Once dressed in his camouflage clothing he collected his weapons that had been meticulously cleaned and arranged the night before and drove to the marijuana farm. He fired two shots at the window before throwing a brick and then a grenade into the room. The brick ensured that the grenade landed in the living room and he made calls to the police, fire and ambulance services from three different disposable phones which he disposed of in a nearby drainage grate.
Driving away from the scene of his first attack, secure in the knowledge that if anyone did report seeing his car, which he very much doubted, there was little the police could do to stop his plan. He also took the measure of covering his license plates whilst he was near the drug den and felt comfortable enough to park only a couple of streets away from the police station. A short walk later and he was climbing up the ladders he had brought with him, thankful that they were collapsible so as not to raise any suspicion and placed himself on the roof of the petrol station and sat in wait.
The wait had been long but he knew that his prey was coming and from what direction. Even if for some reason they came from the other two directions, he had the line of sight to make an attack but the closest place for them to drive down was the route they had taken which made things a lot easier.
Leaving his rifle had been difficult since he had practiced with it for years but the sign of a good sniper was being able to adapt and move from locations. His next location he had set up the day before. Running down a small alleyway next to the petrol station he turned sharply to his left and climbed over the fencing into someone's back garden. Turning to face the house, he slowly slid the glass doors open and entered.
Once inside he pulled off the mask he had been wearing and the close-knit beanie hat and felt the cool air on his face. The room he had entered was a dining room that opened out into a living area. He closed the door and placed a trip wire rigged to another flashbang next to it before walking through the hallway to the kitchen to see the unconscious form of a middle-aged woman tied with climbing rope to a chair. Dried blood stained her long blonde hair and she startled slightly as he entered the room. Trying to cry out she struggled against the silver duct tape that was covering her mouth. Her eyes seemed dazed and cloudy; she may be suffering from a concussion from the blow he delivered from his pistol the night before.
Drinking a glass of water from the tap he looked around the room and started walking up the stairs. He made his way the bedroom in the corner of the house which faced the police station and offered a small window facing down the street where the petrol station was located.
Lying on the bed was the male owner of the house, who was bound with the same rope as his wife but lying on his stomach with his hands and feet together. He too had duct tape covering his mouth but unlike his wife, who had been wearing a dressing gown over a negligee, he had been forcibly dressed in camouflaged clothing. The man had struggled with his bonds, rubbing his flesh raw around his wrists and ankles but to no avail.
The shooter ignored him and went to the window facing the police station and picked up the rifle that he had placed on the floor the night before. Breaking in had been easy in the middle of the night, obviously the couple had not invested in quality security measures thinking being near the police station would save them from any crime. The female owner had been making a cup of tea in the kitchen when he had sneaked in and knocked her out with one of the weapons he had been carrying. Sleeping in the living room in front of the television, the husband was even easier to subdue. Both were retired and a quick check of calendars, phones and emails revealed that they only had one appointment that day and that was easily avoided with just one text message. That allowed the gunman a full day to use what was the ideal location to continue his attack without suspicion. He did not intend to stay for long but could do a lot of damage in a short space of time.
He arranged the stuff he needed in advance, moving the dressing table beneath the window and finding a comfortable office chair in a study downstairs, he set up somewhere comfortable to shoot the police station. There were only a few windows visible on the side of the building but it did offer an unrestricted view of the street below with the damage police van and car and the other road he had strewn with caltrops.
It was down that road he saw another police van, this one of the tactical variety and he let it get close enough to the station to hit the area denial weapons and swerve, struggling for control, before picking up the small handheld device at his side and pressing the button. It was only a garage door opener but he had rigged it to ignite a bomb he had planted in the car in front of the police station that morning. The car he had stolen from outside a drug dealer’s house the night before and he was positive that the man would not be reporting it lost which luckily meant it became a weapon and a poignant one at that.
The van was only yards away from the car when it detonated it and the homemade bomb combined with the full petrol tank was enough fuel to cause an explosion that flipped the police vehicle on its side. A giant plume of fire and smoke rose from the wreckage of the car, the concussive force shattering windows in the area and cracking the rest.
Behind the shooter the homeowner began yelling and struggling even more. Turning slowly around to face the man, the gunman picked up the glass he drank out of earlier and smashed it into the side of the man’s head. Although technically a civilian the man lived close enough to a police station that the sniper’s anger had transferred onto him. Glass sliced into the unprotected flesh of the resident’s face, it dug deep into his cheek and temple and was enough to knock the man out.
Shaking his head, the shooter was about to train his rifle on the police station windows and the two police vans when he heard a gunshot. Initially he thought it was return fire on him but he heard a muffled scream and realized it was from his booby trap across the other road. He quickly moved across the room and raised his rifle scope after opening the damaged window.
