BooksBarbecue
Back Game of Snipers Save as PDF
Chapters (74)
  1. Cover
  2. TITLES BY STEPHEN HUNTER
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. PART 1
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. PART 2
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. PART 3
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. PART 4
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. 56
  65. 57
  66. 58
  67. 59
  68. 60
  69. PART 5
  70. 61
  71. 62
  72. Acknowledgments
  73. About the Author
  74. What’s next onyour reading list?

They pulled out a pair of splendid boots and set about putting them on their master’s feet.

“Excellent,” he said. “Now I will depart.”

“What should we do?” asked Rita.

“Ah—tell no one a thing. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Here, this will help.”

He cut her throat. The five-inch slicer, seriously curved to yield but a single, murderously sharp edge. It cut through flesh like butter, especially when guided by a sure, strong hand.

She fell, bleeding, choking, dying.

He turned to Rosa.

“Why do you do this?” she asked.

“Shh,” he said, and cut her throat too.

54

The ranch

Nick got to the ranch house as soon as it became clear nobody was doing any shooting. Mostly, he found guys dressed like frogmen at a gun show poking around curiously. They had the aspect of children at a new amusement park. Maybe there was a method to it, but chiefly it was guys who thought they might have gotten into a gunfight coming down to the realization that the gunfight had been canceled.

He went to the SWAT commander—Ward Taylor, of course—got a quick summary of the action.

“Those are the bodies?” Nick could see them in the position of the recently extinguished—that is, helter-skelter, limbs awry, grotesque and utterly still, beyond care or menace, pretty much scattered all over the place.

“We got six DOA in the big house. Three more outside. Maybe more as we check more closely. One you gotta see to believe.”

Taylor led Nick into the famous Hanson Ranch’s big, beautiful main room and pointed out a sack of man flaccid on floor in an elegant gray suit, silk shirt, ascot, perfect white teeth, and no upper skull. This sector of the room had been redecorated in Early American headshot.

“You sure this guy Juba isn’t secretly working for DEA?” asked Taylor. “I’m pretty sure this one is, or was, Menendez, the cartel big shot. That’s him. Look up and you’ll see his brains. Now, looking over here, we got a batch of high-speed operators, all with snails in their ears, good tac gear and high-end assault rifles, mainly M4s, with all kinds of flashy optics. The optics didn’t do ’em any good. All look single-tapped, center chest.”

“That’s Juba,” said Nick. “He’s that good a shot. Any sign of—”

“No, but we’re running another, more thorough search. Here’s the odd part. Two women, upstairs bedroom, lookers, naked, throats cut. Cowboy boot tracks in the blood. Not sure who that guy would be, but it definitely wasn’t our boy Juba who took out Menendez and the security people. The tracks led to a closet, the closet led to a secret alcove, which led to a spiral staircase which led to a tunnel. I’m betting this place is honeycombed with tunnels.”