Zack scanned the rooftops of the neighborhood carefully. It was still early, probably way too early for Gentry to move, but he had wanted to arrive here in his position well before employing his weapon. He needed time to memorize the surroundings, to take a mental snapshot he could refer to at any point during his hunt.
He’d finished a narrow scan of O Street and had just begun to move away from the rooftops on 35th Street NW when he noticed a faint flash of light coming from a building on the southwest corner of 35th and O. Everything in the area, save for the streetlights and a few windows, was dark or close to it, so the flare had stood out, especially since it seemed to come from the roof of an otherwise blacked-out building. Zack angled his scope down to street level so he could see what type of structure he was looking at and saw the building housed a coffee shop, which was closed for the evening.
There. Another faint flash. He could tell it was definitely coming from the flat rooftop above the coffee shop. Like the last time, it was gone just as soon as it appeared.
With his nine-power scope he couldn’t see the exact source of the light, but in his pack next to him he carried a pair of one of the best binoculars on the planet. He reached in quickly, retrieved his Swarovski Optik SLC 56, and brought the long binos to his eyes. He steadied them by resting his elbows on the standing seam roof below him, and brought them into focus on the corner of O and 35th Street NW. Through the fifteen-power magnification he scanned the rooftop of the coffee shop where he’d noticed the light before.
Another flash, just to the right of his field of view. He shifted his binos to center them on the location.
What the hell?
He could just barely make out a smartphone, lying by itself, faceup, on top of the roof, slightly angled up towards Zack’s hide.
In seconds he saw another flash, and realized the intermittent lights were due to incoming text messages.
He sighed. He’d gotten his hopes up for nothing. It looked like some asshole had thrown the phone from the street up onto the roof, God knows why, and now someone else was texting the owner.
Zack started to put his binos up and return to the search, but he paused a moment. Inside his pack he put his hand around his spotter’s scope, already affixed to a tiny tripod. On a whim he pulled it out, set it up next to his rifle, and peered through it. It took him several seconds to line it up with the rooftop, and then zoom its variable 125-power magnification to the smartphone, but when he did, it was like he was looking at the screen from a distance of only one and a half yards. He realized he’d be able to read any more texts that came through.
Just then, the phone flashed. Hightower squinted into the eyecup of his spotter’s scope, straining to see the text message.
How’s it hanging, Zack? You still got that obnoxious 125x scope?
Slowly Zack Hightower pulled his eye out of the cup of the spotter’s scope, and he placed his forehead on the cold metal roof. “You’re right up here with me, aren’t you, Six?”
From ten yards behind him Hightower heard a voice he knew well. “Figured I’d find some asshole up here. Can’t say I expected you. Thought you were dead.”
Zack’s elbows were tight under his body, his forehead still lying flat on the roof. While keeping his arms perfectly still, he moved the fingers of his right hand under the collar of his black tunic. He took hold of a throwing knife attached to a necklace, but he did not pull it free from its sheath. Zack said, “Just up here hunting old ghosts, bro.”
“Me, too,” replied Court. “I’ve got a gun on you. In case you’ve forgotten, I don’t miss very often. Whatever you are thinking about doing, just know that.”
Zack nodded to himself, then he said, “I figure I’ve got a fifty-fifty chance.”
“You give yourself too much credit.”
Zack shrugged, then he launched his body to the right by pressing his left arm and left knee into the roof with all his might. Court fired a single suppressed round, and the bullet slammed into the midsection of Zack’s Kevlar chest protection just as he rolled onto his back. Zack’s right arm shot down from his neck. In one motion he yanked the folding knife free of the scabbard, the scabbard itself opened the blade, and he hurled it across the dark roof in the direction of the flash of gunfire. Zack saw his target react, contorting his body to the left, and the spinning knife flew just past Court’s face, missing him by less than a foot.
Zack absorbed the baseball bat punch to the solar plexus from the round hitting his Kevlar, and he snatched his HK pistol out of the drop holster on his right hip. He brought it up to fire on his target, just in time to see the dark figure tumble backwards, down onto the tiles of the roof. He heard the pistol bounce along on its own, clanging down and then off of the seven-story building.