Cheyenne, Wyoming, USA 28 July 2017 1135 Hours MDT
Michael and I low crawled along the jogging path, the retaining wall to our right shielding us from the sniper. I could hear sirens starting to wail in the distance.
Frank’s voice came over my earpiece.
“I’ve got movement eight hundred and seventy yards out. Looks like our shooter is taking off.”
I shot a glance at Michael, who nodded. We jumped to our feet and sprinted for the grove of trees where Michael had been positioned, and where his shopping cart was still sitting.
No shots rang out, no supersonic rounds slammed into us.
Once we were safely in the cover of the trees, we started tearing off our clothes. Under my blouse and slacks, I was wearing a dark grey tank top and black leggings.
I untucked my tank top and pulled it out over the butt of my Glock 43. Michael shrugged out of the green surplus jacket and reached into his shopping cart.
He jerked a blanket aside and tossed me a pair of running shoes. He pulled the dirty hoodie up and over his head, revealing a dark green workout shirt.
The filthy jeans were tossed away leaving black athletic shorts.
Michael upended the cart and dragged out a baby stroller, which he quickly folded out. Dropping his carbine into the stroller, he zipped up the sun shade and we started jogging out of the park.
Police cruisers were just pulling up as we reached the street on the park’s east side.
I pasted a panicked expression on my face, and Michael and I both started moving with the rapid, scurrying motions of prey animals.
Police officers waved us towards them, and quickly moved past us into the park. We disappeared into the surrounding streets and crowds.
The ride back to the safe house was a long and silent affair.
I absently scrubbed at some of George’s blood that had gotten on my hand as I grabbed the flash drives, while I pondered the information George had given me in our lunch meeting.
The Sinaloa cartel. A rival intelligence and military contracting company. A mole in our own organization. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the head rest.
When we arrived back at the barn, Michael and George respectfully offered me first dibs on the shower, and I gratefully accepted,
letting the hot water beat against my face as I tried to wash away the memories of the day.
The three of us reconvened in the silo that evening, sitting together in silence for several minutes.
Frank finally broke the silence.
“The shooter had to have been on top of the office building to the southwest. I ranged it at eight seventy, so it must have been about seven hundred yards from the table.”
I closed my eyes as I relived the moment of George’s death. “Would that be a hard shot?”
Frank cocked his head to the right and considered the question carefully. “Yes and no. A straight seven hundred yard shot isn’t that difficult.
Heck, every Marine takes shots at five hundred yards with iron sights in basic training. Throw a scope on a rifle and just about anybody with basic rifle training could make it."
His brow furrowed and he steepled his fingers under his chin. “That being said, the shot was from the top of a building and in the wild, so that might make it a bit more difficult."
He murmured to himself and pulled out his phone, punching numbers into the calculator. “Building looked to be about five hundred feet tall, so not that much difference from the angle.
Five mile per hour crosswind, so maybe… seven clicks for wind. Yeah, not an easy shot, but nothing challenging for someone with halfway decent rifle training.”
I filled the two in on what George had told me. “So the guys that we’ve dealt with up to this point are probably from the rival organization.
But we have the cartel to deal with as well, plus the possibility of a terrorist organization.”
“This just gets better and better.” Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. “So what’s our next step?”
I held up the flash drive I had taken from George’s body. “We dig through the intel George got us.
Then we go hunting.”
Frank’s face split into a predatory grin as he and Michael shared a look. “Oh, I like her.”
Michael barked out a laugh and looked back at me. “Let’s get to it then.”