by Dean Murray
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 by Dean Murray
"If this goes on much longer, I'm going to have to kill someone just so we can see some real action."
Pitch looked like he wanted to cuff Mouth, but even Pitch had to think twice before getting physical with Mouth. It wasn't Mouth's appearance. Compared to some of the merc's that routinely worked for the Lieutenant, Mouth was practically a choir boy. Blond hair, blue eyes and a square jaw that had been known to lure in girls who really should have known better.
It wasn't ever the surface that tipped people off about Mouth, it was all the stuff just under the skin. Adam was pretty sure Mouth was ex-military, but if so he'd never made it through his tour to be honorably discharged. Anyone who'd spent time at the front knew you could get away with a lot when it was just you and your unit stuck in the middle of some forsaken bit of swamp, but Adam had never been in any unit that would have let Mouth pursue his more exotic vices, and Mouth wasn't known for his self-restraint.
Pitch, an ex-sergeant from the Marines, apparently decided he couldn't let the comment pass without a least making motions to rein Mouth in.
"Quiet. You're supposed to be pretending to be a hole in the night."
"Whatever, Pitchy. This is just another milk run. I signed on to get stuck in, not babysit abandoned train yards."
"I don't care what you signed on for, you signed on. That means until the Lieutenant says otherwise, you'll babysit whatever I tell you to babysit, or you'll be out on your ass again looking for work."
For a second it looked like Mouth was going to respond, but he settled for flipping Pitch off and rolling back over onto his stomach. It'd probably been that last bit that had pulled him up short. Even a sniper as good as Mouth couldn't count on a steady stream of jobs if he was stupid enough to piss of the few merc's with the kind of contacts to put real work together.
Mouth likely had warrants out in every state on the west coast. When you had money little things like the police being after you weren't necessarily show stoppers, but Mouth spent it faster than even he could bring it in. If he pissed off Pitch enough for the wiry, black ex-Seal to convince the Lieutenant to drop him, he'd have to turn to wetwork to pay the bills, and he wasn't smart enough to get away with that for long.
Satisfied that he wasn't going to have to worry about putting a round into Mouth's back, Adam rested his cheek back against the stock of his L115A3. The night sight currently letting him pierce the darkness, had cost the better part of five grand, and still was a fraction of the cost of the rifle it was mounted on.
It rankled more than a little that the Lieutenant had brought Mouth in on this job. If someone else had asked Adam along on a stateside mission he would have told them no. There was just too much risk of getting tangled up with law enforcement. The Lieutenant had told Adam more than once that mercs made their living on the fringes of civilization, and smart ones chose the fringes not in North America.
The call asking Adam along on this particular foray into lawlessness hadn't included an explanation as to the reason the Lieutenant was breaking his own rules, but Adam hadn't pressed. The Lieutenant had saved Adam's life six years ago when there hadn't been an upside and Adam had been his man ever since. He'd served as overwatch on the last half-dozen missions he'd been asked to join, and he'd saved the team's ass more than once.
.338 rounds were more than capable of ripping through light vehicles at the appropriate ranges. Bringing along Mouth and his .50 Barrett was both overkill and stupid. Adam just couldn't see any scenario where they were going to run into full-blown armored vehicles this go around. Even the up-armored SUV's some of the drug cartels used in this part of Arizona didn't justify dealing with Mouth's attitude, not on a mission Adam hadn't wanted to be on in the first place.
A burst of static signaled orders from the Lieutenant. "Our principle will be arriving shortly. Some kind of handoff occurring. Our orders are to keep him from being disturbed."
"Right. Like I said, a milk run. Thermals aren't picking anything up, and there's nothing but desert for miles. What in the hell was Union P thinking putting a yard all the way out here?"
"I'm serious, Mouth. Can it. We've got movement coming from this direction."
Adam resisted the temptation to take his attention off of his slice of the horizon and rubberneck. Pitch would let him know what he needed to know. The old man had served as a spotter for nearly two decades on more continents than most people could name without looking in an encyclopedia.
Instead Adam reviewed the layout of the rail yard. A single two story building with some kind of metal awning over the door stood just to the west of a central open compound. The snipers and Pitch had set up on the building since it gave them the most commanding vantage despite the blind spots created by the scattering of smaller structures surrounding it. The rest of the team was spread out to cover gaps between buildings and help provide eyes on the dead spots that the overwatch team couldn't see.
"Two vehicles inbound. Looks like SUV's of some kind. They're running dark."
Pitch's voice had dropped into the smooth cant of someone used to pointing out targets without startling his men enough to make them miss shots.
"Damn, everything's all happening at once. I've got a pair of semi's that just came around the hill. They part of the plan or do I get to do something about them?"
"They're expected. The handoff is supposedly container sized."