Private Princess

Chapter 32

Morgan, Cook and Lewis threw themselves to the ground within a half second of hearing the first round crack by. By the sound of the round’s low buzz, Morgan knew that the bullets were subsonic, and from a pistol. The fire was accurate, and so the firer must be extremely lucky, or within fifty meters.

No — firers, Morgan corrected himself, hearing overlapping shots as broken branches and splinters fell down onto his head.

“They’re over there!” Morgan said, calculating the location by observing the strike marks as the bullets thwacked into the trees.

Lewis sprang up and half stumbled behind a small boulder, her feet slipping on the wet soil. The shooters saw her move and sparks flew up from the rock as rounds ricocheted from its surface.

Morgan watched, heart in mouth, as Lewis raised herself into that fire and began to shoot double taps at their assailants. Thinking that her fire would distract them, he took the chance to bound into better cover, grabbing Cook by her jacket and pulling her with him as she scrabbled along on her hands.

“Are you hit?” Morgan asked her.

“I’m good,” she told him. Morgan felt his chest sag in relief.

“Change position!” he shouted to Lewis, and the police officer ducked. Sure enough, a few rounds smacked just behind where her head had been.

“Give me the gun!” Morgan called to her, crawling forward.

“Fuck off!” Lewis snarled back, rising from her new cover to deliver two double taps, before dropping down again and scuttling into a new position. “This isn’t Hollywood — I don’t need the Americans to save me.”

“Christ, she’s enjoying this.” Cook shook her head, crawling beside Morgan — without a weapon herself, the former soldier had never felt more vulnerable, or useless.

“Bloody right I am!” Lewis shouted. “Fuck off back home!” she shouted over the rocks at the attackers.

And perhaps they listened, because the echo of gunshots through the trees was steadily giving way to the hammer of the rain. Morgan looked through a hand-width gap between rocks and saw two silhouettes moving a hundred meters away through the foliage. They were not firing now, but one shape moved as the other held position and took aim. Either they’re military, Morgan thought, or they took the time to learn a killer’s profession.

Lewis was looking over the sights of her pistol as Morgan reached her side.

“This is gonna be a lot of bloody paperwork,” the police officer said, panting for breath.

“Thank you,” Morgan told her, feeling guilty that he had ever doubted the woman. “And now, if it’s all right with you, officer, I’d like to go get these bastards.”