Two uniformed police officers were slowly making their way over the metal fencing to the playing fields. Raising the rifle, he took aim but they managed to disappear into the cover of the tree line before he had a clear shot. He was being more selective since he did not want to give away his position just yet, and without a clean shot it was not worth pulling the trigger. One of the policemen had been hobbling so he kept his eye on the area they entered in case they tried to get to the station for help.
He was about to give up on the two targets and go for an easier shot when he saw the blinding flash of over a million candela from the flashbang grenade he had planted on the petrol station roof, in his peripheral vision. Taking aim on the suited individual he fired but the man was rolling and the bullet narrowly missed, hitting the roof. Surprised at the speed at which his target got to his feet, the shooter took aim once more and breathed in deeply before breathing out slowly, holding it halfway out and firing once on the running man. Whoever the man was, he now stumbled forward and skidded across the roof falling from view.
Holding his attention on the petrol station area he smiled to himself, happy that there was someone else wounded. His earlier shots on the van had served a purpose to wound so as to encourage rescue. The more responders meant more targets. Which reminded him that there were still more people he could shoot.
Chapter Fifty Six
When my vision was cleared enough for me to feel comfortable and my hearing had returned to a degree that I could hear the sound of a couple more shots being fired from the gunman, I had another look at my phone. When I took the earlier picture of the roof all I had been focusing on was the mound that I had assumed was a man because that was my fear. On closer inspection I could see there was a shadow which could have been a person in the house next to the petrol station. It was difficult to confirm that because there was light in the room from that house and I had switched off the flash on the camera to ensure I didn’t give away my location.
With the phone still in my hand I crept around the corner of the petrol station oppos
ite from the road. I stuck to the wall, hoping it provided me some protection till I was at the other corner. Once again I took a photo but I couldn’t get a clear shot of the house because of the roof that covered where the petrol pumps used to be. I didn’t really want to venture out and hoped the gunman couldn’t see me but I could hear more shooting and from the angle I was now at I could look down the side street enough to see the police van resting on its side and a new fire raging.
I crouched low and moved towards the stanchions that kept the roof up. In the corner of what used to be the parking area for the petrol station was a metal shed area that from the faded signage was once a car wash. Bracing myself, I ran out to it and hunkered down in the corner of it and the fence. Breathing heavily, I waited in fear for a shot to take me down but it never came. The only rifle fire I heard was directed away from me.
I crawled on all fours to the corner of shed and used my phone once more. I didn’t take any photos merely using it as a means of seeing round the corner. Angling it upwards I could see into the nearby house and every time the rifle fired I saw a flash of light. My phone nearly fell out of my hand though as it started vibrating. I answered it on my headset.
“I’m a little busy here, Rich,” I whispered, well I hope I whispered it since my hearing felt like I was underwater.
“Glad to know you are alive, John. I take it I caught you at a bad time then?” he asked and even though I struggled to hear his voice there didn’t seem to be any gunfire or explosions in the background on his side of the conversation.
I leant against the cool metal, “Just been shot at, the bastard has ruined a perfectly good coat and he’s put go faster holes in my car.”
“It wasn’t your good car anyway,” now Rich said that offhandedly and I never once told him that I still had my Jaguar. I hated the fact that he had information like that, “Do you know where the sniper is?”
“Yeah he’s holed up in a house opposite the police station. I can see his rifle every time he fires. Originally he was up on the petrol station roof and I thought I had caught the bastard but he booby-trapped it with a flashbang. Guy was bloody clever; he put those hand warmer things inside a bag to replicate human body heat so the helicopter saw him.”
Rich sniffed on the other end, “Does sound very clever, I also hear he has used fire to mask his heat signature and a bomb has just gone off.”
“Yep. He’s also used caltrops across the road, shredded the tires on a police car and then he wired up a handgun to a tripwire across the street. Obviously doesn’t want anyone getting too close.”
“Yet you can see his muzzle flash?”
“Yeah. I can’t see into the house.”
There was a pause on the other end, “I don’t know, John, this guy has been smart in using area denial weapons and explosives but why reveal your location so quickly after you have gone to such an extent to hide by not putting something to mask your muzzle flash on the rifle. Even if he had switched on the lights it would be easier to hide it especially if he is deep within the room so as not be silhouetted. It doesn’t sound very professional to me.”
“What do you mean, professional?”
“First thing you would want to do as a military sniper is not put yourself in a location that is difficult to get out of and even if you do, don't reveal that position if you can help it. If this guy is using traps, John, be careful. He may not have planted them properly and therefore it could be more dangerous than even he intends.”
A wry smile crossed my face, “Don't know how you can be more dangerous when it comes to bomb making? I'll keep it in mind, mate, I've got to stop this lunatic though, he's got a tactical unit pinned down and from what I can make out he's keeping the police station under fire as well.”
“Have at him then, mate, keep me informed.”
