Scorpion: A Covert Ops Novel (Second Edition)

Scorpion: A Covert Ops Novel (Second Edition) by Ross Sidor Page B

Book: Scorpion: A Covert Ops Novel (Second Edition) by Ross Sidor Read Free Book Online
Authors: Ross Sidor
Ads: Link
slip.
    Avery leaned up
against his door, unlocked it, and gripped his left hand around the latch. He
leaned forward to look over the driver’s shoulder, his eyes fixated on the road
ahead, looking out for what was around and potential obstacles. Gerald was
getting into position as well, to shut the door and move the JIB into position
as Avery exited the vehicle.
    The marine
decreased speed, rolled through the intersection, and steered the Forerunner
through the left-hand turn.
    Avery scanned
the street ahead and looked for an area to land, a spot clear of street signs,
holes, curbs, and parked vehicles. The ground was all pavement or concrete, so
there was nothing softer like grass or soil to aim for, but there were plenty
of trees up ahead—planetrees with long and thin stumps were everywhere in
Dushanbe—that would make good cover.
    The Forerunner
was doing twenty-five miles per hour. That meant Avery’s body would travel
approximately two-hundred feet at the same speed when he left the vehicle
before hitting the ground. It was going to hurt. There was no way getting around
that. He came prepared. He wore two layered t-shirts beneath a heavy sweatshirt
and had on kneepads underneath thick utility pants.
    He sat on the
edge of his seat and leaned his weight against the door and angled his body
forward, so that when he left the Forerunner, he’d roll away from the vehicle
and the direction of traffic.
    The marine decelerated
as much as he could without interfering with the flow of traffic and drawing
attention, maybe twenty miles per hour. A complete stop would be ideal or just
a slow roll or pulling over to the side, and then quickly stepping out of the
car, but that wasn’t feasible with KGB-lite wanna-bes less than a hundred feet
behind and seconds away from turning and having eyes on the Forerunner.
    Avery locked
eyes on his intended landing spot and waited until the Forerunner was a
five-second count away. Then he yanked the latch and pushed the door open,
keeping one hand on it so that the thing wouldn’t swing back and smack him as
he jumped.  He lifted his ass off the seat, lowered his head, and crossed his
arms across his chest, hugging his duffel bag tight against his body, with his
knuckles pressed into his shoulders. He sprung off his feet and out of the
Forerunner, facing in the direction in which the SUV travelled.
    He struck the
pavement hard, letting out an involuntarily grunt, and rolled, directing his
body away from the oncoming trailer truck, off the street, and toward the line
of trees. He kept his arms tucked around him, chin down and neck tight so that
he didn’t bash his head against the concrete. He rolled through the pain of the
impact and didn’t stop moving until he reached the copse of tall planetrees.
    Looking over the
tree trunk, he saw the taillights of the Forerunner, and the door was already
pulled shut.
    Avery sat up on
his haunches and leaned his back against the tree. He turned his head left and soon
saw the taillights of the trailer truck, followed seconds later by another pair
of lights, belonging to a mid-size sedan and thought that was the GKNB car. Traffic
continued down the street. He waited and didn’t observe any of the same
vehicles coming back around or making a second pass.
    As the effect of
the adrenaline diminished and his sensory input returned to real-time, Avery
became aware of blunt pain in his lift side and the ache in his right shoulder
and the stinging sensation of the little cuts and scrapes in his knuckles and
the backs of his hands, and he felt suddenly exhausted.
    He hopped onto
his feet, brushed off his pants and sweatshirt, and started walking. Two blocks
later, he hailed the first cab he saw. He gave the driver directions to the
rendezvous point where he was to be picked up by one of Poacher’s crew. Along
the way, he switched cabs twice, taking a few walks in between, satisfied that
he wasn’t being followed.
    He hoped the
drop with his kit went as

Similar Books

You Got Me

Mercy Amare

Mortal Causes

Ian Rankin

Promised

Caragh M. O'brien