Monday, August 15, 2016

The Assassin in India (3) - It's nice to be nice

(Start with Part One)

"Did he say anything about her back end coming up after that? I've heard it's fucking nice." Tommy quipped and I clipped the button before answering.

"We've got a man out on recon, cut the radios." The last thing we needed was some pasty in intelligence catching our static and hacking through our scrambler.

I walked across the thick carpeting to the far wall of the living room and sat down, assembling my HK417 and laying it across my knees. They had a nice 50" LCD on the wall beside the door. I hoped it'd make it. I considered the couch, white rattan that was slowly collecting a plaster and insulate spray pattern. I decided to hold against the wall after all. I studied the rug, trying to figure how much blood I'd lost. I popped an isotonic pack and dumped it into my bottle, just in case.

While I was fishing around I pulled out an eppie stick and tucked it into a strap in my sleeve. Command said don't use them, but they were in every sergeant's med kit. A shot of adrenaline could save somebody's life, but the boys got bored too easy for them to be standard issue, even for Special Forces. Another sharp crack sounded like it hit our area. I took a deep breath and kept waiting.

After about five minutes with no gunshots, the head of household walked back out. I grabbed my personal kit and offered him a smoke. He took it, walking over to the couch and staring down at it in disgust. I lit my own. I don't smoke, except to get closer to civvies. He got back up to take the lighter and I heard choppers in the distance.

"Fuck."  I thumbed out a text and reached up to my shoulder and clipped on the button, speaking in a low voice.

"Ok boys, apparently this guy is legit. It sounds like IAF is sending in support. We're moving ahead to bunker two in two minutes. Get your shit together." We'd look like foreign backpackers unless you were checking too close- but we'd have to disarm, we couldn't have all this gear strapped on.

"We'll that's just fuck all, isn't it?" Mikey spit out sarcastically and their radios went dead again. I left mine on, I had a fucked cover and a lovely civvie with a tasty bird to interrogate- politely. Who gave a shit if one of my boys checked in.

Continue to Part Four

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