“
It was too late to think about that. No time—no time for anything but action as the gate swung back. As Crawford entered behind him.
The Colt came out in his hand, a long black shape in the night. He saw his target’s eyes widen, the suppressor almost touching the man’s chest as he pulled the trigger. Once, twice—the .45-caliber hollow-point slugs smashing through bone, body tissue, deforming and expanding outward as they traveled through the body.
The young man staggered, but didn’t fall—staring down at the holes in his chest as if it belonged to someone else. Disbelief filling his features.
Harry could hear the slide of Crawford’s Sig-Sauer cycling behind him, a deadly cadence. The strangled cry as the older jihadist went down.
Taking care of business.
He didn’t hesitate, raising the pistol to put a third shot between his target’s eyes, the head snapping back from the impact of the round. No remorse.
“Clear.”
He glanced back to see Crawford standing over the body of the older man, his pistol aimed down—his finger tightening around the trigger. There was a loud cough, and then the SAS sergeant looked up.
“Clear.”
Harry keyed his mike, glancing upward toward the building where Hale was providing overwatch. “Bring the Range Rover around and keep it running. We’re going in.
”
”