Read Online Running the Maze by Jack Coughlin, Donald A. Davis - Free Book Online Page B

anger growing from the back of his neck. She was giving him a headache. Ledford was violating every rule of procedure. He exhaled, but it was a fight to keep himself under control in this battle of wills. With the spotting scope in his hand, he walked back to the line and focused it on the target, until it loomed large and clear. It was grinning at him—two holes for eyes, one for a nose, and three in a tight V for the mouth. For good measure, she had put three more holes right in the in-center mass-ten ring. Damn. Shots like that from a standing position.
    “Keep watching, cowboy,” Ledford said. He glanced over and saw that she had picked up the rifle again, this time locked into a standing position but without using the sling, which drooped beneath the weapon. With two more quick shots, she gave the target ears, then lowered the weapon, keeping it pointed downrange, smoothly removed the clip, and popped out the bullet in the chamber.
    “You want to test me, then OK, but test me with something worthwhile. I could do this five-hundred-meter crap all day long and never miss. You understand that, Gunny? Never. Same thing at a thousand. I can shoot the lights out with pistols, rifles, shotguns, it doesn’t matter. I’ve been able to do it since I was a kid, and I love to shoot. Won my first turkey shoot while I was still in pigtails. Somehow, I was born with this peculiar skill in my genes, and the Coast Guard, bless ’em, taught me the technical side. I understand that you needed to see my capabilities because our lives might someday depend on my being able to take a shot, and now you have. I promise you that if I must, I will, and I won’t miss. Are you satisfied now, or do you want to see me pop an ace of clubs, or maybe you flip a quarter into the air?”
    Kyle looked hard at her. The new sun was heating the area enough that she had removed the watch cap and shaken out her hair. Her bright blue eyes were large and questioning. She looked like a schoolgirl and shot like an assassin, and the way she had stood up to him and the general was proof that she had no fear. He nodded his head. “I’ve seen enough. Put the weapon back in its case, Ledford, while I police up the brass. We’re done here, so let’s go get some breakfast. We need to talk.”
    They drove away, leaving the shredded target hanging there, smiling to greet the Marines who next used the range. The distant helicopter circled in the morning sky.
    *   *   *
     
    T HE I NTERNATIONAL H OUSE OF Pancakes was seven miles away, a boxy building with a blue roof, and a cluster of vehicles in the crushed-rock parking area. A sign on the door read OPEN , and they went inside. A booth was available by a window overlooking the parking lot, and they slid into it, facing each other. The menu was as thick as a book and as confusing as a nuclear launch code, with every possible combination of pancakes and eggs and potatoes. Three small bottles of syrup stood beside the fake sugar packets, and the laminate tabletop was still damp from being wiped down after the previous customers.
    Swanson and Ledford were the only military uniforms in the place, but a large man with a bristly high-and-tight haircut was gobbling eggs and waffles at a single table, his back to the room, reading a morning newspaper. He had not looked up. Ledford ordered eggs over easy and sausage, with blueberry pancakes. Kyle blanched at the amount of fat implied in that order and went instead for his usual fruit and cereal. Mugs of coffee soon appeared. Kyle adjusted his jacket and slid his M-1911 .45 caliber Colt pistol free, putting it beside his leg.
    “You made me start rethinking things, out there on the line, Ledford,” he said. “I know what you mean about being able to shoot and not knowing why you’re so good at it. I barely got through high school in South Boston because I was no good at math and science courses. Never had fired a gun in my life. Then in the Marines, when they issued