Free Target Response by William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone Page B

at the other. “You’ll have trouble picking out Mister Kilroy now that the fire’s gotten to all of them.”
    “It’s worth a look. I’d hate to disappoint the minister,” Thurlow said, cool eyed, with a bland smile.
    “Better move quick then, Ward, before the crocs get them,” Krentz cautioned.
    “We’ll bring them alongside with a gaffing pole.”
    Something came out of the water and hauled itself up the port side of the gunboat.
    Sergeant Ajani was nearest to the interloper. He turned to face it, just in time to see Kilroy clamber up a line and over the side.
    Kilroy crouched on folded legs on the gunwale, dripping rank river water, clutching a panga. Gripping the hilt in both hands, he raised his arms high and brought them down in a blur of motion.
    The machete-like blade came down square in the middle of the top of Ajani’s head. It struck with a ripe chunking sound, like a melon being sliced in two.
    The blade came down at an angle, burying itself in Ajani’s skull to the eyebrows, which were lifted in surprise. Ajani’s pop eyes bulged as though they were going to burst from the sockets.
    Kilroy tried to wrench the blade free, but it was planted so deep in the other’s cranium that it was temporarily stuck in place. Ajani backpedaled, tree-trunk legs buckling at the knees. The panga went with him, wrenching free of Kilroy’s hands.
    Kilroy launched himself from the gunwale in a headfirst dive, slamming into Ajani and shoving him to the starboard side of the boat.
    Ajani was a big man weighing more than 250 pounds. His dead weight crashed into Thurlow and Krentz as they turned to face the newcomer.
    Ajani toppled, knocking down Krentz and Thurlow in a tangle of thrashing limbs.
    The impact jarred the panga loose and it fell clattering to the bottom of the boat. Ajani’s massive head wound spewed a fountain of blood.
    Kilroy snatched up the panga by the handle.
    Krentz, cursing, wriggled clear of Ajani’s massive inert form, shoving it toward Thurlow. Having almost extricated himself from the noncom’s dead weight, Thurlow was once again destabilized and knocked off balance, slipping and falling, his lower body being pinned under Ajani’s corpse.
    Krentz’s hand plunged toward the sidearm holstered on his right hip, drawing a squat, stubby Walther PPK.
    The pistol cleared the holster just as Kilroy slashed down with the panga, severing Krentz’s hand at the wrist.
    Still gripping the pistol, the hand dropped into the bottom of the boat. The pistol did not fire.
    Krentz held his maimed arm in front of his face, goggling at it as gore geysered from the end of his wrist, where it had parted company with his hand. He started screaming.
    T’gai snatched up Ajani’s assault rifle.
    Hamid picked up the fire ax. He wanted to get into the action but the others were between him and Kilroy, blocking him. He moved to scramble around them.
    Ward Thurlow slithered out from under Ajani, pulling a flat black .32 semiautomatic pistol from his pocket.
    Kilroy snap-kicked Thurlow, driving the ball of a booted foot against Thurlow’s jaw. Thurlow jerked the trigger as he fell back, firing a shot from his pistol that went wild. He fell back, banging the back of his head against the side of the boat. The pistol slipped from his hand, skittering across the boards.
    Kilroy lunged toward T’gai just as T’gai began to swing the rifle around to bring the muzzle in line with his assailant.
    They came together with a crash, Kilroy thrusting the panga deep into T’gai’s soft belly just below the breastbone. The panga ran T’gai through, its pointed tip emerging out of his back.
    Kilroy pulled the rifle from T’gai’s nerveless hands before the other dropped. Hamid charged, both hands holding the ax raised above his head. He slipped on blood, losing his footing.
    Kilroy squeezed the trigger of the rifle, firing a three-shot burst into Hamid’s middle at point-blank range, nearly cutting him in two. Hamid spun like a