| Author: | Robert F. Burgess | ISBN: | 1230000293724 |
| Publisher: | Spyglass Publications | Publication: | September 10, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Robert F. Burgess |
| ISBN: | 1230000293724 |
| Publisher: | Spyglass Publications |
| Publication: | September 10, 2014 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
From the story:
Squinting through his cigar smoke that hung like a gray fog over his drab gray desk Colonel Radar Ryan decided to hold off on the bad news.
“You had a different name last time we talked,” he told the marine sergeant sitting across from him.
Harry Landon laughed. “I change names so often some days I forget who I’m supposed to be. The less they know the better I like it.”
“I understand,” grinned the colonel. “No tags, no name. Best way to go.” The colonel paused. “Ever meet Carlos Hathway?”
“Seven, eight years ago. We were in boot together.”
“He must be one hell of a marine to rack up his record. What was he like?”
Landon eased back in his chair wondering what these questions were all about.
“Average guy. Quiet. Trim. On the lightweight side. Heavy Arkansas drawl.”
The colonel studied him. “You leave a calling card, Sergeant Landon?”
“Nope. Nobody cares about me.”
“Well they sure got a shitload of reward money out for him. Their press is calling him Lâng Tráng –White Feather -- because he leaves a white feather behind on his kills.”
The sergeant decided he’d better steer the colonel back to why he was there. “What’s this about, Colonel?”
Colonel Ryan’s chair squealed as he leaned back, elbows propped up on the armrests, thumb-tips together he made a tent of his fingers and squinted over it at Landon as though it was a rifle sight. He spoke softly and slowly. “The last one you did wasn’t Ma. It wasn’t the Ghost Sniper.”
Landon sat up and stared at the colonel.
“Ma leaves a calling card on his kills. A small black patch of silk pinned to the clothes with a long thorn. These have been turning up lately up north. Mostly officers and noncoms when they’re in the bush and he can get to the kill. How he tells the officers from the grunts I can’t guess but he does.”
Landon said nothing. He had his own thoughts about that.
Ma the ghost sniper is still out there, making kills and leaving his marker on them. But he is always invisible; no one even knows where he fires from. Once again Sergeant Harry Landon is ordered to do the seemingly impossible – take out the sniper whose ghostly habits enable him to perform the impossible, killing victims wherever he chooses in plain sight but no one sees him. Harry soon realizes that the Ghost is leading him into a totally dark alien world inhabited only by the dead where he may lay waiting to strike. Is he mortal or immortal? The only way Sergeant Landon will find out is to go there after him. [But can you kill a ghost?
From the story:
Squinting through his cigar smoke that hung like a gray fog over his drab gray desk Colonel Radar Ryan decided to hold off on the bad news.
“You had a different name last time we talked,” he told the marine sergeant sitting across from him.
Harry Landon laughed. “I change names so often some days I forget who I’m supposed to be. The less they know the better I like it.”
“I understand,” grinned the colonel. “No tags, no name. Best way to go.” The colonel paused. “Ever meet Carlos Hathway?”
“Seven, eight years ago. We were in boot together.”
“He must be one hell of a marine to rack up his record. What was he like?”
Landon eased back in his chair wondering what these questions were all about.
“Average guy. Quiet. Trim. On the lightweight side. Heavy Arkansas drawl.”
The colonel studied him. “You leave a calling card, Sergeant Landon?”
“Nope. Nobody cares about me.”
“Well they sure got a shitload of reward money out for him. Their press is calling him Lâng Tráng –White Feather -- because he leaves a white feather behind on his kills.”
The sergeant decided he’d better steer the colonel back to why he was there. “What’s this about, Colonel?”
Colonel Ryan’s chair squealed as he leaned back, elbows propped up on the armrests, thumb-tips together he made a tent of his fingers and squinted over it at Landon as though it was a rifle sight. He spoke softly and slowly. “The last one you did wasn’t Ma. It wasn’t the Ghost Sniper.”
Landon sat up and stared at the colonel.
“Ma leaves a calling card on his kills. A small black patch of silk pinned to the clothes with a long thorn. These have been turning up lately up north. Mostly officers and noncoms when they’re in the bush and he can get to the kill. How he tells the officers from the grunts I can’t guess but he does.”
Landon said nothing. He had his own thoughts about that.
Ma the ghost sniper is still out there, making kills and leaving his marker on them. But he is always invisible; no one even knows where he fires from. Once again Sergeant Harry Landon is ordered to do the seemingly impossible – take out the sniper whose ghostly habits enable him to perform the impossible, killing victims wherever he chooses in plain sight but no one sees him. Harry soon realizes that the Ghost is leading him into a totally dark alien world inhabited only by the dead where he may lay waiting to strike. Is he mortal or immortal? The only way Sergeant Landon will find out is to go there after him. [But can you kill a ghost?
