James Axler – Stoneface

Before she took any action, she had to make one final attempt to contact Ryan. She pressed the transmit stud on the receiver and said, “Ryan, come in. Ryan, respond. Goddammit, why won’t you respond?” This time she received an answer.

Chapter Thirty

J.B. rolled behind the outcropping and came up with his Uzi in firing position just as two more steel-jacketed wasps stung the canyon wall overhead. The outcropping was over seven feet wide at its base and provided enough cover for everyone, as long they sat scrunched up, knees folded against their chests. Unfortunately it wasn’t very high, barely four feet tall.

Jak cautiously peered at the opposite wall of the canyon, the only place for the shots to have originated. The sniper was well hidden. If it hadn’t been for the teenager’s keen sense of hearing, J.B. might have been chilled.

Jak ducked aside as another bullet ricocheted off the granite shield, but he had seen a glint of sunlight on a gun barrel. “Spotted him.”

“An Indian?” J.B. demanded.

Jak shrugged. “Only saw gun.”

Krysty passed the Steyr SSG-70 to Doc, who passed it to Jak, who passed it along to J.B. Pushing his spectacles onto his forehead, J.B. brought the rifle to chin level, settling the rubber-cushioned stock into his shoulder. He peered through the image-enhancing scope and followed Jak’s direction to the reflected light.

He spotted it and took slow aim, centering the cross hairs, waiting for the sniper to show more of himself than just his gun barrel. Jak said, “I’ll speed along.”

He lifted his head until the top of his white mane rose above the edge of the outcropping. J.B. glimpsed a dark arm and head through the scope and squeezed the trigger of the rifle. The report sounded like a giant twig snapping in two.

“Think got him,” Jak whispered.

Almost at the same second, a dark shape slithered over the lip of the canyon wall and fell with a clatter to the stones below. J.B. saw it through the scope and identified it as an SA-80 automatic rifle.

“It’s Hellstrom’s people,” he said grimly. “They must have figured out who we were and came after us.”

“He’ll send men up on both sides to block us off in two directions,” Fleur said fearfully.

Peering over the outcropping, Jak said, “Two across from us, hear at least two more above us.”

Doc craned his neck, looking up the canyon wall. “We have been cast in the roles of the proverbial fish in a barrel. They will not have to expose themselves to point their weapons down and shoot.”

“Mebbe so,” J.B. said, pulling his sack to him. “Mebbe not so.”

He pawed around in the bag and pulled out an oval gren, the thin metal walls encircled by rubber rings. He tossed it experimentally in his hand.

“What are you planning to do with that?” Krysty asked.

“Take care of the coldhearts above us.”

“You’ll have to arm it and throw the damn thing straight up, J.B. There’s no guarantee it won’t just drop back down and blow up in our laps!”

J.B. smiled. “This is a DM-19 incendiary gren with a phosphorus filler. It has a pull-cord arming device, but detonation occurs when the casing breaks.”

“So?”

J.B. tossed the grenade to Jak, who caught it gingerly. He turned his back to the outcropping and leaned as far back as it would allow. He looked straight up, holding the Steyr to his shoulder.

“Jak, when I say ‘now,’ I want you to throw the gren straight up, over our heads. Try to put a little effort into it so it’ll land on the top of the wall, but it doesn’t matter if you do. Just make sure you throw high and straight.”

J.B. flattened himself against the rock and fitted his eye over the scope. He waited, watching and listening. There was a faint clink of metal against rock and he said softly, “Now.”

Jak lobbed the bomb up in a straight line. J.B. followed the gren’s vertical flight through the scope, and when it lost its momentum and began to drop, he waited until the small object was level with the edge of the canyon wall before squeezing the trigger. He was right on target.