The naked edge

6

Hidden among the trees on the ridge, the spotter frowned toward the back of the lodge. The target and the woman were out of sight behind a barn

Interesting that I want to objectify him by calling him "the target" instead of using his name. Doesn't seem a day older. Kept in shape. Picked a damned good-looking wife.

You son of a bitch.

The spotter unclipped a polished ebony knife from his pocket, thumbing the blade open and closing it. "Target practice," he said in response to the gunshots.

"A handgun," the sniper commented.

"Yes. Sounds like a nine millimeter. Must be a metal target. Hear the bullets hitting it?"

"Accurate shooter."

"Oh, he's definitely an accurate shooter," the spotter said. "That's why we're up here and not down there."

The sniper counted. "Nine, ten, eleven, twelve."

"Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen."

"Large magazine. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. Hell of a large magazine. You know any handguns that hold that many rounds?"

"No," the spotter said. "After ten, a slight pause. Hard to notice. That's when the magazine got changed."

"Damned fast magazine change."

"Twenty-two. Twenty-three. After twenty, another slight pause."

"Yeah, a super-fast magazine change," the sniper agreed. "Well, I'm here to blast his eye out at seven-hundred yards, not have a gunfight with him."

Amid the shots echoing across the canyon, they heard an approaching rumble.