by Dean Ralph

Created on: October 30, 2009

Here is chapter 4 of my novel-in-progress "Ghost Sniper"

The man looked small through the cross hairs. At 1700 meters, this was by far the longest shot he had ever had to take. He was confident that if he took his time and waited for the perfect opportunity, he would not miss. He couldn't, he never missed.

From this vantage point he had a clear view of most of the Village square. This way no matter where the target decided to stop he would be able to take the shot. The roof top was covered with camouflage netting, probably supplied courtesy of Uncle Sam. The sentries that were here, lay dead in the corner. Their throats crimson with their own blood. He had waited until the changing of the guard then quietly climbed the staircase on the outside of the adobe like building. The access road to the outpost was in clear view. It took the sentries almost four and a half minutes to make the hike. He had been here for almost four hours. That would mean just about five minutes until he would have to vacate the rooftop and make his escape. The target had finally taken his daily walk through the village.

His spotter had reluctantly agreed to wait at the edge of the tree line in case someone came from the other direction. The sniper knew his spotter was getting anxious, but being a Marine he wouldn't leave without the sniper. They would need to leave quickly through the 100m wide open field just the other side of the line of trees. From there it was a short climb down a 75 foot cliff and down to the river where a local trade boat was waiting to take them up river to the border. He didn't like the escape plan but it wasn't his decision. With any luck the Local would not be there and they would have to hump it out. A plan he preferred. It would take an extra two days, but in his opinion it was safer.

The sniper steadied himself and began to squeeze the trigger. Just before the point of no return he stopped and released the trigger. A woman had run up to the intended target. The sniper knew this may be his only chance but he would not kill an innocent civilian. In his three years as a sniper he had never had collateral damage. A term the Politicians preferred over accidental death or in the civilian courts, murder or manslaughter.

Keeping he finger lightly poised over the trigger he carefully watched as the woman took a dagger out from under her dress and drove it to the hilt into the man's neck. Blood spraying her face and torso as she severed the artery.

Realizing that

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