by Adam Hall
'And the risks?' I heard him ask.
'The risks are about what you'd expect: the chopper could make a bad night-landing; there could be mechanical trouble with the jeep; the sniper could miss the target first time and have to put more shots in and give his position away. Nothing's going to be certain on this one, or easy.'
'But you deem it viable.'
'Technically.'
He began prowling again. 'And the weapon?'
'You can't use any kind of missile or mortar because the noise and the smoke would expose the sniper and bring immediate return fire. The range for this set-up is close to a hundred yards, so you'll need something like a Finnish-made bolt-action Sako TRG-21 with a — '
'Excuse me,' Flockhart said, and looked at Pringle. 'Can you put this on tape?'
I had to wait for him to set up the Sony but it gave me more time to think. 'All right, something like a Finnish-made bolt-action Sako TRG-21 with a ten-round box magazine. Ideally you'd want a 168-grain hollow-point boat-tail bullet, ideally a Matchking. And try for a Bausch and Lomb 10 x 40 tactical scope with a Mil-dot reticle — he'll be sighting in early-morning light.'
Pringle left the recorder running.
Flockhart asked, 'Can we find a weapon like that?'
'There are two people in the black market here,' Pringle told him, 'who trade in guns. If I gave them this one as a model, maybe they could come close.'
'The moment we finish here.'
'Yes, sir.' He shut down the Sony.
This was at 01:13.
'I need sleep,' I said.
'But of course.' Courteous to the last, though he had nothing but hate for me. 'You should know that in view of the information you brought in tonight I intend to contact the prime minister and suggest he advises King Sihanouk to order the capital evacuated as soon as possible, to prevent at least some loss of life when the missiles are fired. Meanwhile we shall set up your operation and try to find someone to take it on.' He took a step towards me. 'However, if at some time before the deadline is reached you should for any reason change your mind…' He left it.
There was nothing I could say that hadn't been said.
As I turned towards the steps I noticed that the little salamander had gone from the wall.
I slept, on and off, lying uncovered on my bed in the stifling warmth of the night, the bed with the young girl's hair still caught in the split bamboo.
Sometimes shots woke me from the distant streets; sometimes I woke to the thin plaintive song of the Chinese woman, thinking I could still hear it. And then, soon after three o'clock, the sound of footsteps brought me out of my sleep and I heard an urgent knocking at the door of the house and then the voice of my host, demanding to know who was there.
It was Flockhart, and he gave me the news.
27: REQUIEM
The air was still, here at the edge of the jungle.
The helicopter turned through forty degrees, forty-five, then settled on the pad across the lake. The power was shut down and the rotors began slowing.
As I lifted the gun I saw Flockhart for an instant in my mind as I'd seen him earlier, his face drained and his eyes burning as he gave me the news and at last a reason I could call my own.
Then the memory was gone and I sighted through the scope as the door of the helicopter came open and a man stood there in battledress, and as he thrust his arm above his head with his fist clenched a shout went up from the rebel soldiers who were there to welcome their leader.
I centred the target in the cross-hairs — Pour toi, Gabrielle — and coloured the morning with the blood of General Kheng.
The End
Notes
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-613bff-1c5d-3248-91b0-40d7-e7db-a0d90e
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 23.09.2007
Created using: Fiction Book Designer, Fiction Book Investigator, FB Writer v2.2, FB Editor v2.2 software
Document authors :
Paco
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