Pestilence (Jack Randall #2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

shoot to make it into the FBI. The brief romance that followed was passionate, but had ended with their graduation. They both just had different paths before them at the time. Being teamed up with him years later had been both pleasant and stressful, but so far their past had not interfered with their ability to work together. At least not too much. Since then she had picked up her weapon only when she’d been required to do so.
    Her near-miss had changed her mind on shooting. The instructors here at Quantico were the best, and she had improved quite a bit in the last month.
    Crack-Crack! She finished off the clip with a double-tap and automatically ejected the spent magazine and reloaded with another she pulled from her belt. It was empty and the reload was just practice, but it was something the instructors insisted upon. Only then did she relax, and still keeping the barrel pointed downrange, pulled the clip from her new automatic. She laid both down on the pad in front of her with the slide locked back. The safety was built into the grip and already engaged.
    When she had first approached the instructors about becoming a better shot, they had all listened politely and then watched her shoot a few times. It was quickly determined that her current Glock was just a little too big for her small hands. They had tried her out on a few different models before she found her fit.
    The Heckler & Koch P7 was small, chambered for a 9mm round, and featured a built-in safety mechanism that was disengaged just by her gripping it. She could cock it manually or with the grip mechanism, and this worked perfectly for her as it took a lot of doubt out of her mind and let her concentrate on improving her marksmanship. It had been further modified for her by the instructors to fit her specific trigger strength and outfitted with tritium sights for low-light conditions. She had purchased two and was practicing with the backup today. Behind her was Dave, her favorite instructor. She pulled her ear muffs down around her neck and shook her long black hair back behind her shoulders so she could hear his critique.
    “Much, much better today, Sydney. I saw a few go a little right, so we need to get that trigger pull of yours a little smoothr, but other than that I think you should be happy with your progress. I may even take you out on the combat range and start working with you there. Let’s see how you did.”
    Sydney pushed the button on the side of the lane divider and watched as her target came rushing at her. Sometimes Dave worked the button while she shot, simulating a rushing attacker. It was a little unnerving at first, but she got over it. The targets today were standard silhouettes. Dave had eagle eyes that missed little, and she wondered how far to the right she really was.
    The target stopped in front of her and was backlit by the range lights. Most of her shots were center-mass—right in the chest, with a couple in the head when she had double-tapped.
    “See here?” Dave pointed to two holes that were on the outside line of the innermost circle. “There, a little right. We need to work on your trigger pull, you’re still jerking it after the first five shots.” The shots were still in the center and would have been lethal if real, but Dave was a perfectionist in a serious business, and if he said she was off, then she was off.
    “Okay. Any changes?” she asked.
    “No, I think more practice will take care of it. Your reload speed is better. This is your backup, right? Do we need to get the well beveled?” They’d had the magazine well of her primary machined to accept the clips easier. It helped when loading a new clip in a hurry or in the dark. Her backup had yet to visit the machinist for that alteration.
    “No. I think we’ll just practice that more, too,” she replied. Dave smiled, obviously pleased with her answer.
    His smile was replaced with a frown and she followed his gaze to the rest behind her. Her pager was