Page 34 of The Circle

The things that transpire next do so in almost impossibly quick order.

—I reach into my coat to retrieve my pistol.

—Brasil sees me reaching and pushes my chest as he steps back.

—As he retreats, he withdraws his own hand cannon.

—The two brus with him withdraw their pistols as well.

—I duck to the side, extending my arm, prepared to start firing.

—But before I can pull the trigger, something catches my eye from the building off to the side.

—A glint. A flash. Sunlight sparking on something. A window. Or some kind of glass.

—No. Not a window. Too small.

—And then, like a revelation, I realize what it is.

—It’s the sight of a rifle. The eyepiece.

—And it’s pointed right at me from one of the building’s upper windows.

Well. Fok.