Private Paris (Private 10)

His eyes went everywhere, from the youth in the headlights to the dimly lit grounds and the glowing windows of the nearest high-rise, where residents were looking out fearfully.

C’mon, the major thought. Let’s do this.

But they passed the first building without incident.

“Left,” Sauvage commanded.

The Sherpa rolled into a bare dirt common area between the first and second apartment towers.

C’mon, the major thought. I’m giving it to you on a plate. Do it or I’m going to lose my faith in—

The shot came from six or seven stories up in the second tower, and smacked off the hood of the Sherpa.

Defective bullets in lots slated for disposal have a way of not shooting where you aim them, the major thought in amusement. Especially when they’re shot from guns with faulty sights.

The 7.5mm cartridges in La Nana, on the other hand, were top grade, and its sights sharply calibrated. He aimed the muzzle of the maid where he thought the shot had come from and mashed the trigger.

The machine gun rattled and shook, spitting death at the upper floors of the second building. Spent casings flipped all around Sauvage as the bullets gouged the walls and shattered windows in the general area where he thought the sniper had his perch. In Sauvage’s mind, casualties were irrelevant.

There was a deep silence after the six-second machine gun burst, and then from both buildings he heard screams and wails of fear, grief, and agony that all melded into one quivering howl about the injustice of combat.

Well, thought Sauvage, don’t harbor fucking Islamic terrorists and this kind of shit won’t happen.

“Drive on, Corporal.”

“Major? Are you—”

“Take an S pattern through the remaining buildings, Perry!” he roared. “We have to know which ones need to be swept floor to floor.”

“Yes, sir!” Perry cried, and drove on.

Gunfire sounded in the distance. Sauvage’s radio headset crackled.

“We’re getting fire from the north,” Captain Mfune said.

“Engage,” the major said, hearing more shots within seconds.

As they rolled on, Sauvage watched the upper floors of the building he’d just shot at, and saw no one at any window, shattered or whole. That worked in his favor. No witnesses meant that his version of events would be the one accepted.

They rounded the far end of the second building and passed between it and the third, with no shots fired and no one watching out the windows. Even without cell phones, word of his coming had spread. Bullets had a way of transcending all forms of communication.

All remained quiet as the Sherpa drove slowly between the third and fourth buildings and then along the fourth apartment tower’s far side, which bordered a swampy area.

But when the Sherpa crossed the lane that divided the housing project in two, there was a burst of gunfire from t

he second building on Sauvage’s right. He saw the muzzle flash clearly as the defective bullets, shot from beyond the Sterling’s optimum distance, skipped harmlessly off the pavement.

“Hard right, then left, Corporal,” Sauvage said, already locking on the crosshairs of La Nana’s sights.

Perry complied without comment. The Sherpa tacked twice toward the second sniper, who was on the sixth floor, four windows in.

The major was about to shoot when he noticed a woman in a robe and head scarf standing at the window of an apartment on the third floor. She was holding up a cell phone as if photographing or videoing his actions.

Sauvage took careful aim and shot her first.

Chapter 106

FOR EIGHT FULL seconds, until the ammunition was spent, Sauvage raked machine gun fire above, below, and on either side of that sixth floor window where the sniper had been.