No, he was doomed to be a spotter on this mission. It was impossible to make a shot across those conditions.
Those were the second to last thing to pass through Corbin’s mind.
The last was a 10mm rifle round fired from one kilometer down, and eleven hundred meters out. The entry hole was a small, almost black hole in his forehead that began to snap his skull backwards as the bullet pulverized the interior of his skull in passing. The shockwave pushed ahead of the round literally liquified the brain matter, and when the round exploded out the back the explosion of blood and gore that blasted into the air created a grotesque mockery of a jet, snapping his skull and upper body forward again.
He went over the rail, already dead as his body began its long fall.
Jeremy `Mac’ Mackenzie lifted his eyes from the scope of his rifle, a satisfied smile gracing his face as the dot in the distance plummeted down the side of the tower.
“Nice shot, Mac,” Micheal Givens said, lowering the imager. “Thought the heat shimmer would screw you up for sure.”
“Naw. Had to do too much desert training to be fooled by that, Son.” Mackenzie replied, looping his arm around the strap of his rifle as he climbed down from the perch he had chosen. “Now come on and let’s tell the Major we’ve bought him that window he was asking about.”
“Right,” Givens agreed, handing Mac’s pack to him as the Sniper dropped down to the ground and then the two of them double timed it back to where the rest of the group were waiting.
“Done” Malcolm asked as they arrived.
“Yes Sir. One tango spotted.”
Malcolm looked back over his shoulder at the tower, “That would be the tumbling carrion we saw hit the central cone”
“Yes Sir.”
“Good.” Malcolm nodded, “Interpol, you people ready”
Anselm nodded, “We’re ready, Major.”
“Alright. Double time across the way.” Malcolm stated, “Eyes open, mouths shut. Let’s move.”
They ran, sometimes sprinting, sometimes jogging more slowly, all the way across the five hundred meters of open terrain to the greenhouse, using the only cover that was available to be had. From pylon to pylon, along the length of the monorail tracks they moved, taking cover behind each one as Anselm stopped to check the information from the American satellite.
At first the cover was sufficient, the angle they could be seen at almost nonexistent from the distant greenhouse. But as they closed, the angles became narrower and narrower, and with less than a hundred meters left to go, Anselm had to call a halt.
“What is it” Malcolm asked, huddled tight against him as the rest of the men pressed in closely against them both.
“Two men, approaching from the east.” Anselm replied, tilting the portable so Malcolm could see.
On the screen, the gentle curve of the greenhouse showed as a large spot that glowed warmer than even the surrounding desert. Within its embrace there were two vaguely warmer spots, both difficult to make out against the heat of their surroundings, but there just the same. Malcolm nodded, and quickly gestured to two of his men.
“Tavish, Percy, take them.”
The two men of the Australian SASR edged toward the corner of the cement pylon, their assault rifles leading the way as they glued the weapons to their shoulders and cheeks. They moved slowly, pressed tight to the cement, one crawling on one knee and the other above the first. At the corner of the pylon they paused, looking through the advanced optics mounted on the weapons’ rail systems.
“No joy, Major.” Tavish said after a moment. “Just some bushes. No target.”
Malcolm nodded, turning to Anselm, “If they can’t see the tangos, then the tangos can’t see us.”
“Just hang on a second,“Anselm hissed, “Just.wait. They’ll pass.”
Malcolm grimaced, but nodded, wagging his finger to two more men. “Sergeant, Teal. Other side.”
The two men nodded, being the closest in the huddle to the other side of the pylon they mirrored their teammates actions of a moment earlier and leveled their weapons from that side.
“Still no target,” Tavish said after a moment.
Anselm grimaced, then looked over at the SASR weapons. “Major.what weapons are you using”
“Standard issue,” Malcolm replied, “XM-90 assault rifles.”
“What about electronics”
“Not so standard. We were issued the latest generation Land Warrior systems to test.” Malcolm said.
“The American design”
“That’s right.”
“Trooper,” Anselm hissed, crawling over to where Tavish was crouched, “give me your weapon.”
Tavish glanced back, face incredulous. “Fuck you.sir.”
Anselm grabbed the man’s soldier, “Just give it to me, Trooper.”
Tavish looked past Anselm, like the Interpol man wasn’t there, eyes locking with Malcolm. The Major hesitated for a moment, then nodded imperceptibly. Tavish scowled, but nodded, and gave up his weapon.
Anselm took the rifle quickly, and examined the small computer system that was integrated into the weapon’s optics. Since the turn of the millennium, the United States Armed Forces, in particular the United States Army itself had poured billions of dollars into what had been termed the Land Warrior program. That was, a series of weapon systems designed to enhance the effectiveness of each individual soldier to the point where one man could be more combat effective than a squad had been previously.
The system had been, and still was, incredibly expensive. Expensive enough that the Land Warrior Weapon Systems, often referred to as Objective Individual Combat Systems (OICS), were effectively priced well beyond the range of most of the world’s armies. Only the United States military could afford to outfit soldiers with the full array of system components, and even they could only do so in relatively small numbers.
The individual components, however, had filtered out into many military and paramilitary organization the world over. Laser rangefinders were standard on many rifles now, along with the computer displays required to put them to best use. Smart munitions were in limited use in at least fifteen different military organizations, plus nearly uncountable paramilitary ones. Even the more advanced carbon fibre composite armors with their Nano-Fibre Musculature Enhancers were beginning to see use in British and Israeli militaries.
In just a couple seconds, Anselm confirmed his initial thoughts and nodded with satisfaction. The optics had a port that was compatible with the American portable he was using. He slid the computer into the port and the system synced automatically.
“Presto. One satellite aimed assault rifle.” He smiled slightly, then handed the weapon back to Tavish.
The trooper stared at the weapon for a moment, eyes glued to the infrared signal which was now overlain with a ballistic trajectory that updated with every motion of his rifle. He glanced back over his shoulder to Malcolm, and the Major nodded.
“Go to it, Trooper.”
“Sir.” Tavish nodded, moving back to place.
“What” Gwen looked around, “No! We don’t know that they’re.”
“Take the shot, Trooper.” Malcolm repeated.
“You can’t.!”
Anselm grabbed Gwen then, covering her mouth and pulling her down.
“We don’t have a choice,” He hissed tiredly into her ear. “We don’t have a choice, Gwen.”
Tavish, for his part, ignored her as he setup his shot in the fan shaped screen of the portable computer. Coupled with the satellite it was, without a doubt, the most expensive rifle scope he’d ever heard of, but the SAS Trooper just smirked to himself as he leveled the weapon around the corner of the pylon and watched the screen.
The trajectory line showed red as he swept it across the field of fire, flashing blue for a moment as he crossed the correct angle but at the wrong elevation. He lowered the rifle slightly until the line flashed green.