In Too Deep(116)

I took off my jacket, leaving on the ballistic vest I was wearing underneath. Walking as quickly and quietly as I could, I made my way over to a pile of boxes and trash that the previous tenants had left behind. I'd discarded the idea of using them at first, the material was nothing more than cheap wood that is often used in wooden box pallets. But, I wanted a good sight line and concealment. The ability to stop bullets would have to take a back seat.

Sophie watched me move with eagle eyes, then settled behind her rifle. She rechecked her sight picture, and waited for the buzz. We didn't have to wait long. "Yes?" she said, triggering the intercom box.

"We have delivery, Sophie White?" the voice said in near perfect English, only slightly Russian-accented. I knew the Spetznatz were good, but I didn't think their English was that good. Maybe these two boys were more experienced within the States than I'd thought. "Amazon?"

"Oh, okay. I'll buzz you in, just a second."

Sophie settled herself against the rifle, and slid her right hand against the trigger. I took aim with my Desert Eagle, and nodded. Sophie reached over with her left hand and pressed the buzzer, which we could faintly hear.

I had to give it to the men, they were good. The door flew out and both men came diving through the door, their empty boxes disappearing to reveal bullpup-style carbines. Nasty little things that fired a Russian-made fifty caliber round, one that was designed for subsonic firing. If it hit a soft target, the damage was catastrophic, but Sophie was safe behind her thick wall of steel and cinder blocks. I, on the other hand, was not so fortunate.

Tracking the two Russians, I fired quickly, the small cannon in my hand booming in the confined space of the warehouse. The sound caught at least one of the men's attention, and he turned towards me in mid-air, squeezing his trigger as he dove and flattened out. I knew the impact of his chest on the concrete would hurt like hell, but it would give him an extra tenth of a second to try and get rounds off in my direction. I immediately flattened and dove myself, hoping that Sophie's shots would ring true.

With the booms of my Desert Eagle, and the muffled thuds from the Russian's weapons, the sharp crack of Sophie's M-14 stood out. Her shot was perfect, catching the second man, the one not yet firing at me, in his throat, and his lifeless body fell to the ground.

I felt a searing heat on the outside of my right thigh as I rolled over the concrete floor, and I knew I'd been hit. I just didn't know how bad. The pain washed through me but was clamped down as my mind refused to let it alter my perceptions of the world. I could still see the guy, who was now on his side, rolling and firing at the same time. Damn this guy was good.

I felt a sharp spray as another round ricocheted off the concrete near my head, and the sting as a fleck of the floor cut my face. I sighted and squeezed the trigger on my weapon, cursing as the Russian operative seemed to move with almost psychic abilities, pausing his roll just long enough that my round bounced off the pavement beside him instead of smashing through his head. He had also rolled out of Sophie's immediate ability to adjust, and I knew she would have to pick up the rifle to re-sight and fire.

I didn't have that much time, I could see in his eyes as he brought his rifle to bear. In that instant, I was faced with two choices. If I jerked my trigger, I'd die for certain unless I scared him. There was no way I could hit him, and his shot would probably take me in the belly. On the other hand, if I took the fraction of a second to steady my aim, I could take him out, but at the risk of not getting a shot off at all.

I thought of Sophie.

The rest was easy.

My bullet took him high in the forehead, painting a gigantic Rorsarch blot on the wall behind him in red and grayish tones. His rifle dropped to the concrete, going off, and I felt another sharp bite of pain as the round clipped off my right trapezius muscle before flattening against the far wall of the room. It was over.

The silence was immediate and immense. Sophie came around, her shotgun in her hands to run up to the automatic door, but it closed before she could get there. The whole gunfight had taken less than the five seconds it normally took for the pneumatic hinge on the door to close.

"Sophie," I whispered, my Desert Eagle falling to the floor. I couldn't feel my right arm any longer, and I knew the hydrostatic shock of even the grazing hit on my right trapezius was disrupting the nerves to that arm. I only hoped that the feeling would return. Sometimes, in wounds like this, it didn't.

Sophie came over and looked at me, and at the blood already staining my pants and my shoulder. I could only watch in admiration as she quickly assessed my wounds and ran over to her position, where we'd stashed our medical kit. It was a full battle surgeon's kit, along with extra bandages and other things we thought we might need. Lying me on my back, she quickly pulled my armored vest off, and cut away my t-shirt to assess the damage, before repeating the process on my jeans. "Repeat after me," she said as she opened the kit. "Gunshot wound, right shoulder."

"G... gunshot wound, right shoulder." I knew what she was doing. By having me repeat, she could keep me conscious, and keep herself calm at the same time.

"Gunshot wound, graze, right outer thigh."

"Graze, right outer thigh."

"Stitches needed on shoulder, thigh can be bandaged."

"Stitches for shoulder, thigh can be bandaged."

Sophie nodded and pulled out the materials needed. "We don't have any anesthesia, so this is going to hurt," she said, taking out an ampoule of topical antiseptic. Cracking it open, she poured the whole thing on my thigh, sluicing the blood away and lighting up the entire area in fiery pain. I groaned from deep in my chest, which she ignored professionally while she applied a sterile gauze pad and taped it down. "Good, now for the fun part."