A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2) (27 page)

The shooter ran across the road and out of sight of
the police.  He stayed close to the fire and for a moment worried about the
heat and his own flammability even though he knew the likelihood of any petrol being
on him was non-existent.  After pouring the flammable liquid in the morning,
throwing his rifle bag complete with rifle onto the roof of the dilapidated
petrol and placing the wire on the lamppost as well as dropping off the
homemade bomb complete with fireworks up the road, he had walked home.  The
time allowed him some thought on his actions and did little to change his mind
about what he was going to do.

Once in his home he had burnt the clothes he had
worn in a garbage can in the back garden as well as the handmade maps he had
made of the area and any plans he had formulated, even the ones that he had
discarded from use.  He then showered again and once more shaved.  He doubted
that there would be any DNA evidence that could be used against him but he
would rather not take the chance.  However even if he did leave some, he was
certain there were no records of him on any database and he would not be
volunteering a sample anytime soon.

Once dressed in his camouflage clothing he collected
his weapons that had been meticulously cleaned and arranged the night before
and drove to the marijuana farm.  He fired two shots at the window before
throwing a brick and then a grenade into the room.  The brick ensured that the
grenade landed in the living room and he made calls to the police, fire and
ambulance services from three different disposable phones which he disposed of
in a nearby drainage grate.

Driving away from the scene of his first attack,
secure in the knowledge that if anyone did report seeing his car, which he very
much doubted, there was little the police could do to stop his plan.  He also
took the measure of covering his license plates whilst he was near the drug den
and felt comfortable enough to park only a couple of streets away from the police
station.  A short walk later and he was climbing up the ladders he had brought
with him, thankful that they were collapsible so as not to raise any suspicion
and placed himself on the roof of the petrol station and sat in wait.

The wait had been long but he knew that his prey was
coming and from what direction.  Even if for some reason they came from the
other two directions, he had the line of sight to make an attack but the
closest place for them to drive down was the route they had taken which made things
a lot easier.

Leaving his rifle had been difficult since he had
practiced with it for years but the sign of a good sniper was being able to
adapt and move from locations.  His next location he had set up the day
before.  Running down a small alleyway next to the petrol station he turned
sharply to his left and climbed over the fencing into someone's back garden. 
Turning to face the house, he slowly slid the glass doors open and entered.

Once inside he pulled off the mask he had been
wearing and the close-knit beanie hat and felt the cool air on his face.  The
room he had entered was a dining room that opened out into a living area.  He
closed the door and placed a trip wire rigged to another flashbang next to it
before walking through the hallway to the kitchen to see the unconscious form
of a middle-aged woman tied with climbing rope to a chair.  Dried blood stained
her long blonde hair and she startled slightly as he entered the room.  Trying
to cry out she struggled against the silver duct tape that was covering her
mouth.  Her eyes seemed dazed and cloudy; she may be suffering from a
concussion from the blow he delivered from his pistol the night before.

Drinking a glass of water from the tap he looked
around the room and started walking up the stairs.  He made his way the bedroom
in the corner of the house which faced the police station and offered a small
window facing down the street where the petrol station was located.

Lying on the bed was the male owner of the house,
who was bound with the same rope as his wife but lying on his stomach with his
hands and feet together.  He too had duct tape covering his mouth but unlike
his wife, who had been wearing a dressing gown over a negligee, he had been
forcibly dressed in camouflaged clothing.  The man had struggled with his
bonds, rubbing his flesh raw around his wrists and ankles but to no avail.

The shooter ignored him and went to the window
facing the police station and picked up the rifle that he had placed on the
floor the night before.  Breaking in had been easy in the middle of the night,
obviously the couple had not invested in quality security measures thinking
being near the police station would save them from any crime.  The female owner
had been making a cup of tea in the kitchen when he had sneaked in and knocked
her out with one of the weapons he had been carrying.  Sleeping in the living
room in front of the television, the husband was even easier to subdue.  Both
were retired and a quick check of calendars, phones and emails revealed that they
only had one appointment that day and that was easily avoided with just one
text message.  That allowed the gunman a full day to use what was the ideal
location to continue his attack without suspicion.  He did not intend to stay
for long but could do a lot of damage in a short space of time.

