Always Faithful

Chapter 15: Lightning Crashes

Drake looked through the scope of his rifle at a nearby compound. It appeared to be a residential home to some locals. There were children kicking a ball back and forth outside, a few women wove rugs inside the house, and two men that lingered just beyond his line of sight for a kill-shot. It had taken Drake and his unit two and half weeks to find this location, but they finally did it.

The men both wore white perahan tunbans, but one man had on a black vest over his. That was him, the Ace of Spades. As Drake patiently waited in his secure spot for over six hours – three floors up inside a nearby building – he caught glimpses of this man to confirm his identity. The scar over his right eyebrow was a dead giveaway.

The Ace of Spades was well trained. He knew to sit away from windows, stay inside buildings during the day as much as possible, and he knew to surround himself with women and children – a deterrent for his enemies not to bomb his location.

He was a sniper, so he thought like one. He knew what to look for to evade a sniper's scope and barrel, an assault team or overhead bombing, and he made sure to stick to every rule. Since they didn't know if the people accompanying the Ace of Spades were armed or not, in addition to the possible risk of losing civilians, having a sniper like Drake come in to eliminate the target was the best option. The Ace of Spades was good, but Drake was better.

"Is he still playing peekaboo with us?" Chuck asked Drake as he tightened the cap to a Gatorade bottle he just used to pee in.

"Yeah, the son of a bitch knows his shit," Drake replied, keeping a trained eye on his target. "All I can see is his left leg, and his hand gesturing every now and then. He's talking to the other guy in there."

"You want to give your eyes a break for a minute?" Chuck offered as he used his binoculars to scan their targeted area.

"Nah, I'm okay. Thanks," Drake answered, while watching the target stand up and walk out of sight. "Come on, you chicken shit. Walk your ass over to the window, and smile pretty for me, won't you?" Drake was growing frustrated and tired from spending nearly three weeks chasing the bastard, only to then have to wait over a quarter of a day for a him to avoid any clear shots.

"Status Report, team," a deep voice chimed in through their head set.

"Ace of Spades is still at the residence, sir. There's a few civilians around him, and he's not giving us the shot we need. Over," Drake spoke into his speaker.

"Any of those civilians on our watch list?" The voice asked.

"No, sir," Chuck responded shifting his glance toward a person near the front door. "We've got movement. More people are entering the residence."

Drake kept his eye on the last position the Ace of Spades was seen in. He had not returned to his seat. Drake hoped the commotion at the front door was enough to lure him back, but it wasn't and he knew why.

Drake switched on his headset. "Sir, he's got people flooding this residence. He's covering all of his bases to ensure he stays hidden. We won't be able to eliminate the target without civilian casualties. Over."

Drake and Chuck waited a long moment before their commanding officer spoke again.

"Pack it in, team. This isn't your day. Meet at the rendezvous point in fifteen minutes. Over," the officer told them.

"Roger that." Drake sighed as he pulled his face away from the lens. He blinked a few times to stretch and water his eyes after looking through the scope for so long.

"Fucking asshole. I really thought we'd get him today," Chuck remarked as he zipped up his back pack.

"Me too. He's a smart mother fucker, but we'll get him tomorrow. Now we know this is one of his safe houses." Drake packed up his gear, and grabbed his rifle as they headed down the stairs of the abandoned building they occupied.