Absence of Mercy
Page 27
She wasn’t carrying a weapon which had been surrendered to the CIA when she left the service. She did the only think she could think off. She hoisted her suitcase, stepped around to the rear of the vehicle, and slammed it hard against the window. At the same time she screamed at the top of her voice. “Get down!”
The suitcase flew through the window as if it wasn’t there. She could see the outline of a man crouched over a sniper rifle, which took the full force of her case and rocked on its tripod. The gunman fell back, but not before he squeezed the trigger and filled the air with a staccato crack that echoed off the buildings.
Boskovic knew the bullet had missed the target. Even before he had sent it on its way, the eyepiece jerked upwards and he felt the impact of something heavy slamming against the side of his head. The last squeeze on the trigger was a convulsive reflex rather than a carefully-designed act of professionalism.
He looked up to see a redheaded woman standing outside the shattered window. He had no way of knowing who she was or why she had decided to do what she did. A murderous scowl twisted his face and he rose to disconnect the rifle from the tripod. The bitch would pay for her interference!
He pushed open the rear door and jumped into the street cradling the Dragunov, his arms swivelling for a sight of the redhead who had ducked to the side of the vehicle.
His anger was so intense that he failed to register the approaching sound of pounding feet. The woman was all that mattered. He found her running to the front of the van, her back presenting an easy target as she scrambled for safety.
Devon and Doyle needed little time to grasp what was happening. They heard the scream and watched in amazement as Horgan hurled her case into the back of the van. They ignored the rifle report and were already running by the time Boskovic leapt from the rear of the vehicle.
Realising the danger Horgan had put herself in, Doyle ran like a man possessed. He was still a hundred yards away when he saw the gunman track Horgan to the side of the van. It was too far to be sure of an accurate shot, but he needed to do something. He raised his Glock and began firing wildly in the gunman’s direction, more in the hope of distracting him than in taking him down.
He watched helplessly as the gunman ignored the rounds whizzing around him and brought his weapon to bear on the front of the vehicle. He was aware of Devon brushing past him at full tilt before stopping thirty yards ahead to steady his Sig.
A single shot rang out.
The gunman appeared to freeze in position. Then Doyle saw the big rifle fall to the ground. The man crumpled sideways against the van before sliding to the pavement. Jeez, Devon had made the shot!
The two men bolted towards the vehicle, Devon stopping to make sure the gunman was dead. An exit wound dead centre of the forehead told him he was.
Doyle ran past to find Horgan sprawled across the bonnet. She looked up and smiled. He grabbed her in his arms and kissed her. She pulled away and looked into his eyes. “I remember once hearing someone say in a movie that relationships that start under intense circumstances never last.”
“Yep,” Doyle responded with a smile, “but here’s the good news. Sandra Bullock was not a redhead and I’m no Keanu Reeves. I think our relationship will stand up to whatever’s thrown at it.”
“Oh, so we do have a relationship?”
“We most certainly do.”
Devon found them in a passionate embrace, but pretended not to notice. “Our friend back there is Dragan Boskovic, the last of the assassins to be accounted for. Guess that means I’m leaving you with a clean slate.
“Hold on a minute,” Doyle said as he disentangled himself from Horgan. “Does this mean you’re definitely going to leave the agency?”
“No, it means I’m heading to France for a holiday. I’ll leave you to clean up this mess and get things shipshape by the time I return. I can promise you I’ll be more hands-on than the General was, so make sure there’s no slacking.”
Doyle frowned. “I don’t remember agreeing to take over as chief bottlewasher.”
Devon looked at him, then at Horgan. “Yeah, you did that about five seconds after it was offered to you. It just needed a good-looking former CIA operative to make you realise it.”
“So, when did you decide to take up the General’s offer?”
Devon laughed. “The moment I knew you were suckered in I couldn’t just walk away. Someone has to keep an eye on you.”
Doyle shrugged his shoulders in mock resignation. “So, nothing changes. I still have to take orders from you?”
“Perish the thought! I may make a few suggestions from time to time, but you’re on your own when it comes to operational matters. Look on the bright side; your team is much better than the one I had!”
Devon watched in amusement as Doyle processed the remark. “Here’s my first suggestion. Despite what I said earlier, we don’t yet have a clean slate. Track down Jurgen Kappel and Dieter Neumann and see they pay for their part in this whole sorry mess.”
“You can bank on it.”
He patted Doyle on the shoulder, turned and walked away, his mind already drifting to visions of a holiday in the South of France.
Also by Joe McCoubrey….
Death by Licence
Someone Has To Pay
Absence of Rules
Please visit www.joemccoubrey.com