I was yelling to Miriam, not words really, more like incoherent brutal sounds. What I wanted to tell her was to get to cover and off the elevated road. I ran like hell and pointed madly towards the other side of the road. Father Bousquet was looking wildly around, at the dead guy, then at me, then at the dead guy again. I was screaming like a crazy person, trying to get Miriam to move.

But of course, she had no way of knowing about a sniper up on the hill. Her face was flushed red.

It was too late. I saw the flash out of the corner of my eye. The .50 cal round entered through the rear window, passed through Bousquet’s head and out through the windshield, like a stone dropped in a pond. Bousquet’s head ceased to exist and the windshield blew out. Then there was the terrifying delayed boom of the gun. The Volks veered off road and disappeared on the other side.

I didn’t reflect or think, just ran, sprinting directly towards the big gun. No time to pick up the dead guy’s ammo. No time to think. I needed to close them down, fast as possible. Eyes up and scanning. I saw something through the trees. The shooter was moving, which meant that he wouldn’t be in a good position to aim the beast of a gun he was carrying. I ran toward a mound of earth on the way to the river. I felt another shock wave as a projectile passed, then heard the sonic boom. I dove against the mound, took a breath and ran down to the river, thinking that I’d come around to the shooter’s flank.

When I got down to the water, underneath the bridge, I heard the whine of a ten horsepower engine. The small boat was three hundred yards up river. At that distance, the figures were silhouettes. The surviving shooter splashed into the water and clambered in. Looked like the guy with the beard, Grouse’s friend. Another guy stood in the back and hit the engine throttle bar. He spotted me.

I took a knee and got the MP5 up and sighted. I squeezed off a triple burst and the standing guy dropped. The boat started to spin. But then the bearded guy was up, seated and steering. I sprinted forward and braced against a tree. Took a breath and released it, steadying my hands. Then I saw movement on the river bank behind the boat. I lowered the H&K and watched the boat move off downstream.

One round left in the chamber.

On the other side of the river a couple of old guys were setting up their gear for a day of fishing. A dog was running around happily. They must have heard the shooting, at least the .50 cal. But they were clueless, as if they hadn’t noticed a thing. Lucky them.

Chapter Fifty-Seven