#49: FAMILIAR FOE.

Keeping low, Drake hurried down towards the back of his property. He heard another two shots, followed by a burst of return fire from Nickelby. 
With the sniper occupied by his butler, Drake could move about more freely, circling back around to Mandible Mountain. Being as athletic as he was, it took him less than a minute to cross then start up the slope.

Standing at roughly five-hundred and forty metres above sea-level, Mandible Mountain was technically only a hill. Located one and a half clicks from the mansion with a small copse of trees for cover and a clear view of the kitchen, it made an ideal position for a marksman.
Or markswoman as Drake suspected.

His suspicion was proved correct when he saw a familiar, blonde-haired assassin, lying beneath a weeping willow, aiming down at the mansion. Taking out the auto-revolver, he stole up noiselessly behind her and pressed the barrel to the back of her head.

“Godformiddag,” he said, greeting her in Danish .