Jaeger and Narov had moved out from Katavi using their own transport – a white Land Rover Defender that they’d hired in-country under false names. It had the hire company name – Wild Africa Safaris – emblazoned across its doors, as opposed to the Katavi Lodge’s Toyotas, which carried the reserve’s distinctive logo.
They had needed someone trusted to remain with their vehicle when they went in on foot. There was only one person it made sense to use: Konig. Once acquainted with their plans – and assured that the coming action could never be traced back to Katavi – he was fully on side.
As dusk had fallen, they’d left him with the Land Rover, well hidden in a wadi, and melted into the flat, ghostly light, navigating on GPS and compass across dry savannah and scrub. They were equipped with SELEX Personal Role Radios, plus headsets. With a good three miles’ range, the SELEX sets would enable them to keep in touch with each other and with Konig.
They’d had no opportunity to test-fire the main weapons they carried, but their sights were factory-zeroed to 250 yards, which was good enough for tonight.
Jaeger and Narov came to a halt three hundred yards short of the building pinpointed by the tracker. They spent twenty minutes lying prone on a ridge of higher ground, silently observing the place. Beneath Jaeger’s belly, the soil still held the warmth from the day.
The sun was well down, but the windows of the building before them were lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree. So much for security. The poachers and the smugglers clearly didn’t believe there was any real and present danger; any threat. They figured they were above the law. Tonight they were going to learn otherwise.
For this mission, Jaeger and Narov were one hundred per cent rogue; a law unto themselves.
Jaeger scanned the building, counting six visible guards armed with assault rifles. They were sitting out front, clustered around a card table, their weapons either leant against the wall or thrown casually across their backs on slings.
Their faces were illuminated in the warm glow of a storm lantern.
More than enough light to kill by.
On one corner of the building’s flat roof Jaeger spotted what he figured was a light machine gun, covered with blankets to hide it from curious onlookers. Well, if everything went to plan, the enemy would all be stone-cold dead before they ever got near that weapon.
He picked up his lightweight thermal imaging scope and gave the building the once over, making a mental note of where there were people. They showed up as bright yellow blobs – the heat thrown off by their bodies making each appear like a burning man on the scope’s dark screen.
Music drifted across to him.
There was a ghetto blaster set to one side of the card table. It was playing some kind of distorted, wailing Arab-pop beat, reminding him that most of those here would be the Lebanese dealer’s men. And by rights they should be half-decent operators.
‘I make it twelve,’ Jaeger whispered into his headset. It was set to open mic, so there was no need to push any awkward buttons.
‘Twelve humans,’ Narov confirmed. ‘Plus six goats, some chickens and two dogs.’
Good point. He’d need to take care – those animals might be domesticated, but they would still sense an unfamiliar human presence and might raise the alarm.
‘You good to deal with the six out front?’ he asked.
‘I’m good.’
‘Right, once I’m in position, hit them on my word. Radio me a warning when you’re good to follow me in.’
‘Got it.’
Jaeger delved into his backpack and removed a slender black attaché case. He flicked it open to reveal the constituent parts of a compact VSS Vintorez ‘Thread Cutter’ sniper rifle. Beside him, Narov had already started to assemble her own identical weapon.
They’d chosen the Russian-made VSS because it was ultra-lightweight, allowing them to move fast and silently. Its accurate range was five hundred metres, so less than half that of many sniper rifles, but it weighed in at only 2.6 kilograms. It also fired a twenty-round magazine, whereas most sniper rifles were bolt action, each round having to be chambered separately.
With the Thread Cutter you could hit repeated targets in quick succession.
Equally as important, it was designed specifically as a silenced weapon; it could not be fired without its wrap-around suppressor. Like the P228, it fired heavy, subsonic 9mm rounds. It was pointless using a silenced sniper rifle if each time it unleashed a bullet it made a deafening crack as the round went through the sound barrier.
The 9mm slugs were tipped with tungsten points to enable them to pierce light armour, or walls for that matter. Due to their low muzzle velocity, they lost energy more slowly, hence the remarkable range and power of the weapon for its weight and size.
Jaeger left Narov and circled around to the east, moving in a fast but low crouch. He made sure to stay downwind of the building, so the animals wouldn’t detect his scent on the breeze and get spooked. He kept a good distance from any possible security lighting, which would be triggered by movement, and stuck to the low ground and cover.
Jaeger came to a halt sixty yards short. He studied the target through his thermal imaging scope, making a mental note of where those inside were now situated. That done, he settled himself into position lying prone on the dirt, the tubular stock of the VSS nestling in the crook of his shoulder, its thick silenced barrel supported on one elbow.
Not many weapons could rival the VSS as a silent night killer. Yet a sniper rifle was only ever as good as its operator. There were few better than Jaeger, especially when he was on a covert mission and hunting in the dark.
And tonight he was about to get busy.
55
A light westerly breeze blew off the Mbizi mountains.
The weapon’s sight enabled Jaeger to compensate for bullet drop and wind speed. He estimated the breeze to be around five knots, so adjusted his aim to fire one mark to the left of the target.
Up on the ridgeline, Narov would have notched her sight two marks left and one chevron higher, to allow for the fact that the weapon was being used at approaching the limit of its range.
Jaeger slowed his breathing and talked himself into the calm and absolute focus that a sniper needed. He was under no illusions as to the challenges now before them. He and Narov had to hit multiple targets in quick succession. A wounded man could blow the element of surprise.
Plus there was one man – the Lebanese Mr Big – that Jaeger wanted to take very much alive.
The VSS made no visible muzzle flash, so the rounds would come tearing out of the darkness with little chance for the enemy to return fire. But one cry of alarm and the assault would be blown.
‘Okay, I’m scanning the building,’ Jaeger whispered. ‘I count seven seated outside now; six in the interior. That’s thirteen. Thirteen targets.’
‘Got it. I will take the seven.’
Narov’s reply had about it the ice-cold calm of a total professional. If there was one shooter in the world that Jaeger rated more highly than himself, it was possibly Narov. In the Amazon, her chosen weapon had been the sniper rifle, and she’d left Jaeger in little doubt as to why.
‘Targets outside seated around table, head and shoulders mostly visible,’ Jaeger whispered. ‘You’ll need to go for head shots. You good with that?’
‘Dead is still dead.’
‘If you hadn’t noticed, those outside are smoking,’ Jaeger added.
The glowing butts showed up like fiery pinpricks each time one of the figures inhaled. It illuminated their faces nicely, making for easier targets.
‘Someone should tell them – smoking kills,’ Narov breathed.
Jaeger spent a last few seconds rehearsing the moves he’d make to hit those inside the building. From his direction he figured three of the six could be taken out via shots through the walls.