body like a bowstring. Knowing more blasts were coming, Ernie crouched down and covered his ears. The ground shuddered and shook with each progressive detonation surrounding him. The perimeter of Freedom’s Echo disappeared into a choking cloud of dust and flying debris.
Ernie called, “Get down, Sammy. Come on.”
“I can nail some of those bastards when the dust clears.”
“Sammy, get your dumb ass down from that tree. We’re buggin’ out.”
“Clear to shoot,” Harv whispered.
Nathan began a controlled squeeze of the trigger.
His rifle bucked against his shoulder.
“That’s a bingo,” Harv said. “Solid impact. Center mass.”
Ernie Bridgestone recognized the sound. The bullet’s supersonic arrival sounded like a giant bullwhip crack. He watched in horror as his little brother shuddered from the impact. From thirty feet high, Sammy fell like a rag doll into a pile of crumpled arms and legs.
“Sammy!” Ernie sprinted to the base of the tree and slung his brother’s limp form over his shoulder.
“I see him,” Nathan said as he ejected the spent shell and closed the bolt on another. He placed the crosshairs on the running man’s hip. Then something twitched on his spine and caused a shiver. It was the kind of premonition he couldn’t ignore. He’d felt it before and had never been wrong. He swung his rifle back toward the lodge. A man was standing in the open doorway using the jamb to steady his stance. Nathan found himself looking directly into the business end of a sniper rifle.
“Get down!”
The air cracked as the supersonic bullet arrived.
Behind him, the rock wall exploded in a barrage of hot copper, molten lead, and pulverized granite. Something stung his face. A second later, the thump of the discharge reached his position. Nathan pointed his rifle at the ground and fired. A burst of earth blew upward, giving himself and Harv a few seconds of cover.
“Harv!”
“I’m okay.”
They scrambled backward as another deafening crack tore the air. Son of a bitch! That shot hadn’t missed by more than six inches. Three more shots smashed the stone above their heads. Nathan protected his face with his forearms, but the rest of his body didn’t fare as well. Blood began oozing from a dozen minor wounds on his back and legs.
Ernie burst through the door and laid Sammy down. If the bullet hadn’t killed his brother, the fall would have. Sammy’s blue eyes stared blankly into space.
“Those fuckers,” Ernie said. “Those lousy motherfuckers.”
Leonard grabbed his brother’s shirt and yanked him closer. “I nearly lost both of you out there. There’s a sniper team on Eagle Rock. I just saved your fuckin’ life. You were two seconds from getting nailed.”
“I don’t give a shit. I’m gonna kill every one of those fucks.”
“Damn it, Ernie, I’m pissed too. But there’s nothing we can do for him now. He’s dead. If we go out there, we’ll die too. I promise we’ll get some payback, but not now.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Ernie, we have to go.”
“Those motherfuckers.”
“Ernie, now.”
Harv was crouched down, looking at his partner. “How’d you know?”
“Can’t explain it, I just did.”
“That guy’s a good shot. He nearly lit us up.”
“Probably the older Bridgestone brother. I doubt he’s still there, but we need to relocate. Can you sneak a look without getting your head blown off?”
“I think so.” Harv inched his way forward, crawling on his elbows until he could just barely see over the sand. He peered through his spotter scope.
“He was standing in the doorway of the main building.” Nathan saw that Harv was also bleeding from half-a- dozen spots on his back and legs.
“Nobody’s there now.”
“Okay, let’s bug out. Sprint to tree cover. Ready?”
“Yep.”
The two men grabbed their gear and took off, dashing across the sloped open ground. Within seconds, they were deep within the safety of mature sugar pines. They looked at each other in unspoken relief.
“I know we’re not here officially, but I think we should head down there,” Nathan said. “I’m betting there are more claymores, and we need to let them know about the sniper in the main building, I doubt they saw him through all the dust.”
“We need to let the SWAT teams know we’re coming,” Harv said. “Any ideas?”
“Yeah, we can yell.”
“Any other ideas?”
“Sorry, fresh out. As far as they’re concerned, we just took a shot at them.”
“Why do I get the feeling I’m going to regret this?”
“Relax, Harv, I’ve got things under control.”
His partner snorted. “I was afraid you’d say that. Hell, I guess it’s a good day to die. Let’s go.”
They took off their bulky ghillie suits and started down the mountain. Two minutes later, they reached the bottom of the incline. Not wanting to appear threatening in case they were spotted, Nathan had slung his rifle over his shoulder. There wasn’t much he could do about his Sig Sauer secured in his waist holster, because he wasn’t willing to approach an FBI SWAT team who had just been trashed by several dozen antipersonnel mines without being armed. Without a doubt, they were thoroughly pissed off.
Harv took out his scope and scanned the area ahead. “I’ve got a spotter at one o’clock, two hundred yards. Are you sure about this? Those guys are high-strung. They’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”
“Wait here.” Nathan handed Harv the rifle and shucked off his backpack. “I’ll make the approach. Just don’t let anyone shoot me.”
“I’ve got your six.”
Nathan worked his way through the trees, covering the 200 yards in just under a minute. Twenty-five yards from the SWAT spotter, he ducked behind the thick trunk of a ponderosa and looked back toward Harv. He had to lean several feet to his left to get a clear view. Harv gave him the okay sign. Now came the really tricky part. He was pretty sure how he’d handle it. The SWAT spotter had positioned himself behind a fallen tree branch, which gave him solid chest-high cover from the front and broken cover to his right. This was a small man, he could see that right away. An old adage flashed through his head. How did it go?
The downed branch where the spotter was crouched was thick, nearly two feet in diameter. Its structure fanned out to the spotter’s left while the meaty part of its splintered end faced Nathan. He judged the distance between them again: twenty-five yards, give or take. The spotter was down on one knee, sweeping the area in a back-and-forth motion with his upper body, gun at the ready. Every fourth or fifth sweep, he’d keep the arc of his motion going and look behind him. Nathan studied him for about thirty seconds and formulated a plan. Precious seconds were passing and he didn’t have the luxury of conducting a prolonged surveillance. And he sure as hell didn’t want to get sprayed with MP5 fire, so it was all about timing. He needed to make his presence known at the exact moment the man was lined up on his position. If he timed his move too early or too late, it would be interpreted as unintentional. The most likely result would be a horizontal maelstrom of copper and lead traveling at