He arranged the stuff he needed in advance, moving
the dressing table beneath the window and finding a comfortable office chair in
a study downstairs, he set up somewhere comfortable to shoot the police
station.  There were only a few windows visible on the side of the building but
it did offer an unrestricted view of the street below with the damage police
van and car and the other road he had strewn with caltrops.

It was down that road he saw another police van, this
one of the tactical variety and he let it get close enough to the station to
hit the area denial weapons and swerve, struggling for control, before picking
up the small handheld device at his side and pressing the button.  It was only
a garage door opener but he had rigged it to ignite a bomb he had planted in
the car in front of the police station that morning.  The car he had stolen
from outside a drug dealer’s house the night before and he was positive that
the man would not be reporting it lost which luckily meant it became a weapon
and a poignant one at that.

The van was only yards away from the car when it
detonated it and the homemade bomb combined with the full petrol tank was
enough fuel to cause an explosion that flipped the police vehicle on its side. 
A giant plume of fire and smoke rose from the wreckage of the car, the
concussive force shattering windows in the area and cracking the rest.

Behind the shooter the homeowner began yelling and
struggling even more.  Turning slowly around to face the man, the gunman picked
up the glass he drank out of earlier and smashed it into the side of the man’s
head.  Although technically a civilian the man lived close enough to a police
station that the sniper’s anger had transferred onto him.  Glass sliced into
the unprotected flesh of the resident’s face, it dug deep into his cheek and
temple and was enough to knock the man out.

Shaking his head, the shooter was about to train his
rifle on the police station windows and the two police vans when he heard a gunshot. 
Initially he thought it was return fire on him but he heard a muffled scream
and realized it was from his booby trap across the other road.  He quickly
moved across the room and raised his rifle scope after opening the damaged
window.

Two uniformed police officers were slowly making
their way over the metal fencing to the playing fields.  Raising the rifle, he
took aim but they managed to disappear into the cover of the tree line before
he had a clear shot.  He was being more selective since he did not want to give
away his position just yet, and without a clean shot it was not worth pulling
the trigger.  One of the policemen had been hobbling so he kept his eye on the
area they entered in case they tried to get to the station for help.

He was about to give up on the two targets and go
for an easier shot when he saw the blinding flash of over a million candela
from the flashbang grenade he had planted on the petrol station roof, in his
peripheral vision.  Taking aim on the suited individual he fired but the man
was rolling and the bullet narrowly missed, hitting the roof.  Surprised at the
speed at which his target got to his feet, the shooter took aim once more and
breathed in deeply before breathing out slowly, holding it halfway out and
firing once on the running man.  Whoever the man was, he now stumbled forward
and skidded across the roof falling from view.

Holding his attention on the petrol station area he
smiled to himself, happy that there was someone else wounded.  His earlier
shots on the van had served a purpose to wound so as to encourage rescue.  The
more responders meant more targets.  Which reminded him that there were still
more people he could shoot.

When my vision was cleared enough for me to feel
comfortable and my hearing had returned to a degree that I could hear the sound
of a couple more shots being fired from the gunman, I had another look at my
phone.  When I took the earlier picture of the roof all I had been focusing on
was the mound that I had assumed was a man because that was my fear.  On closer
inspection I could see there was a shadow which could have been a person in the
house next to the petrol station.  It was difficult to confirm that because
there was light in the room from that house and I had switched off the flash on
the camera to ensure I didn’t give away my location.

With the phone still in my hand I crept around the
corner of the petrol station opposite from the road.  I stuck to the wall,
hoping it provided me some protection till I was at the other corner.  Once
again I took a photo but I couldn’t get a clear shot of the house because of
the roof that covered where the petrol pumps used to be.  I didn’t really want
to venture out and hoped the gunman couldn’t see me but I could hear more shooting
and from the angle I was now at I could look down the side street enough to see
the police van resting on its side and a new fire raging.

