“Shut up Mankowsic, you want those dirtbags to hear you?”
Mankowsic smiled, only Chief Tillman could dead-pan such a ridiculous statement, after all they were a sniper detail over eight hundred metres from the ranch house that they were covering; unless the perps were pointing a laser mic right at them, his low whisper was not going to be detected.
He checked his notes again, re-measured the range, re-calculated the wind shear and then turned back to the Chief, who was checking his sights and double checking the rifle’s action. He was about to crack a joke when the radio crackled in their ears;
“All positions, target exiting North East Corner. Fire Team Alpha provide cover as required, extraction team are going in for snatch and grab.”
“Mankowsic. Ranges for the North East Corner.”
“Aye Chief. Eight hundred, twenty-nine yards, three degree shift for wind. Sights free, Chief.”
Tillman flipped open the sight covers and settled into the firing position.
They waited.
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