Matthew Dunn - Spycatcher

He spoke to Roger and gave the CIA man his approximate location. “One of the hostiles is close to me. Can you see anything?”

Roger took a moment to respond, and Will knew that he would be searching for signs of life through the powerful lens of his sniper rifle. His words came quick and quiet. “I saw something, just briefly, to your southwest and approaching the base of the mountain.”

Will swung his rifle in that direction, moving it so that it was looking between trees, at ground, at streams.

“Movement again.” Roger’s words were barely audible. “Same location. He must be about nine hundred meters from your position.”

Will breathed deeply. Then he saw the man and stopped breathing. The man was walking quickly and carried his rifle in one hand. His head and upper body were bent down. He was clearly moving to another position to try to shoot Will. And he was clearly oblivious to the fact that Will could now see him.

Will relaxed his body, moved the crosshairs of his scope slightly in front of the moving man’s head, and waited for the right moment. The distance between himself and the hostile was at least twice the effective range of the Colt M4A1, and Will knew that he would have only one chance of hitting the man. If he missed, the man would sprint for cover and vanish. His quarry appeared and disappeared through trees and was heading toward a large outcropping of mountain rock. Will decided that he had to shoot the man before he reached it. He breathed in fully, then partially breathed out before holding his breath. He waited. He shot.

The man slumped to the ground. Will’s bullet had struck him in the center of his head.

Will stood and turned back to face the steep incline of the mountain. “He’s down.”

“Good, but the others will know where you are now.” Roger’s voice sounded very weak. “It’s now or never. Save Lana. Get Megiddo.”

Will exhaled. “Roger, you and your men have gone beyond what I asked of you. You don’t need to stay where you are. I’m sure your injury is worse than you told me. Crawl back to the lodge. There are probably medical supplies in there.”

“There’s one bullet in my gun, and I’m not going anywhere until I have the chance to use it.”

Will nodded and ran farther up the mountain, occasionally stumbling as his feet hit snow-hidden rocks and branches. Its summit grew closer until he knew that he was only a few hundred meters from the mountaintop. The wind became stronger and brought with it ice-cold air.

He narrowed his eyes and tried to look at everything before and around him. He heard Lana’s words.

One day you’ll be here for me.

He squinted through the rifle scope; he moved his gun left and right; he ran; he walked; he crawled; he did everything he could to remain a hunter rather than a corpse.

He ran again and stopped suddenly. He crouched, raising his weapon. He could see them. The man still had his back to Will and was dragging Lana with him. Will focused the crosshairs of his scope on the man’s back. At this range the shot would be easy.

He thought about his father. He thought about the savagery inflicted on him by the man he now had in his crosshairs. He thought how easy it would be to quickly incapacitate the man with one shot and then to kill him in a slower, more satisfying way.

He held his breath.

He thought about the thousands of lives that could be lost if the shot killed Megiddo and his secret. He thought about Lana and how she would suffer at Megiddo’s hand if Will’s shot did not kill him instantly.

He lowered his rifle.

Roger’s voice sounded quietly in his earpiece. “The three hostiles are now together and seven hundred meters from the summit.”

“Roger, I’m very close to my quarry, but I need time.” Will took one step forward. “Try to make a shot. Try to draw the three men away from me.”

Roger sighed. “They’re nearly three kilometers away from my position. But I’ll try.”

Will looked through his scope again, but Lana and her captor were gone from sight. He cursed. He moved farther up the mountain.

He knew that the sound of the high-velocity shot had come from a distance, but its noise still echoed around the valley and over the contours of adjacent mountains. Will instantly dropped low, spinning around. He listened for nearly ten seconds before he heard Roger’s voice.

The CIA man’s words sounded labored. “I got him in the head. He’s dead.”

Roger had just killed one of the three Iranian men following Will. The distance of the shot, the adjustments required to compensate for elevation and weather, and the fact that Roger was injured made the shot remarkable.

Roger spoke again. “Damn it. The other two went to ground for a moment, but now they’ve continued pursuing you. I’m sorry, Will. I thought they’d turn and come back to kill me. Either way, that was my last bullet.”

Will cursed. “Okay. Keep trying to track their movements. Stay in radio communication. That’s all that matters now.”

Another rifle shot rang out from the distance. Will frowned. “I thought you were out of bullets.”

“That wasn’t me, but one of the two Iranian hostiles following you is down.”

There was another rifle shot.

“I’ve shot the two men coming after you.” The voice belonged to Laith. “The snipers put me on my ass for a while. But I’m back in it now.” He coughed. “I’m off the island and positioned by the lakeside.”

Will nodded. “I’m glad you’re back in the land of the living. Get to Roger and help him.”

Will sprinted up the mountainside for nearly a hundred meters before seeing something that looked out of place. He dived to the ground, brought his rifle up high, and raised himself to a crouch.

Lana was before him.

She was on her knees, her head was slumped. Ropes had been lashed around her throat, upper body, and legs, fixing her to a tree. Her hands were tied across her chest to form the shape of a cross.

He looked all around her and through the large flakes of snow that still fell slowly. They were on the summit, and with the exception of the tree that held Lana, the mountaintop was bare of life. He looked at her, his heart pounding as thoughts raced through his mind. He knew she could be bait for a trap. She could be a means to delay him, allowing Megiddo time to escape down the other side of the mountain. Megiddo must have been aware that Will was following him up the mountain. Whatever was happening, he could not leave her like this.

Will walked carefully forward, scanning to the left and right of Lana with his gun. He reached her, squatted, and lifted her head. Her eyes were closed. She was unconscious.

He looked at the hands crossed over her chest. Drawing out his knife, he began cutting carefully through the cords that bound them. He pulled his knife upward, slicing through the last of her wrist cords. The movement forced her hands toward him. He looked down and for the tiniest moment frowned.

Lana’s unbound arms involuntarily released two hidden grenades. The devices fell toward the ground, and in that fraction of a second Will cursed his own stupidity. Megiddo had tied her up in such a way as to kill both her and Will the moment her cords were cut.

The immense noise and light momentarily destroyed everything. There was no thought, no pain, no sight, nothing.

He opened his eyes. Or maybe they were open already. He thought he saw white. He sensed that he was suspended in nothing but white. He did not know if he saw or sensed anything real. But white was all around him.

Seconds, minutes, or hours passed. He had no way of knowing anything about time.

Then the white gradually drifted away and left other things in its place. Will’s eyes thought they saw sky, flecks of snow and land. His face was cold. He started hearing things. He started seeing things. He started thinking.