Download - Walkthrough To Hitman Series

seemed that Gazeau kept a small arsenal aboard his truck. Which, given the way things were
unfolding, was a pretty good idea.
The chopper's dual Pratt & Whitney PW 206B2 turbine engines howled wildly as the pilot put
the ship into a wide turn, blew sand across the now-stationary truck, and hovered just off the
piste. The helicopter had an Avionique Nouvelle cockpit, and the large glass canopy allowed
Al-Sharr to see the truck in front of him, but it also meant that the occupants could see him as
well. That, plus the fact that the aircraft's nose-in position made it impossible for the
AK-47-wielding corporal to make use of his weapon. It was a fatal error.
However, just as the Sous-Prefet was about to say something over the chopper's PA system,
Numo jumped down from the Unimog and fired a three-round burst. Thanks to the fact that the
aircraft was square in his sights, two of Numo's slugs struck their intended target. A hole
appeared just over Al-Sharr's head, the pilot panicked, and that led to a second mistake.
Rather than back away and protect his engines, the chopper jockey turned to starboard. That
gave Numo the opportunity he'd been waiting for–a clear shot at the port engine. The AK-47
rattled as the Libyan emptied his clip into the exposed turbine. It coughed, burped smoke, and
the chopper started to spool down.
The EC 135 rocked as the pilot shut off the fuel supply to the port engine and goosed its twin.
The nose dropped, the remaining turbine screamed, and the aircraft began to move away. But
Agent 47 had exited the Mog by that time, drawn both of his Silverballers, and was striding
toward the helicopter, firing as he went. Empty shell casings arced away from the assassin and a
tight grouping of holes appeared around the chopper jockey's head as he slumped forward.
The man that Gazeau knew as Alex Taylor quickly ran out of ammo, but by then there was a
fresh clip in the AK-47, and Numo was still firing when the Eurocopter hit the ground. The
remaining engine screamed as the aircraft did a nose-over, the main rotor shattered, and pieces
of blade scythed through the air.
The long-slide went back into its holster. The act of slipping a fresh magazine into the shorter
weapon was as natural as breathing, but there was no need. The fat man was still alive,
struggling to free himself by then, but it was too late, and 47 caught one last glimpse of the
policeman's desperate face as the 135 blew. There were three explosions in all, and even though
he was about seventy-five yards away, it was still necessary to go facedown in the sand as a wall
of heat rolled past and pieces of flaming debris fell all around.
Finally, once the explosions were over, the assassin stood. Gazeau appeared at his side.
“It will take days for the government to sort this out…assuming they ever do. Still, there's
bound to be a whole bunch of gendarmes running about. So it would be a good idea to get in
and out of Oum-Chalouba as quickly as we can.”
Agent 47 nodded.
“That works for me. Let's get out of here.”