I crouched low and moved towards the stanchions that
kept the roof up.  In the corner of what used to be the parking area for the
petrol station was a metal shed area that from the faded signage was once a car
wash.  Bracing myself, I ran out to it and hunkered down in the corner of it
and the fence.  Breathing heavily, I waited in fear for a shot to take me down
but it never came.  The only rifle fire I heard was directed away from me.

I crawled on all fours to the corner of shed and
used my phone once more.  I didn’t take any photos merely using it as a means
of seeing round the corner.  Angling it upwards I could see into the nearby
house and every time the rifle fired I saw a flash of light.  My phone nearly
fell out of my hand though as it started vibrating.  I answered it on my
headset.

“I’m a little busy here, Rich,” I whispered, well I
hope I whispered it since my hearing felt like I was underwater.

“Glad to know you are alive, John.  I take it I
caught you at a bad time then?” he asked and even though I struggled to hear
his voice there didn’t seem to be any gunfire or explosions in the background
on his side of the conversation.

I leant against the cool metal, “Just been shot at,
the bastard has ruined a perfectly good coat and he’s put go faster holes in my
car.”

“It wasn’t your good car anyway,” now Rich said that
offhandedly and I never once told him that I still had my Jaguar.  I hated the
fact that he had information like that, “Do you know where the sniper is?”

“Yeah he’s holed up in a house opposite the police
station.  I can see his rifle every time he fires.  Originally he was up on the
petrol station roof and I thought I had caught the bastard but he booby-trapped
it with a flashbang.  Guy was bloody clever; he put those hand warmer things
inside a bag to replicate human body heat so the helicopter saw him.”

Rich sniffed on the other end, “Does sound very
clever, I also hear he has used fire to mask his heat signature and a bomb has
just gone off.”

“Yep. He’s also used caltrops across the road,
shredded the tires on a police car and then he wired up a handgun to a tripwire
across the street.  Obviously doesn’t want anyone getting too close.”

“Yet you can see his muzzle flash?”

“Yeah.  I can’t see into the house.”

There was a pause on the other end, “I don’t know,
John, this guy has been smart in using area denial weapons and explosives but
why reveal your location so quickly after you have gone to such an extent to
hide by not putting something to mask your muzzle flash on the rifle.  Even if
he had switched on the lights it would be easier to hide it especially if he is
deep within the room so as not be silhouetted.  It doesn’t sound very
professional to me.”

“What do you mean, professional?”

“First thing you would want to do as a military
sniper is not put yourself in a location that is difficult to get out of and
even if you do, don't reveal that position if you can help it.  If this guy is
using traps, John, be careful.  He may not have planted them properly and
therefore it could be more dangerous than even he intends.”

A wry smile crossed my face, “Don't know how you can
be more dangerous when it comes to bomb making?  I'll keep it in mind, mate,
I've got to stop this lunatic though, he's got a tactical unit pinned down and
from what I can make out he's keeping the police station under fire as well.”

“Have at him then, mate, keep me informed.”

“Will do,” I said ending the call and risking a
glance out at the house.  No rifle was directed at me or out down the road I
had come from that I could see and I scampered to the fence, still remaining in
a low crouch.  My senses were heightened which meant that when another grenade
detonated I jumped slightly.  It seemed to be from the police station so whilst
the shooter was distracted with that target I kicked the wooden panels at the
base of the fence as hard as possible.  Four kicks and the wood splintered enough
for me to crawl through the hole.  I was aware that I had made quite a bit of
noise but I heard the report of the gunman's rifle once again and a yell of
agony.

Sneaking down the alleyway I estimated that I was
out of the line of sight for the room that the gunman had been using and
climbed over the fence.  Running to the wall of the house I took my breath and
pulled out my pistol.  If I was going in to meet the sniper, I wanted to be
prepared.