Chapter Sixty-Two
Tim waited patiently until the first man was within a hundred meters.
He probably could have tagged him from much farther away, but he wanted to lure them in, and he was hoping for a quick transition between targets.
There seemed to be seven fighters, and he wanted to take down as many as possible with his opening salvo.
What he found interesting was that these men were white, not Arab, and they were decked out in expensive-looking military gear.
They must have been mercenaries, but for whom?
Who the fuck would go through so much trouble to kill them?
It must have been about the city. No matter, he thought as he tightened his grip on the rifle.
They would die all the same, regardless of who sent them.
They exchanged blasts of gunfire and Tim reloaded his weapon with a fresh magazine.
He peered out just as one man was transitioning to a position of cover closer to the gate.
Tim caught him out in the open and sprayed him with several rounds.
The man collapsed, writhing in pain on the ancient road. That was three. Four more left.
He heard a clank against the outside of the door, followed by the sound of something impacting the soft dirt.
The former weapons sergeant didn’t need to look to know that it was a grenade, and he dove farther behind the gate as the explosion rocked the door and sent shrapnel flying through the opening.
Time to fall back, he thought, slinging the bandoliers of ammo and securing both rifles.
He ran across the expansive courtyard, making his way to the palace door, and set up in position.
He should be able to hold them a while longer as they attempted to cross the open space of the courtyard and hopefully take out a few more in the process.
As the first man came through the gate to check the damage from the grenade, rifle at the ready, Tim put a 7.
62 round through his face with the Mosin-Nagant, and pieces of his skull and brain matter sprayed onto the golden door behind him.
The number two man fired wildly in the direction of the shot as he fell backward out of the fatal funnel, swearing in what sounded like Russian.
Tim took the lull in fire to reload the rifle, then aimed it back at the gate.
“Come on, you bastards,” he muttered.