“Exactly! Sam must’ve known something, and it must’ve been pretty damn important.”
“Like what?”
“I have no idea. Maybe he could identify someone, or has a billing address in his files, or maybe, just maybe, he knew something about Ariane. Truthfully, I don’t know. But if we don’t go outside, our odds of getting an answer go down considerably. And you know it!”
“Shit,” Jones grumbled, realizing what Payne had in mind. “You’re hoping to take this guy alive, aren’t you?”
Payne nodded. “How else is he going to be useful?”
Jones knew that Payne was right, that they needed to talk to the guy, but he also realized the level of danger that would be involved. If the sniper was still outside, he was probably waiting for them to make a move. And the moment they did-
Because that’s how snipers operated. They patiently waited for their targets to do something stupid, then they took full advantage.
“So, are you coming or not?” Payne asked in a less than pleasant tone. “ ’Cause if you aren’t, I gotta start looking for a new best friend.”
“Ah, man, why did you have to go there? Anytime you need a favor, you always pull out the best-friend card. Fine, I’ll help you out, but I’m not doing this because of your stupid threat. I’m doing this because I need the exercise.”
Payne grinned in appreciation. “The first thing we need to do is figure out how we’re going to get out of here. Since the door is glass, he’ll pick us off before we even open it. We’ll need to find a different exit.”
“How about the window? If I knock out the bottom half, we could slip behind one of the cars outside with little exposure time. Plus, it’ll let this guy know we’re armed.”
“Sounds good. But before we go, let me get the lights. The less this guy sees, the better.”
Jones liked the idea. Darkness would improve their odds even more. “Can you reach ’em from there, or are you going to have to shoot ’em out?”
Payne leaned out from his hiding place and stared at the small panel of switches near the door. It would take some doing, but he felt he could reach the buttons without risking his life.
“No problem,” he lied. “Piece of cake.”
Moving quickly, Payne dropped to his hands and stomach and crawled across the vinyl floor. He did his best to avoid the broken glass, but since there were chunks of it everywhere, he found himself bleeding immediately.
“Looking good,” Jones whispered as he peered out from behind the counter. “In about two feet, you’ll be directly under the switch. Okay, stop.”
Payne tilted his head back and tried to reach the metal panel above him, but the damn thing was a foot too high. That meant he’d have to leave the safety of the floor to reach it. Of course, the advantage he’d gain with darkness outweighed the risk of going for the lights. While keeping his torso parallel to the floor, he stretched his bloody hand upward, inching it slowly along the wall until he felt the cold surface of the switch.
“Let’s see if you like the dark,” Payne said as he turned off the lights.
The gunman replied with a blitzkrieg that tore through the tiny shop. Glass, wood, and plaster erupted into the air as the sightless sniper relied on blind luck and sheer volume to hit his targets. A second wave followed quickly, which shattered the front door and showered the room with a stream of razor-sharp confetti, but Payne remained calm, keeping his face covered and his body against the base of the thick front wall.
“I guess not,” he sneered.
When the violence subsided, Payne risked a quick peek into the back of the shop. Things were blurry at first because of the lack of light and a cloud of dust, but after a few seconds, he realized the counter that shielded Jones had taken more hits than a hippie at Woodstock.
“D.J.,” Payne whispered, “are you all right?”
“Yeah, and very lucky. I don’t know how that last batch missed me.”
“Me, either.” Payne glanced around the shop and realized they couldn’t stay there much longer. “We have to get out of here. If we stay put, he’s going to hit us eventually.”
Jones agreed. “He did us a favor by knocking out the door and window. If you want, I can fire a few clearing shots so you can bolt outside.”
Payne nodded. Even though Jones wouldn’t be aiming at the sniper, he would minimize the risk of return fire, which would allow him to slip outside. Of course, the drawback to the plan was the possibility of more than one gunman. If someone was waiting near the door, he’d shoot Payne rather easily.
But it was a chance they had to take.
“Are you ready?” Payne asked as he peered through the darkness. “On the count of three, shoot through the window as I head for the door.”
“You got it.”
“One,” Payne whispered as he adjusted the Glock in his sweaty right hand.
“Two,” muttered Jones as he peered at his glassless target.
“Three!” they yelled in unison.
With a burst of adrenaline, Payne leapt from the ground and sprinted out the door while Jones aimed his gun at the window and fired. Or at least tried to. Unfortunately, nothing came out when he squeezed the Glock’s trigger, which left his friend in a very precarious position.
The concrete under Payne’s feet exploded in wispy puffs of smoke as the gunman opened fire from the roof across the street. With nowhere else to go, Payne cut sharply to his right and dove behind the closest car he saw, a maneuver that tore most of the skin from his knees. In Payne’s mind, it was a fair trade. He definitely preferred scabs to bullet holes.
“Are you all right?” Jones called from inside.
“I’m fine!” Payne snarled. “Where the hell was my cover fire?”
“Sorry. I had a misfire. The damn gun wouldn’t shoot.”
“What do you mean it wouldn’t shoot? You have to pull the trigger, you know.”
Jones grinned, countering the insult with a fact that Payne had overlooked. “Don’t be mad at me, be mad at the source. Remember, you got your gun from the same place as me.”
Growling softly, Payne focused his attention on the weapon in his hand. If it had the same malfunction as Jones’s, he wouldn’t have a chance against the sniper. The truth was he had slim odds to begin with, but with a broken firearm, he would be in serious trouble.
“Shit,” he mumbled to himself. There was only one way to find out.
Payne pointed his Glock toward the building across the street and squeezed the trigger. But nothing happened. No explosion. No discharge. Just a quiet click.
In situations like this, Payne was taught to use a simple corrective technique known as “tap, rack, bang.” He tapped the bottom of the handle to make sure his magazine was properly engaged. Then he racked the gun, ejecting the misfired round and chambering the next one. Finally, he pulled the trigger again, hoping to hear a bang.
But in this case, the only sound he heard was another click.
“Well?” Jones called from inside the shop. He had tried the same technique without any luck.
“We’re so screwed we should be wearing condoms.”
Jones grinned. “Don’t give up hope yet. What kind of shot is this guy? Any good?”
Payne glanced at the holes in the sidewalk and sighed at the damage that had been done. “Not really. If he was, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.”
“And he’s probably working alone, huh?”
“If he wasn’t, his partner would’ve nailed me by now.”
“If that’s the case, then what are we afraid of? Are we going to let some redneck knock off two of this country’s best soldiers, or are we going to come up with a plan to take this guy out?”
“If I was a betting man, I’d put my money on the redneck.”
“I’m serious! We’ve been in several situations worse than this, and we’ve always made it out.”
Payne grunted as he stared at his broken Glock. “Fine, let’s list everything that we have, and maybe a plan will become obvious.”
