Burning Angels

54

The last twenty-four hours had been an absolute whirlwind. The kit they’d ordered from Raff had arrived as requested, and was now stuffed deep in the rucksacks they carried.

The one thing they’d forgotten to ask for was two black silk balaclavas to hide their features. They’d had to improvise. In keeping with their honeymooning cover, Narov had brought with her some sheer black stockings. Pulled over their heads and with eyeholes slashed in them, they were the next best thing.

Once Raff had warned them that the tracker had gone stationary, Jaeger and Narov knew they had their target. As a bonus, the building the tusks had been taken to turned out to be known to Konig. It was where the Lebanese dealer was thought to have his base, complete with a hand-picked contingent of bodyguards.

Konig had explained how the dealer was the first link in a global smuggling chain. The poachers would sell the tusks to him, and once the deal was done the goods would be smuggled onwards, on a journey that invariably ended in Asia – the prime market for such illegal wares.

Jaeger and Narov had moved out from Katavi using their own transport – a white Land Rover Defender that they’d hired in-country under false names. It had the hire company name – Wild Africa Safaris – emblazoned across its doors, as opposed to the Katavi Lodge’s Toyotas, which carried the reserve’s distinctive logo.

They had needed someone trusted to remain with their vehicle when they went in on foot. There was only one person it made sense to use: Konig. Once acquainted with their plans – and assured that the coming action could never be traced back to Katavi – he was fully on side.

As dusk had fallen, they’d left him with the Land Rover, well hidden in a wadi, and melted into the flat, ghostly light, navigating on GPS and compass across dry savannah and scrub. They were equipped with SELEX Personal Role Radios, plus headsets. With a good three miles’ range, the SELEX sets would enable them to keep in touch with each other and with Konig.

They’d had no opportunity to test-fire the main weapons they carried, but their sights were factory-zeroed to 250 yards, which was good enough for tonight.

Jaeger and Narov came to a halt three hundred yards short of the building pinpointed by the tracker. They spent twenty minutes lying prone on a ridge of higher ground, silently observing the place. Beneath Jaeger’s belly, the soil still held the warmth from the day.

The sun was well down, but the windows of the building before them were lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree. So much for security. The poachers and the smugglers clearly didn’t believe there was any real and present danger; any threat. They figured they were above the law. Tonight they were going to learn otherwise.

For this mission, Jaeger and Narov were one hundred per cent rogue; a law unto themselves.

Jaeger scanned the building, counting six visible guards armed with assault rifles. They were sitting out front, clustered around a card table, their weapons either leant against the wall or thrown casually across their backs on slings.

Their faces were illuminated in the warm glow of a storm lantern.

More than enough light to kill by.

On one corner of the building’s flat roof Jaeger spotted what he figured was a light machine gun, covered with blankets to hide it from curious onlookers. Well, if everything went to plan, the enemy would all be stone-cold dead before they ever got near that weapon.

He picked up his lightweight thermal imaging scope and gave the building the once over, making a mental note of where there were people. They showed up as bright yellow blobs – the heat thrown off by their bodies making each appear like a burning man on the scope’s dark screen.

Music drifted across to him.

There was a ghetto blaster set to one side of the card table. It was playing some kind of distorted, wailing Arab-pop beat, reminding him that most of those here would be the Lebanese dealer’s men. And by rights they should be half-decent operators.

‘I make it twelve,’ Jaeger whispered into his headset. It was set to open mic, so there was no need to push any awkward buttons.

‘Twelve humans,’ Narov confirmed. ‘Plus six goats, some chickens and two dogs.’

Good point. He’d need to take care – those animals might be domesticated, but they would still sense an unfamiliar human presence and might raise the alarm.

‘You good to deal with the six out front?’ he asked.

‘I’m good.’

‘Right, once I’m in position, hit them on my word. Radio me a warning when you’re good to follow me in.’

‘Got it.’

Jaeger delved into his backpack and removed a slender black attaché case. He flicked it open to reveal the constituent parts of a compact VSS Vintorez ‘Thread Cutter’ sniper rifle. Beside him, Narov had already started to assemble her own identical weapon.

They’d chosen the Russian-made VSS because it was ultra-lightweight, allowing them to move fast and silently. Its accurate range was five hundred metres, so less than half that of many sniper rifles, but it weighed in at only 2.6 kilograms. It also fired a twenty-round magazine, whereas most sniper rifles were bolt action, each round having to be chambered separately.

With the Thread Cutter you could hit repeated targets in quick succession.

Equally as important, it was designed specifically as a silenced weapon; it could not be fired without its wrap-around suppressor. Like the P228, it fired heavy, subsonic 9mm rounds. It was pointless using a silenced sniper rifle if each time it unleashed a bullet it made a deafening crack as the round went through the sound barrier.

The 9mm slugs were tipped with tungsten points to enable them to pierce light armour, or walls for that matter. Due to their low muzzle velocity, they lost energy more slowly, hence the remarkable range and power of the weapon for its weight and size.

Jaeger left Narov and circled around to the east, moving in a fast but low crouch. He made sure to stay downwind of the building, so the animals wouldn’t detect his scent on the breeze and get spooked. He kept a good distance from any possible security lighting, which would be triggered by movement, and stuck to the low ground and cover.

Jaeger came to a halt sixty yards short. He studied the target through his thermal imaging scope, making a mental note of where those inside were now situated. That done, he settled himself into position lying prone on the dirt, the tubular stock of the VSS nestling in the crook of his shoulder, its thick silenced barrel supported on one elbow.

Not many weapons could rival the VSS as a silent night killer. Yet a sniper rifle was only ever as good as its operator. There were few better than Jaeger, especially when he was on a covert mission and hunting in the dark.

And tonight he was about to get busy.