required to kill the woman, so be it. Ammo was relatively cheap.
Consequently, so were humans.
Serov took a slight breath, became absolutely still and lightly
squeezed the trigger.
“Oh my God!” Lee shouted as he watched the man’s body twist and then
pitch violently against the woman. They both dropped to the ground as
though sewn together.
Lee instinctively started to race out of the woods to help. A shot hit
the tree right next to his head. Lee instantly dropped to the ground
and sought cover as another shot hit near him. Lying on his back, his
body shaking so hard he could barely focus the damn monocular, Lee
scanned the area where he thought the shots had come from.
Another shot hit close to him, kicking up wet dirt in his face,
stinging his eyes. Whoever was out there knew what he was doing and
was loaded for dinosaur. Lee could sense the shooter methodically
closing in on him grid by grid.
Lee could tell that the shooter was using a suppressor, because each
shot sounded like someone slapping a wall hard with the palm of his
hand. Splat. Splat. Splat. They could have been balloons exploding
at a child’s party, not cone-shaped pieces of metal flying at a million
Mach seeking to wipe out a certain PI.
Other than the hand holding his monocular, Lee tried not to move, tried
not to breathe. For one terrifying instant he saw the red line of the
laser dart near his leg like a curious snake, and then it was gone. He
didn’t have much time. If he just stayed here, he was a dead man.
Laying his gun on his chest, Lee stretched his fingers out and
carefully groped for a moment in the dirt until his hand closed around
a stone. Using just the flick of his wrist, he tossed the stone about
five feet away, waited; and when it hit a tree, a bullet struck the
same spot a few seconds later.
With his infrared eye, Lee instantly zeroed in on the heat of this last
muzzle flash, as oxygen-deprived, super-hot gas escaping from the rifle
barrel collided with the outside air. This simple reaction of physical
elements had cost many a soldier his life as it revealed his position.
Lee could only hope for the same result now.
Lee used the muzzle flash to fix on the man’s thermal image amid the
cover of trees. The shooter wasn’t that far away, well within range of
Lee’s SIG. Realizing he would probably get only one attempt, Lee
slowly gripped his gun and raised his arm, trying to locate a clear
line of fire. Keeping his gaze on his target through the monocular,
Lee clicked off the safety, said a silent prayer and fired eight shots
from his fifteen-round mag. They were all aimed fairly close together,
increasing his chances of a hit. His pistol shots were much louder
than the rifle’s suppressed ones. On all sides of him wildlife fled
the human conflict.
One of Lee’s shots miraculously found its mark, mainly because Serov
had moved right into the path of the shot as he was attempting to shift
to a closer position. The Russian grunted in pain as the bullet
entered his left forearm. For a split second it stung, then the dull
throbbing came as the bullet ripped through soft tissue and veins,
shattered his humerus and finally came to rest in his clavicle. His
left arm immediately became heavy and useless. After killing a dozen
people in his career, always with a gun, Leonid Serov finally knew what
it felt like to be shot. Clutching the rifle in his good hand, the
ex-KGB agent took the professional way out. He turned and ran, blood
splattering on the ground with each step.
Through the FLIR, Lee watched him run for a few moments. From the way
the man was retreating, Lee was pretty certain that at least one of his
shots had scored a hit. He decided it would be both stupid and
unnecessary to chase an armed and wounded man. Besides, he had
something else to do. He grabbed his bag and ran toward the cottage.