The Unwanted Read Online Free PDF Page B

collar.
"Give me a constant update," he whispered. "I'm not going to be able to say much, so just keep talking."
"Got it," Nate said, his voice overamplified and crackling.
"You're killing me," Quinn said. "Turn down your gain."
There was a pause, then Nate said, "Better?" His voice sounded almost normal.
"Yes. Thanks," he said.
Two minutes later he came to a small open field. Though he was pretty sure the assassin in the tree wouldn't be able to see him, he kept to the dark shadows at the edge of the clearing.
"He's still in the tree," Nate said. "But he's moved back, closer to the trunk. Harder to see."
He's expecting company, Quinn thought. Waiting to see if his victims have backup anywhere close by.
"I still don't see signs of anyone else. I think he might be working alone."
Quinn wasn't ready to concede that possibility yet. He'd seen too much in his years in the business, seen too many people who had been killed because they underestimated their opponent. He removed the sound suppressor from his jacket and attached it to his weapon. Any shot Quinn took at this point wouldn't be to scare the guy, it would be to hit him.
"I've got no movement from the men on the ground," Nate said.
There wouldn't be. They were all dead the second Quinn and Nate had seen the muzzle flashes on the screen. The assassin got the first three shots off before any of the men in the church could react. The range was not much more than thirty yards. So close it was almost cheating for a trained marksman. Kill shots, all of them. No question. The only reason there'd been a delay before the fourth man was killed was that the assassin hadn't had a clean shot. So he'd waited a few seconds for the man to panic, and run for someplace new to hide, then bang. Four dead.
"Wait," Nate said. "I think he's climbing down."
Quinn had reentered the trees on the far side of the pasture and was once again fighting the underbrush. He guessed he was about a minute away from the old church grounds. From this direction, he would reach the graveyard first.
"He's on the ground, but staying close to the tree. I can see his weapon, though. Hold on, let me zoom in." There was a pause. "I think it's a Galil."
That would make sense, Quinn thought. A Galil sniper rifle using subsonic rounds could be silenced effectively. Plus the weapon was light and easily portable. An excellent choice.
Ahead Quinn could see the trees thinning. Beyond would be the graveyard. He slowed as he reached the edge of the woods, and crouched down low. Less than ten feet away from where the trees ended was a ragged row of headstones. They were old and weathered, several to the point of being unreadable. Between the stones grass had grown high, and here and there a tree or a bush had taken root. But none had grown too large. Quinn guessed that every few years someone came out and cleared away the vegetation, a last act of respect for the dead parishioners who were otherwise forgotten.
"I'm here," Quinn said, keeping his voice as low as possible. "Behind the graveyard."
"He's around the right side of the church from your position," Nate told him. "Probably about your two o'clock."
"Okay."
"Quinn."
"What?"
"Peter wanted me to remind you not to let him get to the bodies."
"That's kind of what I'm trying to do, isn't it?"
"And . . . em . . . if there's any way you can subdue him, that would be best," Nate said. "Peter said he's got a couple guys heading our way right now. Should be here in thirty minutes."
"That's a joke, right?"
"Would you like me to patch you through to him directly?"
"No," Quinn said, trying hard to keep his voice from getting too loud. "I'm really not in a place where I can have a chat with—"
"Movement," Nate said, cutting him off.
Quinn froze in place.
"What's happening?" he asked.
"He's heading toward the church. He left the rifle behind the tree, and is carrying a pistol now. Looks like a SIG."
Quinn stood up and weaved through the graveyard toward the church, the building's bulk