Page 130 of Tom Clancy Line of Sight
“I don’t think a pissant like you can kill a man like me face-to-face.”
“You’re about to find out.” Emir flicked off the safety.
“Sure, fire a rocket launcher, kill a bunch of strangers up in the sky. But up close and personal? Eye to eye? You don’t have the balls.”
Emir stepped closer, staring hard into Jack’s eyes. “Just watch.”
“See? You’re afraid to get close. I mean... real close.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“Are you sure? How would you know if you were?”
Emir glanced behind Jack’s back, checking his restraints. Then he stepped around behind the chair, keeping the gun pointed at Jack’s head. He pulled at the duct tape and shook it hard to make sure Jack was still secured.
He was.
“See, dipshit? I’m not dangerous. I’m tied up like a sacrificial lamb. But this little lamb’s got way bigger balls than you. Just ask Aida—”
WHACK!
Emir smacked Jack’s skull with the barrel of the pistol. Lights flashed in Jack’s eyes, like he’d been hit in the head with a steel brick, which he had.
Jack shook it off with a laugh. “Fuck you, douchebag. Get it over with!”
Emir stepped up and shoved the pistol in Jack’s face, an inch from his nose.
Jack stared straight up the barrel, from the bladed front sight back through the square notch on the rear sight, all the way to Emir’s raging eyes. The barrel trembled.
“Put it against my forehead, you little shit. Put it hard against my skull, if you have the guts. Then pull the trigger. But I bet you can’t. You’re too weak.”
Emir jammed the barrel against Jack’s forehead.
Jack felt the barrel’s cold, smooth crown pressing into his skin. He pushed back harder. Emir’s arm stiffened.
Jack’s eyes bored into Emir’s, his bearded face twisted into a smug, satisfied grin.
“That’s better,” Jack said. “You want that barrel nice and tight against my skull so the gun doesn’t flip back and crack you in the face when it fires.”
Emir’s grin faded.
Something was wrong.What was the American up to?
Jack shoved his head forward, grabbing Emir’s attention. “What the fuck are you waiting for, pussy? Your period?”
Rage flashed over Emir’s face, but then it faded, giving way to a slow, wide grin.
His finger squeezed the trigger.
Nothing.
Frowning with confusion, Emir pulled the gun back to check it, racking in another round and—
OOMPH!
Jack launched his boot into the Bosniak’s ball sack, crushinghis testicles with the devastating kick. Emir dropped the gun, bent over, and grabbed his crotch.
Jack lunged up in a half squat as Emir bent over, driving his frontal dome, the hardest part of his skull, straight into Emir’s nose, breaking it with a sickening crack and a gusher of blood.
