The police must have already reached the café.

 

It had been risky. Done in a public place. And the shooter letting himself be

seen in the mirror? A rookie error? Or a calculated maneuver?

 

Because here we are, blocks away from the scene, in the middle of a dark alley

with both flanks exposed.

 

Puller pulled out his second M11 from the holster in his rear waistband. He

leaned into Knox. “Trap,” he muttered. “Keep your eyes and ears open and your

pistol ready.” She looked behind and then up ahead. “The woman back on the

street?” “Part of it,” said Puller in a tone so low only she could hear. “Most

people aren’t that observant when shots are being fired. Should’ve seen that.

She led us right here.” “What do we do now?” “We move.” Keeping low, he led her

twenty more feet down the alley, even as they both now heard footsteps behind

them.

 

They were in a pincers trap that Puller knew well because he’d used it many

times in combat. Whoever was back there had some military or at least

paramilitary training.

 

If whoever was tracking them had NV goggles and/or laser sights, this would not

be a long fight.

 

Which was why Puller did not intend to stay on the field of battle.