Month: May 2010

Continued from Twenty-five: Hard Driving

Twenty-six: Overt Sly

The first word that came to Rudi when he met the contact was unimpressive. Short, squat, with a patchy beard and missing teeth, Gurung had told him the contact wanted to be known as ‘Sly.’ Apparently, he idolized Stallone. Rudi decided he had better play the silent partner role, as Gurung had warned him of ‘Sly’s’ fragile ego.

“He’s not much to look at, but he’s connected and he’s done his time in.” Gurung apparently meant time in the Brigade of the Gurkhas. Rudi didn’t question him. Perhaps he could do so later . . . if he cared to.
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Continued from Twenty-four: For The Count

Twenty-five: Hard Driving

Gurung had acquired some exemplary equipment. Alex doubted that Drift could have provided him anything similar if he had been operational somewhere like Nepal. Maybe in a few days, a week or so, but in a few hours? Not a chance.

While he had some facility with cracking encryption, Willow proved much more proficient, so Alex relegated himself to assistant. She did the surgery, he passed on the tools and gave opinions when asked. Alex figured they’d be more successful and faster with her driving.
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Continued from Twenty-three: Me and Yu

Twenty-four: For The Count

Yu’s death quickly followed the sound of the window cracking. It meant one thing to Heather. She wasn’t alone in that assessment.

“Sniper!” Walker dropped to the floor.

The room only had two windows, but they were large and uncovered. Yu’s body lay on the ground near Madison and Becca. Boyle and Walker both crawled toward the windows, Walker to the one without the bullet crack.

Willow crouched near the door, MP5 raised to her shoulder. She fired off three suppressed shots, each one eliminating one of the trio of lights in the room.

“That explosion is going to bring the authorities fast,” Heather said.

Willow apparently agreed with her. “We need to go.”
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Continued from Twenty-two: Warm Welcome

Twenty-three: Me and Yu

Mads and Heather sat in the back of a beaten-up, patched-up, still functioning luxury sedan that had probably seen a hard three decades. In the driver’s seat, Willow—the athletic and direct sniper from Boyle’s team—worked something that looked like a kind of smartphone/palmtop. She had a second cellphone open on the seat beside her which she monitored through an earplug and mic.

They had parked on a relatively wide road. Without a sidewalk, shops and restaurants lined either side of the street, most closed, some still open—the glow of their neon signs the only street lighting. Few people moved along the road. A handful of clusters remained in those open bars and cafés. The buildings flanking the street were almost uniformly two stories, though there were a couple with a third floor. Those second and third stories would likely be apartments, relatively impressive by Kathmandu standards.

“He’s within thirty metres.” Willow spoke through the phone, but—of course—everyone in the vehicle heard her.

“That’s a lot of space.” Mads muttered. He should have kept it to himself. Willow craned her neck to face him. Heather reacted as well. “I’m just saying, there’s plenty of flops for him in that radius.”
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