The range was so close that I couldn’t miss.
The Canadian Tac-50 was twenty-six pounds and six-feet of the baddest rifle in the business. Two of the three longest sniper shots ever confirmed as kills had flown out of Tac-50 barrels—each over two thousand yards and I didn’t have a single shot here over two hundred. I’d selected the beast just in case I had needed the long shot. Instead I had easy targets and massive rounds to punch with.
I dialed back my Schmidt-Bender scope all the way to compensate for the thousand-yard zeroing I kept the rifle set for. My bullets were going to drop less than two inches before impact at this range.
We’d all been scrubbed. There was no serial number on either scope or weapon. The only ID Mira and I carried was phony as hell and identified us as mercena
