?”
“Muzzle flash. We haven’t seen one yet, but it’s still dark enough for the light to be clearly visible when it comes.”
“How are you going to manage that?”
“By making him fire again.”
“I know that, but how!” she said fiercely.
He pointed up ahead. “I’m going to run in a straight line directly in front of you from right to left. You keep your eyes up there. The flash will come from that direction. He’s close. I could tell from the sound of the discharge. It wasn’t fired from a distance.”
“Shaw, you—”
He looked over at Whit moaning on the ground. “When the muzzle flash comes—”
“Shaw, I can’t—”
He slapped her in the face so hard it left her cheek red and raw. “Don’t tell me what you can’t do. You will do this.”
