Harry looked down the scope of his RS700. Seven hundred meters down the scope sat a man called Demetrius Putin, a Russian arms dealer who was sealing a deal with a small terrorist cell inside the ancient city of Fez Morocco. Next to him Peter, his spotter, scoped out the area.
“That’s definitely our boy,” Peter mumbled.
“Good, cus much more of this fucking heat and we’d be cooked,”
“Not that we already are,”
“Too fucking right,” Looking up Harry watched as Peter, dressed in his desert issue camouflage, pressed down the monocular. “How long does it take to get approval to shoot someone?”
“Too long, I don’t like it.” Harry adjusted his rifle again and peered into the distance, centering the crosshairs on the targets head. His whole body itched as he watched Demetrius scratch is back. He’d seen this a thousand times before but always hated the waiting, he was impatient, being part of the force was usually up close and fast, but this, this was antagonizing.
“Task force alpha come in,” his headset stated as it came to life.
“Taskforce alpha reading loud and clear, permission to open up?”
“Granted, Meet you at extraction point at 1315 hours,” Harry lined up his shot, Waiting for the moment best to strike, they were on top of a three story residential block, his shot, due to wind, would be pushed to the left and high for a chest shot. The only problem was Demetrius was now leaning on a tree smoking a cigarette out of his view.
“The Fuckers Hiding,” Peter said as he watched. Three minutes passed and he finally walked out into the open, just as a black van pulled up. Harry lined up is shot and slowly squeezed the trigger. Then disaster struck, as Harry let the round fly a sun dart flew from out of the vans window. Sending Demetrius sprawling to the ground, harmlessly out of the way of the bullet. The Vans doors slid open and two figures emerged wearing balaclavas, they hauled Demetrius body into the back of the van whist Harry tried desperately to hit his target. The van sped off.
To Be Continued…