The Sniper and the Wolf Read Free Page A

its fangs easily penetrating both the leather upper and the instep of Gil’s already damaged right foot.
    Fortunately, the narrow hall limited the dogs’ room to maneuver enough that Gil was able to pin the first one in the corner, bracing his free foot against a wall and using his forearm to jam the dog’s head against the floor, transitioning to the top position. The seconddog still had hold of his foot, and though painful, it posed no immediate threat to life or limb.
    Gil was about to jam his thumb into the dog’s eye socket when he smacked his head against a fire extinguisher sitting on the floor against the wall. He grabbed it with his free hand and thrust the plastic nozzle into the dog’s mouth, squeezing the lever to emit a large blast of CO 2 . The dog howled, immediately releasing Gil’s arm, flailing insanely to get back on its feet. Gil rolled off and gave the second dog a blast in the face, causing it to let go of his foot. He sprang into a crouch and used the extinguisher to haze both animals back down the hall. Then he wheeled around and hurled the extinguisher through the window. The glass fell away, and he leapt out into the night, landing in a steel dumpster half full of garbage.
    One of the German shepherds landed beside him a second later, sinking its teeth into his thigh with a snarl. “You motherfucker!” Gil busted the dog in the side of the head with his fist hard enough to make let it go. He kicked the animal away and threw a leg over the side of the dumpster as the second shepherd was leaping down from the window. Gil turned to slam the steel lid down on one of the dogs with such force that it was knocked out cold. The other dog continued barking inside the steel box as Gil trotted off down the alley.
    “Christ Almighty.” He leaned against a wall, flexing his fingers to check the extent of the damage to his left arm. Gil looked up into the sky again. “How do I get outta here?”
    “Keep an easterly heading,” the voice said quietly. “If you move fast, I’m pretty sure you’ll have time to hail a cab half a mile from there.”
    “What about the cops?”
    “Three more got shot down while you were having it out with the dogs. They’re under cover now and calling for medevac.”
    “Did you see which way the shooter went?”
    “No, but whoever he is, he sure as hell put the bloody finger on you.”
    Gil took a second to light up a smoke, tossing the match to the ground. “Make sure you find out who ghosted this operation. I’m gonna cut his fuckin’ heart out.”
    “We’ll be lucky to get you out of France.”
    Gil drew from the cigarette. “Then killing Umarov is still my number one priority. Which way to that cabstand?”

2
    PARIS,
France
    Gil caught a cab a half mile from the target area. The overwatch told him which words to use in French, and though Gil’s accent was terrible, the cabbie understood him well enough to follow his directions along the outskirts of Paris. The cabbie saw how badly his passenger was bleeding, and it soon became apparent to him that Gil was getting his directions from someone speaking to him through an earpiece. He began jabbering away over the back of the seat in hurried French.
    “He thinks you’re CIA,” the overwatch said with a chuckle.
    “You’ve seen too many movies,” Gil told the cabbie. “Just drive.” He was betting the cabbie spoke at least some English, as did most Parisians, though they usually pretended not to when dealing with American tourists.
    The cab driver pulled to the curb. “Get out. I don’t need your trouble.”
    Gil wasn’t in the mood for games. He lunged forward over theback of the seat, punching the cabbie in the face Indiana Jones style. “Now, you either drive this cab, or I will! I don’t have time for your shit! Comprendre, mon ami ? ”
    The cab driver leaned against the door, holding the side of his face where Gil had struck him, his eyes full of anger. “You are CIA.”
    “You’re damn