closes on sniper

Saxon vaulted to the floor, landing in a tuck and roll as a heavy rack of
books exploded into confetti. He was in the worst place he could have
been. Hardesty had the height advantage, looking down from the second
floor, and the range to make the high-powered rifle work for him;
Saxon had a revolver with a single bullet.

It wasn't just the lay of the land that was working against him. Outside, the
Swiss police were gathering their wits and he had maybe a minute
before they would pile into the library, mob-handed. And he knew one thing
for certain; if he was going to find Anna Kelso, he would have to go
through Scott Hardesty to do it.

As if on cue, the sniper called out to him. "Hey, limey! Thanks for the help,
man. No matter how this plays out now, you've done the job for us!
I'm gonna ice you, leave you here for the cops ... Namir gets the group to
finesse things a little, and by the evening news cycle, it'll be like you
pulled the trigger yourself."

He edged along one of the shelves. "You reckon? You missed the mark,
mate. Taggart's still breathing!"

"Doesn't matter!" he shot back. "We got a contingency for everything,
Saxon. Don't you get that? The plan goes ahead, no matter how much the
little people try to screw with it..."

Another bullet ripped through the shelves close to Saxon's head and he
ducked. The son-of-a-bitch had a T-wave scope, peering through the
cover. Unless he could get out from under, close the distance, nothing the
soldier could do would keep the sniper from making the hit sooner or
later.

He glanced up. The balcony overhead was a few feet from the top of the
tallest bookshelf; he could make it, but the moment he moved,
Hardesty would cut him down. He needed a distraction.

Saxon leapt up onto the top of a study desk and the sniper saw him, swinging
his rifle around to draw a bead. Saxon raised the Diamondback
and squeezed the trigger; as good a shot as he was, even with the aim point
enhancements in his optics, Hardesty was in three-quarter cover
and essentially untouchable.

The massive crystal chandelier above him was a far larger, far easier target
to hit. A great bowl of frosted glass and brass workings suspended
from a metal chain, it dated back to the opening of the Palais almost a
century earlier. Saxon's shot destroyed it utterly, the fragile antique
exploding under the impact. Hardesty cried out in alarm as the chandelier
came apart and crashed down around him.

Glass pealed as it shattered and collapsed, and Saxon used the moment to his
advantage. Discarding the spent, useless revolver, he rocked back
on his augmented legs and applied power to a sprinting leap that took him
scrambling up the bookcase, careworn old volumes tumbling to the
tiled floor as he kicked them free. Reaching the top of the stack, he swung
for the rail running the length of the balcony and snagged it with his
cyberarm. The metal fingers locked on and he hauled himself up with a
hissing grunt of effort. He was rolling over and down as a bullet strike
cut a divot of marble from the balcony at his side, sending chips of stone
scattering like shrapnel.

Hardesty dashed from his cover, changing position, seeking a better angle.

- Deus Ex: Icarus Effect, Chapter 14 pgs. 386-388