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Ke
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Rapp watched Ashani’s entourage move out in a hurry. These militia guys didn’t mess around. He moved to a second set of windows to get a better view as they accelerated toward the police checkpoint. This was the moment he’d feared. He half expected the cops to unload on the three vehicles in a modern-day Iraqi version of the climactic scene in Bo
Rapp returned to the other window. “The hard part should be over now that the Hatfields have left town.”
“I agree.” Stilwell tapped a few keys and changed the camera angles on the main monitor. “This was a hell of an idea you had, Mitch. Could be one for the history books.”
“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself there, Don Juan. They’re plenty of crazy-ass mullahs back in Tehran who are going to hate this. “
“Even if they don’t take us up on the aid package, you’ve managed to deflect attention away from us and Israel.”
“We’ll see.” Rapp watched Ke
A flurry of motion just beyond the white SUV caught his attention. Rapp watched as the two police officers ma
The thunderous report of one of the.50-caliber machine guns caused Rapp to flinch. In this urban setting of hard asphalt and concrete surfaces the concussion of the weapon boomed like a ca
There was a loud explosion and then Rapp heard McDonald’s voice in his ear. “Shit! We’re under attack. Don’t stop! Move, move, move!”
The first explosion was followed by two more. Rapp’s weapon snapped into the firing position and he screamed back into the apartment, “Get that quick reaction force here ASAP!”
Rapp saw the rear driver’s side door of the last SUV open. An obviously wounded security contractor fell out of the vehicle and attempted to seek cover behind the rear wheel. A group of cops hiding behind the trunk of their cruiser opened fire on the man, mercilessly pounding him with dozens of rounds. Rapp took in a deep breath and denied himself the immediate gratification of killing policemen first. They could wait.
The dull, black suppressor on the end of his weapon only added to its accuracy. The L-3 EOTech sight consisted of a squarish viewfinder with a red dot in the middle. It was an amazing advance in battlefield technology that allowed the shooter to keep both eyes open while zeroing in on a target. Rapp centered the red dot on the head of the.50-caliber gu
“Grab a gun and get out here,” Rapp yelled to Stilwell. He was tracking his weapon in search of the other.50-caliber gun, when he saw one of the police officers taking aim with an RPG. Rapp brought the red dot back, centered it on the man’s head and fired. The bullet struck the cop in the side of the head just as he was firing his grenade launcher. The force of the bullet sent the grenade off course and into a building where it exploded, taking out three cops. Rapp found the third.50-caliber gun and missed the man on his first shot. He quickly reacquired the target and sent him spiraling out of the truck bed. Rapp began moving from one target to the next in a steady, methodical, unrushed pace, counting each expelled cartridge as he went.
“Mac,” Rapp said as calmly as he could. “Give me a status report.” He continued to shoot, and count, as he waited to hear from Ke
He chambered a round, stood, found a new martyr trying to man one of the.50-caliber machine guns, and hit him in the side of his head. Rapp heard moaning over his earpiece.
“Mac, is that you? Are you all right?” Rapp searched for a new target, which wasn’t easy. The cops had started to figure out that a good way to get killed was to try and man one of the.50-caliber guns. “Mac,” Rapp called out again. He watched as two of the cops pointed down the street and then jumped in one of the squads and peeled out. Rapp’s spirits soared for a second. He didn’t think the Stryker column could have gotten here that fast, but it had to be why the cops were ru