The Enemy Within

Or were they provocateurs, law officers of some type on the prowl for potential troublemakers? That was doubtful too, he realized. Walker’s Landing seemed too small and isolated to warrant much attention from the authorities.

Halovic felt a sudden thrill the same kind of thrill he always experienced when his crosshairs first settled on his chosen target. It was far more likely that Burke and McGowan were two of the very men he had come hunting. He smiled slowly at the man sitting beside him. “Thank you, yes. I would like to shoot with you very much. It would be an honor.”

AUGUST 20

(D MINUS 117)

The red Blazer that picked up Sefer Halovic in the morning held three men: Burke, McGowan, and another man, much younger and in excellent physical condition, behind the wheel. He introduced himself as Dave Keller.

Halovic climbed into the backseat beside McGowan. He was already starting to sense the hierarchy involved here. Burke was clearly the leader and the man he must convince. The others would look to him.

Their shooting range was a fifteen-minute drive south of Walker’s Landing, well off Route 250 down a narrow, wooded private road. Frequent signs warned trespassers to stay out. Those closest to the highway threatened legal action against anyone caught violating private property. The notices further down the road carried more ominous warnings.

Halovic shifted slightly in his seat. He had been right. Whatever else they were up to, these men were not just being friendly to a foreign tourist. The shape of the pistol he carried concealed in the small of his back was suddenly reassuring.

Keller wheeled the Blazer off the road and into a long, narrow clearing separating dense woods on either side. More trees at the far end closed off the clearing entirely. The four of them piled out and began pulling their gear out of the back.

The Bosnian finished loading his rifle and straightened up. He looked down the clearing with interest. Burke and his companions had accumulated a wide variety of potential targets for their private shooting gallery. There were old oil drums, rusting refrigerators, and even a couple of abandoned cars scattered at varying distances all the way back to the distant woods. Most of them were shot full of ragged holes.

Keller nodded toward the optical scope Halovic had fixed to his rifle.

“You got that zeroed in yet?”

He shook his head. “No, I would like to do that now.”

Keller pointed toward an oil drum someone had painted red. “That’s two hundred yards. Give or take a foot or two.” He grinned mirthlessly “Danke.” Halovic dropped into a relaxed kneeling posture and chambered a round. This would be an easy shot. There was no appreciable wind, and he knew the precise range to his target. He took a breath, let it out, took another, sighted, and then gently squeezed the trigger.

A puff of dirt appeared six inches in front of the barrel and a few inches to one side. After making a minute adjustment to the sight, he fired again.

This time the barrel rocked slightly punched clean through the center.

“Damned good shooting,” Burke remarked casually from beside his ear.

“Ja. Well, I was in the Army,” Halovic lied.

“What did you do?”

“I was a sniper.” That much at least was true.

Burke smiled. “A sniper, eh? That’s interesting.” He glanced at the others briefly and then turned back to Halovic. “See the crooked tree just past that old Dodge? The black willow? Now take a good look just to the left.”

Halovic swung the rifle left slowly, hunting through the scope for the spot the older man had indicated. He stopped as a figure dressed in camouflage fatigues and hunched beside the tree trunk leaped into focus.

He took his eye away from the scope in surprise and glanced at Burke.

“There is a man out there!”

The older man grinned. “Not really.” He nodded downrange. “That’s just a dummy we dressed up. Adds a little kick to the target practice.”

Halovic nodded slowly. “I understand.” Then he allowed a smile to form on his face. “That is much better than shooting at old metal!”

McGowan slapped him on the shoulder. “You got it, Karl!” He tapped the Remington rifle in Halovic’s hands. “That.30–06 is nice, but how about handling something with a little more kick? You know, some real rock-and-roll?”

“Rock-and-roll?” Halovic didn’t have to pretend any confusion this time.

“Yeah. Something that can go off on full auto. Something like this baby.” McGowan held out an assault rifle a weapon the Bosnian recognised as a Chinese-made variant of the old Russian AK-47.

Halovic laid down his.30–06 and took the assault rifle McGowan offered. Although thousands had been sold in the U.S. as semiautomatic weapons, someone had reconfigured this one to allow full-automatic fire. He looked up. “This rifle… isn’t it against your American gun control laws?”

Burke shrugged. “Maybe. But this is private property, Karl. And we’re a long way down the road. So what we do here is our own damned business. Nobody interferes with us. Understand?”