Ghost Sniper Read Free

on his body armor and the upper left arm. He knew he had to get his diplomatic charges off the street, but there wasn’t any time, and there wasn’t anywhere to run if there had been. This was a point-blank shoot-out to the death.
    Ears ringing, Uriah knelt beside him, and they poured on the fire, knocking two of the gunmen off their feet.
    â€œReloading!” Vaught dumped the empty magazine, pulling a fresh one from inside his jacket. Uriah dropped his own empty weapon to draw his Glock 21, firing into the remaining three gunners. Another went down, but not before Uriah took an AK-47 round to the chest plate and fell over backward.
    Vaught brought the CQC pistol back up and cut down the remaining two men as they fumbled to reload. Uriah rolled to his feet and helped the other DSS men cover their diplomatic charges. With the storefronts along this block locked up behind metal gates, there was no place to seek shelter. The burning vehicles provided some cover, but there was the danger of further explosions.
    Three masked motorcyclists zipped past, spraying them with 9 mm fire from Uzi automatic pistols. A DSS agent fell dead with a bullet through the brain. Another was struck in the legs. Downly’s male aide crashed to the sidewalk, hit through the liver and spleen. He would bleed out in seconds.
    Downly screamed and dropped to her knees beside the aide, covering her head with her hands. The bikes whipped back around in the now-empty street and made a second high-speed pass, spraying the scene again while the DSS men returned fire. Ambassador Louis and another DSS agent went down. Vaught ran out into the street to draw a careful bead on the last rider as they raced away, squeezing the trigger and knocking him off the bike with the last round in the magazine.
    The four motorcycle cops suddenly reappeared, speeding past him in hot pursuit of the other two fleeing motorbikes.
    â€œWhere the fuck are the cops going?” Uriah screamed. “We need ’em here!”
    â€œIt’s a goat fuck!” Vaught switched out the magazine as he came back from the street. “The whole thing’s a goddamn setup! Help Bogart get Downly off the ground while I check on Clay. We gotta move!”
    â€œTo where?”
    â€œAnywhere’s better than here!”
    Bogart’s real name was Stevens, but he looked a lot like Humphrey Bogart, and he was having trouble getting Downly up with one arm, needing to keep the other arm free to shoot. The drug czar was completely petrified, refusing to carry her own weight and screaming hysterically with her hands pressed over her ears. Uriah grabbed her other arm, and they hauled her to her feet.
    Vaught crouched beside Agent Clay, the DSS man hit in the legs. “Can you move under your own power?”
    Clay shook his head, gripping his weapon, eyes searching everywhere, bleeding from both thighs and a knee. “The knee won’t support my weight. We’re in deep shit here, Chance. Why are all these fucking storefronts locked on a Tuesday?”
    Vaught stated the obvious. “To keep us out here on the street.” He stood and pulled Clay up onto his better leg. By now, the remaining Chevy was also fully engulfed in flames, having been too close to the other burning vehicles. “Let’s skirt around the bus and keep moving up the street until we find an open building. We should be hearing sirens any time now.”
    â€œWhy aren’t we hearing them already?”
    â€œThey’ll wait until they’ve gathered a large enough force to handle whatever the hell they think is going on down here.”
    Just then Clay’s body exploded, spattering Vaught with the soldier’s blood and viscera. He staggered back as the cannon shot echoed up the avenue from down the block.
    â€œHoly fuck! It’s a Barrett! Everybody down!”
    Hesitating a fraction of a second too long, Bogart was struck in the back by a .50 caliber sniper