BLOOD GURKHA: Prophesy (James Pace novels Book 5) by Andy Lucas Page A
Authors: Andy Lucas
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In fact, it had seen decades of service with various previous owners. The age did not change its dimensions, however, and Shilan was now faced with a run of almost 30 metres along the port side before she would be able to reach the entry door. Most cargo and troops boarded the helicopter using the large rear ramp but it had been buttoned up tightly against the weather.
Her only option was to board via the crew door, and extendable steps.
Being fast and agile, Shilan should have been able to cover the distance in a few seconds, as her feet crunched assuredly into the deepening snow cover with no hint of slipping. She had no way of knowing the guard she’d just evaded was not alone. Her mind was on the door, and getting inside the machine as fast as possible. Only when she heard a shout, barely audible above the increasing power of the wind, did she realise her mistake.
Another one, she cursed.
She spotted the dark shape standing exactly where she knew the door would be; about ten feet behind the cockpit. In fact, the guards and Shilan had shared the same idea about using the helicopter’s innards as shelter. Although still diligently patrolling the perimeter, they always met back at the open door, complete with steps leading down into the snow. Every few minutes, the two men had been clambering inside to grab some respite from the deteriorating weather.
Now, Shilan had run straight into the second guard, who was standing at the foot of the steps. He was in her way and he had seen her approaching. Dropping her hand to her belt, gloveless fingers already almost completely numbed from the cold, she fumbled for the flap on her holster. The guard, dissolving in and out of focus in time to every gust of blasting snow, made no move to reach for the rifle slung over his shoulder.
Why would he? The figure that was approaching him had on a guard’s snowsuit and was obviously his companion. Must have gotten turned around in the storm and come back the same way he went, was the last thought to pass through his mind before Shilan finally opened the holster flap, drew the handgun and popped a bullet expertly between his eyes at a range of twenty feet.
A minute later, the second guard went to meet his maker in the same way; never knowing what hit him as he approached the familiar steps and received a bullet through the eye for his trouble.
It took Shilan three anxious minutes to drag the bodies a few feet away from the door and heap handfuls of snow over them until they vanished into the ground. The storm, as if siding with her, stepped up its anger and dumped a huge volume of fresh snow over the crime scene over the next few hours; hours in which Shilan secreted herself inside a small cargo cupboard in the rear of the helicopter, making a snug nest with a couple of old blankets she’d found in a locker. Before hiding herself away, she drew up the steps and secured the door, creating a sense of silent security as she banished the storm outside.
Strangely, despite the precariousness of her situation, Shilan found the strain of the past few hours, and the cumulative punishment of the past few days now served to catch up with her. Within five minutes, gun clasped in her hand, she drifted into a deep sleep as the night aged and the dead stiffened.
Fate, in its wisdom, was about to deal Shilan another helping hand. What should have happened was that the morning would arrive, the bodies would be discovered, and a search would have located her hiding spot. She would have fought valiantly but the experienced mercenaries guarding the facility would have eventually overpowered her and gunned her down.
Yet the cards did not fall this way.
Drunk though she was, Professor Sadie Munro’s acute hearing woke her from a deep slumber at a shade past four a.m. The storm was still raging, unabated, and she immediately panicked about being grounded by weather. Although still dark, looking out of her bedroom window, she was aghast to see eight
Her only option was to board via the crew door, and extendable steps.
Being fast and agile, Shilan should have been able to cover the distance in a few seconds, as her feet crunched assuredly into the deepening snow cover with no hint of slipping. She had no way of knowing the guard she’d just evaded was not alone. Her mind was on the door, and getting inside the machine as fast as possible. Only when she heard a shout, barely audible above the increasing power of the wind, did she realise her mistake.
Another one, she cursed.
She spotted the dark shape standing exactly where she knew the door would be; about ten feet behind the cockpit. In fact, the guards and Shilan had shared the same idea about using the helicopter’s innards as shelter. Although still diligently patrolling the perimeter, they always met back at the open door, complete with steps leading down into the snow. Every few minutes, the two men had been clambering inside to grab some respite from the deteriorating weather.
Now, Shilan had run straight into the second guard, who was standing at the foot of the steps. He was in her way and he had seen her approaching. Dropping her hand to her belt, gloveless fingers already almost completely numbed from the cold, she fumbled for the flap on her holster. The guard, dissolving in and out of focus in time to every gust of blasting snow, made no move to reach for the rifle slung over his shoulder.
Why would he? The figure that was approaching him had on a guard’s snowsuit and was obviously his companion. Must have gotten turned around in the storm and come back the same way he went, was the last thought to pass through his mind before Shilan finally opened the holster flap, drew the handgun and popped a bullet expertly between his eyes at a range of twenty feet.
A minute later, the second guard went to meet his maker in the same way; never knowing what hit him as he approached the familiar steps and received a bullet through the eye for his trouble.
It took Shilan three anxious minutes to drag the bodies a few feet away from the door and heap handfuls of snow over them until they vanished into the ground. The storm, as if siding with her, stepped up its anger and dumped a huge volume of fresh snow over the crime scene over the next few hours; hours in which Shilan secreted herself inside a small cargo cupboard in the rear of the helicopter, making a snug nest with a couple of old blankets she’d found in a locker. Before hiding herself away, she drew up the steps and secured the door, creating a sense of silent security as she banished the storm outside.
Strangely, despite the precariousness of her situation, Shilan found the strain of the past few hours, and the cumulative punishment of the past few days now served to catch up with her. Within five minutes, gun clasped in her hand, she drifted into a deep sleep as the night aged and the dead stiffened.
Fate, in its wisdom, was about to deal Shilan another helping hand. What should have happened was that the morning would arrive, the bodies would be discovered, and a search would have located her hiding spot. She would have fought valiantly but the experienced mercenaries guarding the facility would have eventually overpowered her and gunned her down.
Yet the cards did not fall this way.
Drunk though she was, Professor Sadie Munro’s acute hearing woke her from a deep slumber at a shade past four a.m. The storm was still raging, unabated, and she immediately panicked about being grounded by weather. Although still dark, looking out of her bedroom window, she was aghast to see eight
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