Free Echo Six: Black Ops 6 - Battle for Beirut by Eric Meyer Page B

breathtaking, and Talley had to keep him on a tight rein. More than once, he'd been tempted to dismiss him from the unit. There'd been times when he thought he might need to shoot him, to stop him killing innocent bystanders. So far, it hadn't been necessary, but he constantly had to remind himself to keep a check on the man's savagery.
    "Don't kill anyone, Heinrich. If necessary, a gentle tap on the head to knock them out, and I mean gentle."
    He heard the trooper grumble an objection, and he ignored it. So far, Buchmann had always obeyed orders, albeit reluctantly at times. When he ceased to obey orders, it may be the time to put a bullet through his head, to prevent him going on an orgy of destruction.
    They reached the roof, several times almost slipping on piles of debris and garbage that lay strewn on the steps. The stench was terrible, a mix of rotting food, urine, and feces. When he pushed open the door to the roof, he felt relief at being able to take a breath of fresh air.
    How can these people live like this?
    They were hidden from the Hezbollah building by brick built ventilator shafts. He signed to Buchmann to hold position while he went forward. The light was still poor, and he couldn't see the sentry until a shadow moved, and he had him. Just as Goldstein said, he was lurking next to the elevator shaft. The distance was two hundred meters from where he crouched, and there was almost no cover on the intervening rooftops.
    He called for Buchmann to come up to the roof, and they crouched down together. The German measured distances and angles, and turned to Talley.
    "It's a long shot."
    They both knew there was only one way to take out the sentry, a shot from one of their suppressed assault rifles. Buchmann carried an HK 416, with the shorter 10-inch barrel. It had an effective range and accuracy that was little different from Talley's MP7, but there was a difference. Talley was the better shot, and the tiny 4.6mm rounds would pierce body armor.
    "We don't have any choice," he replied, "Be ready to run as soon as he's down."
    "Copy that."
    He lay prone and rested the barrel of his rifle on the line of bricks cemented to the top of the roof. It was as stable a shooting stand as he could hope for, and he sighted on the man on the roof. He was about to take the shot when a strident clamor sounded from somewhere nearby. He took his finger off the trigger. It was only a muezzin calling the faithful to prayer.
    He calmed himself and prepared to take the shot. The man moved, probably to stretch his legs, so perhaps the interruption had been opportune. The sentry settled back down and was still. Talley tested the wind, carefully aimed, and took up the pressure on the trigger.
    The thump of the shot sounded loud in the quiet of the dawn. The sentry spun around; obviously the bullet had found its target. As Talley looked through the optical sight, seeing the red dot of the laser-aiming module moving around the target’s body, the face came into focus. He was still alive. The sentry was maybe twenty years old, with the inevitable scraggly beard. Talley could even see his teeth through the optics as the victim tensed and sucked in air, ready to scream; teeth that were brown and rotten, apart from the two front molars lit up by the splash of red laser light. He fired, once, twice, and before the man went down, saw the blood and tissue fly out as his first bullet and then the second struck the target. He jumped to his feet.
    “Let’s go. Keep alert. There may be other sentries.”
    “Roger that.”
    He raced away across the rooftops, his feet barely touching the dusty concrete. Between two of the buildings there was a wide gap. He didn’t even stop to think, just rushed forward and jumped. He landed with inches to spare, and Buchmann grunted beside him as his heavy body smashed into the parapet. He started to slip back.
    “Boss.”
    Even in deep trouble, he’d only spoken in a whisper. He whirled and gripped the