Shadow of Betrayal

There wouldn’t be. They were all dead the second Quinn and Nate had seen the muzzle flashes on the screen. The assassin got the first three shots off before any of the men in the church could react. The range was not much more than thirty yards. So close it was almost cheating for a trained marksman. Kill shots, all of them. No question. The only reason there’d been a delay before the fourth man was killed was that the assassin hadn’t had a clean shot. So he’d waited a few seconds for the man to panic, and run for someplace new to hide, then bang. Four dead.

“Wait,” Nate said. “I think he’s climbing down.”

Quinn had reentered the trees on the far side of the pasture and was once again fighting the underbrush. He guessed he was about a minute away from the old church grounds. From this direction, he would reach the graveyard first.

“He’s on the ground, but staying close to the tree. I can see his weapon, though. Hold on, let me zoom in.” There was a pause. “I think it’s a Galil.”

That would make sense, Quinn thought. A Galil sniper rifle using subsonic rounds could be silenced effectively. Plus the weapon was light and easily portable. An excellent choice.

Ahead Quinn could see the trees thinning. Beyond would be the graveyard. He slowed as he reached the edge of the woods, and crouched down low. Less than ten feet away from where the trees ended was a ragged row of headstones. They were old and weathered, several to the point of being unreadable. Between the stones grass had grown high, and here and there a tree or a bush had taken root. But none had grown too large. Quinn guessed that every few years someone came out and cleared away the vegetation, a last act of respect for the dead parishioners who were otherwise forgotten.

“I’m here,” Quinn said, keeping his voice as low as possible. “Behind the graveyard.”

“He’s around the right side of the church from your position,” Nate told him. “Probably about your two o’clock.”

“Okay.”

“Quinn.”

“What?”

“Peter wanted me to remind you not to let him get to the bodies.”

“That’s kind of what I’m trying to do, isn’t it?”

“And … em … if there’s any way you can subdue him, that would be best,” Nate said. “Peter said he’s got a couple guys heading our way right now. Should be here in thirty minutes.”

“That’s a joke, right?”

“Would you like me to patch you through to him directly?”

“No,” Quinn said, trying hard to keep his voice from getting too loud. “I’m really not in a place where I can have a chat with—”

“Movement,” Nate said, cutting him off.

Quinn froze in place.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“He’s heading toward the church. He left the rifle behind the tree, and is carrying a pistol now. Looks like a SIG.”

Quinn stood up and weaved through the graveyard toward the church, the building’s bulk between him and the assassin, shielding him from view.

“I see you,” Nate said. “You’re both closing on the building at the same rate.”

Quinn sped up, moving to his left as he did, toward an opening that had probably once held a beautiful stained glass window. He knew from his earlier reconnaissance that the window would provide a clear view of the interior of the church. He crouched beneath the sill.

“Okay,” Nate said. “You’re there first. He’s stopped at the body outside the church. He’s checking the pockets … hold on … okay, he’s rolling him over and checking the back pockets … the dead guy doesn’t seem to have anything on him … okay, he’s getting up again … now he’s heading for the church.”

Quinn checked that the suppressor was securely fastened to the barrel of his SIG.

“He’s stopped just outside a doorway,” Nate continued. “It’s the one directly across from where you’re at.”

Quinn pictured the interior of the church in his mind. The window he stood beside, the door the assassin would walk through, the positions of the bodies on the sanctuary floor, the possible hiding places, the escape routes, everything. Then he took in a steady, silent breath, knowing what he would do. Peter was going to owe him big-time after this.

“He’s peeking around the doorway, looking inside … he’s stepping across the threshold and … inside … heading for the closest body first. Otero. Wait a minute. He stopped, seems to be listening.”

Quinn cocked his head, then he heard it, too. A car. It was coming fast from the north. No, not just one car, but two. Distant at the moment, but approaching rapidly.

“Car,” Nate said a second later. “Heading south.”

Quinn risked a glance through the corner of the window. The assassin was still standing rock still next to the body of David Otero. His head was turned away from Quinn toward the front corner of the church where the entrance once had been.

On the road, the cars continued to draw nearer. Quinn judged that they were less than two minutes away.