Read Online Agent Hill: Reboot by James Hunt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Hunt
Tags: Thrillers, Crime, Espionage, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense, Spies & Politics
Ads: Link
themselves and abandon their cover. Gunshots blasted and deafened the world around her. She lined up the face of the guard on the far right and squeezed the trigger. The bullet connected and tossed the guard onto his back, dead. The slide on her right pistol opened, signaling the empty magazine. While she lowered her right pistol, she fired the left and sent a bullet into the neck of the guard in the middle, then brought the Colt’s sight to the final guard. Just before she had a clear line of sight, a bullet hit her right leg, and she collapsed. Her shoulder smacked into the hardwood floor. She brought the pistol’s barrel between the wooden bannisters of the second floor and fired, the slide in her right pistol opening as the last bullet from her magazine ejected and landed in the right eye socket of the last guard downstairs.
“Sarah! Are you all right?” Bryce asked. His voice was panicked, loud, even with her ears still ringing from the gunfire.
Sarah checked the gash in her right thigh. “Missed the femoral. Looks like it went right through.” Her fingers found the exit hole on the back of her hamstring. She pushed herself off the floor with one leg, dropping the magazine from the right pistol. “Where’s Finley?”
“The only heat signature I have left is down the hall, third door on the left,” Bryce answered.
Sarah limped down the hallway, each pressured step on her right leg sending a gush of blood rolling down the side of her pants, the dark fabric blending with the oozing blood. She holstered the Colt in her left hand and wiggled the door handle. Locked. She rammed her shoulder into the door repeatedly until it finally gave way, and she barreled inside.
A scream followed her entrance. An old man huddled in the corner by his desk. The face was the same as in the file. Finley. He held both his hands in the air, his entire body trembling. “Please!” His words were nothing more than terrified whispers. “Please, don’t hurt me. I didn’t do anything on purpose. It wasn’t my fault. Whatever they told you,” the man whimpered.
“Sarah,” Bryce said, slowly. “Put the cuffs on him, and get him on the chopper.”
“Do you even know what you did?” Sarah asked. “Do you know what you were a part of?”
The man was crying now, tears streaming down his face, big sobbing pools of regret and sorrow, beseeching mercy. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Just, please! Don’t hurt me! Don’t kill me!” Each syllable that came out of his mouth wavered and shook, like the loose skin around his neck.
Finley was an old man, close to eighty, and his years of usefulness (if there had ever been such a time) had long left him. Whatever power he clung to was just greed. He had money, capital, and that granted him a false usefulness to the people around him.
Sarah circled him, watching him tremble. Standing behind him, she placed both hands on his shoulders. The cloth of his shirt was soft, the skin and muscle underneath warm and slick with sweat. “It’s over, Finley.” She quickly gripped his chin and gave a harsh twist that snapped his neck, and he crumpled to the floor. She waited for Bryce to speak, for him to say something, but it didn’t come until she had already marched through the house and onto the helipad.
“Mack wants you to come in,” Bryce said.
Sarah didn’t respond. Like the words that left Bryce’s mouth, she felt hollow and foreign. She looked down at her hands as they grabbed hold of the controls and started the chopper. They felt heavy, clunky, not like the hands she’d grown to know. “I’m not coming in.” Sarah pulled the radio from her ear and crushed it between her fingers.
Chapter 6
The dishes had piled in the sink, rising in large mounds as three-day-old dirty water soaked and rotted with the leftovers each dish contained. The TV hummed a constant background noise, and Becca lay on the couch, watching the images with glazed eyes. Ella and Matt played with a
“Sarah! Are you all right?” Bryce asked. His voice was panicked, loud, even with her ears still ringing from the gunfire.
Sarah checked the gash in her right thigh. “Missed the femoral. Looks like it went right through.” Her fingers found the exit hole on the back of her hamstring. She pushed herself off the floor with one leg, dropping the magazine from the right pistol. “Where’s Finley?”
“The only heat signature I have left is down the hall, third door on the left,” Bryce answered.
Sarah limped down the hallway, each pressured step on her right leg sending a gush of blood rolling down the side of her pants, the dark fabric blending with the oozing blood. She holstered the Colt in her left hand and wiggled the door handle. Locked. She rammed her shoulder into the door repeatedly until it finally gave way, and she barreled inside.
A scream followed her entrance. An old man huddled in the corner by his desk. The face was the same as in the file. Finley. He held both his hands in the air, his entire body trembling. “Please!” His words were nothing more than terrified whispers. “Please, don’t hurt me. I didn’t do anything on purpose. It wasn’t my fault. Whatever they told you,” the man whimpered.
“Sarah,” Bryce said, slowly. “Put the cuffs on him, and get him on the chopper.”
“Do you even know what you did?” Sarah asked. “Do you know what you were a part of?”
The man was crying now, tears streaming down his face, big sobbing pools of regret and sorrow, beseeching mercy. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Just, please! Don’t hurt me! Don’t kill me!” Each syllable that came out of his mouth wavered and shook, like the loose skin around his neck.
Finley was an old man, close to eighty, and his years of usefulness (if there had ever been such a time) had long left him. Whatever power he clung to was just greed. He had money, capital, and that granted him a false usefulness to the people around him.
Sarah circled him, watching him tremble. Standing behind him, she placed both hands on his shoulders. The cloth of his shirt was soft, the skin and muscle underneath warm and slick with sweat. “It’s over, Finley.” She quickly gripped his chin and gave a harsh twist that snapped his neck, and he crumpled to the floor. She waited for Bryce to speak, for him to say something, but it didn’t come until she had already marched through the house and onto the helipad.
“Mack wants you to come in,” Bryce said.
Sarah didn’t respond. Like the words that left Bryce’s mouth, she felt hollow and foreign. She looked down at her hands as they grabbed hold of the controls and started the chopper. They felt heavy, clunky, not like the hands she’d grown to know. “I’m not coming in.” Sarah pulled the radio from her ear and crushed it between her fingers.
Chapter 6
The dishes had piled in the sink, rising in large mounds as three-day-old dirty water soaked and rotted with the leftovers each dish contained. The TV hummed a constant background noise, and Becca lay on the couch, watching the images with glazed eyes. Ella and Matt played with a
Similar Books
