From Russia Without Love Read Free

kind of support position.
    Chris spoke quietly, like a ventriloquist, barely moving his lips. “I see him.” He continued to watch, trying not to think about him, trying not to alert any sixth sense the man might have.
    “Three-van motorcade just turned down Duke of York Street,” Hannah said. “Vans are dark colored.”
    A sudden dump of adrenaline tweaked Chris’s senses, causing the volume of his hearing to amplify and fade.
    “Sunshine, they’re right behind a sedan,” Hannah said. “As soon as the sedan pulls out, block the road. The vans are right behind.”
    “Roger.”
    A white sedan pulled out of Duke of York Street and turned onto St. James Square. Sonny was so close behind that it looked like he was about to scratch the sedan’s rear bumper. Sonny came to an abrupt stop, blocking Duke of York Street and the lead van. The van didn’t honk as the Range Rover had. Was the driver showing the discipline of a courteous citizen or the discipline of an experienced terrorist?
    Sonny stepped out, appearing frustrated at his vehicle, and began his act. Then he approached the driver’s side of the first van.
    Chris quickly scanned the civilians nearby. He didn’t recognize any of them, which was a good thing. He didn’t want anyone hanging around who’d seen Sonny’s act with the Range Rovers to become suspicious and call the cops.
    “Business Tourist is moving toward Sonny’s position,” Hannah said.
    Chris’s gaze shot back to the man, who carried something down by his side. Chris couldn’t see it clearly, but in his bones he felt it was a handgun or other such weapon. Sonny’s attention was on the vans, so it was Chris’s responsibility to protect his teammate’s flank.
    “Business Tourist has something in his hand,” Hannah said, her voice slightly shaky. “Could be a gun.”
    “Possible gun, aye,” Chris said.
    Sonny’s verbal exchange with the driver seemed to go on for a long time. Getting no help from the first driver to push Sonny’s vehicle, Sonny proceeded to the second van. Stepping to the side for a better view of the second driver, Chris maintained an eye on Business Tourist, who was still moving in Sonny’s direction.
    Chris still had no foolproof confirmation that a gunfight was about to take place, but he knew action was faster than reaction. He planted his feet like a boxer about to deliver a knockout punch, dropped his newspaper, and swung one side of his jacket out of the way, freeing his M4, which he brought up and aimed at Business Tourist. At about the same time, Sonny jumped away from the driver’s side of the second van. He must’ve seen something from up close that Chris couldn’t.
    Then he saw it. The driver pointed a pistol at where Sonny had been standing. Pop! The driver’s side window blew out, and a pedestrian screamed.
    In one fluid motion, Chris shifted his red dot to the driver who’d taken the shot. He held his breath so his lungs wouldn’t sway his body and squeezed the trigger once. Twice. Two puffs of air sounded, and the mixture of gas from the muzzle and the burning of oil in his weapon mixed into a sweet smell. The windshield imploded on the driver, causing his body to jerk. Two direct hits. Where the window broke, there was a white splash surrounded by spiderweb-like rings and lines, making it difficult to see if the driver was moving.
    “Business Tourist definitely has a gun,” Hannah finally said.
    He swiftly transitioned his red dot back to Business Tourist, who was now raising what was clearly a pistol, bringing it to aim at Sonny, who now had his M4 out, too.
    Chris popped Business Tourist once in the middle of his back. And then a second time. Business Tourist fell, biting the asphalt. Another civilian cried out, followed by more. Nearby people ducked and scattered.
    “Sunshine! Third van, Sunshine,” Hannah said. “Passenger in the third van aiming for you.”
    Chris moved to the side so he could see more of the rear van. Sonny had