The Gathering Dead (40 page)

Jerry Fletcher’s voice was clipped but even. “Shotgun Six, Hammer Two-Six, roger all.”

“Time for some shootin’,” Otis said, as he stretched one last final time. “Then hopefully, it’ll be time for some countin’.”

“Blessed are the beasts with the one track mind,” Hackett said. “You ready to line up on some targets?”

Despite everything, despite all the razzing he took for his weight, no one could ever pretend that Otis Johnson was anything but a cold-hearted predator. As he looked through the M24’s telescopic sight, his index finger moved from the trigger guard to the trigger itself as the first red Range Rover came around the bend. His voice was barely more than a whisper when he spoke.

“Oh yeah…”