The uncontrollable anger caused Yager to lose his rationality.
Close-quarter combat requires precise coordination; it's a tactical principle.
But he couldn't wait any longer.
Footsteps sounded from inside the building.
"He's trying to slip away!"
A thought flashed through Yager's mind.
"Not a chance!"
He suddenly darted from the door and unleashed a storm of bullets inside, the assault rifle in his hand spraying a fan-shaped strafing pattern, bullets sparking off the stone walls, creating eerie lines of light.
For a moment, he was certain he'd hit the target because the room went dead silent, as if it had become a morgue.
A drop of blood landed on his tactical glove.
"You've made a mistake."
Song Heping's voice suddenly came from above.
As Yager looked up, an antique British military bayonet plunged into his right shoulder blade—this China man had hidden atop the stone beam above the doorway!
Crafty!
