Kim Oh 2: Real Dangerous Job (The Kim Oh Thrillers) Read Online Free PDF

what?”
     
    “Now we work on sharpening your skills a little.” He pointed to the van. “Bring me the bag.”
     
    I carried the duffel bag from the rear of the van and flopped it down at his feet.
     
    “Let’s see what we got here.” He leaned forward in the wheelchair and unzipped the bag. “Take this.”
     
    He handed me the short-barreled assault rifle, then one of the magazines for it.
     
    “Just like I showed you, back at the warehouse.”
     
    After some initial fumbling, I got it put together and stood there waiting, the weapon filling both my hands.
     
    “This is just for practice,” said Cole. “Just to get you started. See that can over there?”
     
    “Where?”
     
    “Right there.” He pointed.
     
    I finally spotted a dented, rusty speck at the side of the quarry. Probably a beer can, from some teenagers’ drinking party down here.
     
    “Okay, single-shot mode. Just aim and fire one off.”
     
    “I won’t hit it.”
     
    “I know you won’t. That’s why it’s called practice. Come on, you’re wasting time.”
     
    For some reason, just holding the assault rifle and thinking about firing it set off an attack of nerves in me. I couldn’t even raise it up, but just stood there frozen.
     
    “For Christ’s sake.” Exasperated, Cole took the assault rifle out of my hands. Swinging it around, without even aiming, he popped off a shot. In the distance, the rusty can somersaulted into the air. Above us, crows flapped from the trees lining the quarry’s edge. “Like that.”
     
    He handed the assault rifle back to me.
     
    The can, now with a hole blown through it, had landed farther out in the open, so I could actually see it better. I raised the weapon and sighted down along its stubby barrel.
     
    “Come on,” said Cole impatiently. “Don’t be such a girl. Just take your shot.”
     
    That pissed me off. I clamped my jaw hard and squeezed the trigger . . .
     
    I couldn’t tell if I hit the can or not. I found myself on my back, looking up the clouds scudding by, the rifle still in my hands. Turning my head, I saw Cole in his wheelchair, shaking his head.
     
    “The deal’s off,” he muttered. “It’s off, it’s not gonna happen . . .”
     
    “It’s the mud.” I sat upright. “I slipped, okay?”
     
    “Sure, that’ll work. Maybe we could get McIntyre and his bodyguards to die laughing.”
     
    “Gimme a break.” When I stood up, I had limited success brushing the mud off my jeans, holding the AR-SF with one hand. “You said this was practice.”
     
    “Good thing for you.” He scanned around the quarry. “Let’s try a target Helen Keller could hit.” He pointed again. “There. See that scrap of plywood? No, over there . That’s probably about a yard square, maybe more. Give it a shot.”
     
    I raised the assault rifle again.
     
    “It’s easier with your eyes open.”
     
    “All right, all right –”
     
    A moment later, with more crows flapping and wheeling above us, Cole nodded in appreciation.
     
    “Cool,” he said. “That’s progress. At least you’re still standing. Now try to hit it.”
     
    Four shots later, with my hands already starting to ache, there was the oddly satisfying thunk of a bullet hitting wood.
     
    I lowered the assault rifle and stared ahead of me in amazement. “I hit it.”
     
    “Big deal,” said Cole. “Anybody could’ve made that shot.”
     
    I didn’t care. This was a happy moment for me.
     
    “Wipe that smile off your face.”
     
    Apparently, I was violating some professional hit man dress code by showing some honest human emotion. Gotta be all hard and stuff.
     
    “Let’s keep working . . .”
     
    By the time Cole let me take a break, the shadows of the trees were reaching across the quarry, setting the base where we were into gloom.
     
    “I don’t know if this is really productive.” I lowered the AR-SF down to my side. “Progress-wise, I mean.”
     
    “Don’t be so hard on