"Simon Hawke - Wizard 7 - The Wizard of Camelot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hawke Simon)

had
become so commonplace that the building's residents had all evacuated the
premises within moments after the sniper opened up, exiting at the rear of
the
building through the basement corridors without incident. After checking to
make
certain none of the flats in the immediate vicinity of the sniper were still
occupied, we proceeded with the drill to take him out.

We moved cautiously, but quickly. Within moments, we had a squad inside the
building. My partner and I were with that squad. My partner, Sergeant
Royceton,
was a hard-nosed veteran with twenty years experience on the force. A tough
old
bird, Ian Royceton could chew ten-penny nails and spit them out as tacks. We
moved up the stairwell to the fourth floor and carefully proceeded down the
corridor, toward the sniper's flat, moving from doorway to doorway and
providing
cover for each other as we went. Outside, our fellow officers were laying
down
some covering fire to occupy the sniper's attention and, hopefully, divert
him
from our approach.

We had fully expected to find that he had barricaded himself inside, and as a
result, we had brought along a battering ram and some tear gas bombs. To our
surprise, we discovered the door was not only unlocked, but open. It actually
stood ajar We stood so close, outside in the corridor, that from within, we
could hear the sniper firing his weapon and the periodic dropping of empty
magazines to the floor Royceton and I glanced at one another and no words
needed
to be said. We knew exactly what to do. We would wait until the next empty
magazine dropped and burst in on him while he was in the process of reloading.

It went off like clockwork. The next time we heard the metallic clatter of.
an
empty magazine falling to the floor, I kicked the door fully open and both
Royceton and I went in shooting. The poor devil never had a chance. Our
bullets
stitched into him and he jerked convulsively, then fell back through the
shattered window glass and down four floors into the street, where his
broken,
lifeless body lay bleeding on the sidewalk. A quick and efficient operation,
and
I breathed a sigh of relief that it was over and that we'd escaped unscathed.
Then I heard Royceton's sharp intake of breath and he said, "Oh, my God." I
turned quickly, my weapon ready, but it was not a threat he was reacting to.

I followed his gaze and, through the open bedroom doorway, I saw the bodies
lying on the bed, upon the blood-soaked sheets. On the night-stand beside the