“Will do,” I said ending the call and risking a glance out at the house. No rifle was directed at me or out down the road I had come from that I could see and I scampered to the fence, still remaining in a low crouch. My senses were heightened which meant that when another grenade detonated I jumped slightly. It seemed to be from the police station so whilst the shooter was distracted with that target I kicked the wooden panels at the base of the fence as hard as possible. Four kicks and the wood splintered enough for me to crawl through the hole. I was aware that I had made quite a bit of noise but I heard the report of the gunman's rifle once again and a yell of agony.
Sneaking down the alleyway I estimated that I was out of the line of sight for the room that the gunman had been using and climbed over the fence. Running to the wall of the house I took my breath and pulled out my pistol. If I was going in to meet the sniper, I wanted to be prepared.
Chapter Fifty Seven
The shooter relocated to his original shooting position after he had fired upon the man on the roof. He took his time firing on the driver of the van. Strangely he thought of it as being a merciful shooting since the man was trapped and injured in a vehicle that was close to a raging fire. It was also one of the most difficult shots he had to make since the Armoured Public Order Vehicle had a protective metal grille over the windscreen. The shot went through the small opening and into the officer eliciting a nod of approval for his own shooting from the gunman.
Firing a couple more shots into the van, he encouraged the armed police officers to get out. One of them stumbled out of the back, dazed and confused. Wearing a black uniform with a helmet and black mask there was nothing to identify the man which made it slightly easier when the gunman placed the rifle crosshairs on the officer's head and pulled the trigger.
Another person dead and these were supposed to be the protectors of the service. Two police cars had parked down the road near where he had made his original shots. They thought they were out of his range but they were far too close. He fired into the engines of both twice, aiming to immobilise the vehicles. The occupants wisely stayed behind cover.
Smiling at how well he was doing, the man fired on windows on both floors of the police station, shattering the reinforced glass. No one had remained near the windows since he had opened fire. The majority of the staff had made their way to the hallways or down to the detention area since there were no windows and the risk of breaking glass was therefore negligible.
Still there were three men in the reception area who had removed the injured staff and were now trying to make their way out to the van and what was left of the two policemen that had been stuck behind the low wall. The man who had risked his life for his comrade was still breathing, a guttural sound as his lungs filled with blood. Somehow he had managed to prop himself up on the wall with his one remaining good hand which was coloured crimson. It seemed black to the men who watched desperately from the reception area, using a broken mirror attached to a nightstick to peer around the corner.
The natural light of the day was fading and it was not even four o'clock in the afternoon, only one exterior lamp shone valiantly on the front of the station, the others destroyed in the carnage. With the fire, that was once a car, sending flickering light across the area it was difficult to see in the deep shadows.
Still the gunman could make out the reflection from the mirror and instead of shooting it and driving the would-be rescuers back inside he hurled one of his remaining grenades towards them. Since he was throwing from the confines of the house it was more of a slinging action and as such he lacked the velocity or the accuracy of earlier attacks. It landed near the small wall and rolled into the curb before exploding. Shrapnel embedded itself in the damaged van, other pieces ricocheted away but the dull thud of metal on metal rung out across the cold winter street.
Disappointed with the outcome of his throw, the shooter reluctantly picked up an elasticated slingshot. He had seen kids use them to hurl bottles across houses and knew the strength of the weapon. Placing another grenade on the carrier he drew back, pulled out the pin and let it fly through the air. He had practiced with the thing a couple of times out in fields and
hoped that his accuracy remained true. It was a dangerous delivery method; if the grenade fell out then it could have quite easily blown up literally in the shooter's face. However it did not and after bouncing off the underside of a window frame it landed in the second storey window of the police station and detonated.
He opened fire a couple more times on the van and heard a scream of pain meaning one of his shots had found a home in the body of a person. The gunman had surprisingly clarity, hearing the yell over the blood pounding in his ears and the crackling and snapping coming from the fire. It was nearly time to leave so he turned his rifle upon the original drug dealers who were being transported earlier in the day. From the angle of the house he was in he could make out the body of one of them hunkered down next to the rear wheel. Taking careful aim he went to pull the trigger when a loud detonation went off inside the house. It echoed loudly underneath him and the gunman shook his head in respect. They had found him sooner than expected but unless he was very much mistaken the police had once again fallen into one of his traps.
Chapter Fifty Eight
Before I entered the house I made a brief phone call, “Spencer, listen to me,” I whispered before the other man could speak, “I'm near the Elsworth police station and am currently about to enter the house the gunman is using. It is on the corner next to the petrol station, probably the most obvious of locations but he has got the armed response pinned down. I have a radio but don't know if it is secure which is why I'm calling you. If I don't make it out, I'll try and at least slow the bastard down for you. Once I hang up wait for my call.”
A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2) Page 24