Chapter 1
The torso of the target hovered dead centre of the reticle. This wasn’t the precise aiming point I would use at the time I took the shot, but it was a good reference point until I was ready. I’d done the distance calculations using the mil dots of the reticle. It was unnecessary because I’d used the range finder when I’d selected this spot and the scope had been zeroed for the six-hundred metre range, but I always liked to use both methods just in case. Measure twice, cut once. The range had been dialled into the sight so I had no need to adjust vertical aiming position. I only needed to take the wind into account. I could see the small flag I had placed on the top of a building nearby with a flick of my eyes upwards and to the left. From the slight ripple of the silk, I estimated the wind at 8mph left to right. At this level and range, I knew it was equivalent to four MOA, minutes of angle. There were 3.375 MOA in a mil on the reticle, so I adjusted my aiming point a tiny amount over a mil to the left to compensate.
I lay prone with the CheyTac Intervention M300 stretched out in front of me on a bipod. It was a perfect rifle for this range. My cheek rested on the stock and my right elbow rested on the mat I’d laid on the ground to make things comfortable. I had my left arm folded in front of me with my left hand on my right shoulder in a classic sniper position for a rifle with a bipod. It wasn’t like the movies of course, where the sniper usually holds the hand guard under the barrel. I took two deep breaths and let my body relax. I had a stable platform and didn’t need to be tense to hold the aim.
The time had come. I took one more breath in and then slowly exhaled as I took the tension on the trigger.
A pressure slowly built on my temple like the start of a headache. It wasn’t a jab that would make me jerk away, just a steadily increased force. It wasn’t there and then it was. It shouldn’t have been there though. It felt out of place, but it was unmistakable. Someone had pressed the barrel of a pistol to the side of my head.
A calmness descended on me like a cold shower on a hot day as I slowed my breathing. I needed to figure out a way to restore some semblance of control. That wasn’t easy when I’m laid on the floor with a gun to my head.
“That’s impressive,” I said. “To get this close without me hearing you.”
I kept my cheek to the stock, careful not to move. I still looked through the Steiner M5Xi scope and had automatically adjusted the target back to the centre of the reticle, but I had my attention very much in the room. The pressure on my head didn’t waver.
“I’m an impressive kinda gal.”
I smiled. I hadn’t expected a woman. Her accent sounded very English. Either upper middle class, or from the Home Counties. I can’t usually tell the difference. To be fair to myself there probably wasn’t one.
Why not a woman though, I chided myself? A woman assassin would be much more effective than a man. Women generally had more subtlety. It’s just that this wasn’t a highly populated community and there weren’t many female assassins. Was it a sexist industry? Probably not. More likely women were far more sensible than the men and didn’t get into such a short-lived trade.
I stayed relaxed and continued to look through the scope at the target.
“I’m not sure which is more impressive,” I countered. “Getting the drop on me, or finding me in the first place.”
“Like I said…” The voice had a slightly dusky tinge to it, a bit Tara Palmer-Tomkinson. It would probably be sexy in other circumstances. Hell, some men might find it sexy in these circumstances. Not me though, TPT wasn’t my type and these circumstances were definitely no turn-on.
“How come you didn’t go for cocking your pistol to let me know that you’re here? It would have been way cooler.”
“Yes, there’s nothing as cool as racking the slide so you eject the perfectly good round that was already chambered. I’m a professional; this isn’t the movies. Anyway, I didn’t think you’d need the dramatic entrance.”
I’d tried to rile her and failed. On the contrary, she was making fun of me. I already knew she was a professional, otherwise she wouldn’t have found me or be in this position, her with a gun to my head and me completely at her mercy. It was good that I’d drawn the information from her. It was a start, but I wasn’t anywhere near in control yet. I had to keep her talking.
“So, what now?” I asked.
“Maybe I just shoot you and get out of here.” She had a slightly mocking tone in her voice.
“I don’t think so.”
“And why might that be?” It was a challenge, but a friendly one.
“If that’s all you were going to do, you’d have done it already. Every second you waste chatting with me is increasing your risk which doesn’t fit with your incredible professionalism.” I returned the teasing, with interest. Or so I thought. “There’s more to this, but I’m struggling to work out what it might be. You should get on with it though. I’m getting bored.”
“Maybe I’m just enjoying the moment. The assassin that no-one knows and no-one has ever seen. Right here, under my gun,” she mocked again. “But, you’re awfully salty for someone with a gun to their head.”
I smiled again. She gave as good as she got. In fact, I think she was definitely winning this exchange. I wasn’t really making any ground.
“It’s the kind of thing that makes me salty, being on the receiving end. And, I have a job to do. And, I really don’t want to have to press this button.”
A silence stretched out between us.
“Button? What button? I can smell a bluff.”
“I’ve survived a long time. A lot of people would like me dead. I take precautions. Don’t you?”
The folding of my left arm underneath meant that she couldn’t see my left hand.
“I have a button on the pocket of my jacket that will trigger the precautions I’ve set up. It won’t end well.” She was right of course, it was a bluff. No-one had ever got near me before. There was no reason for me to take this level of precaution. The woman was right in that no-one knew who I was, what I looked like or anything about me.
“So, I should just shoot you now then?”
That wouldn’t be a good ending for me. I had to think furiously.
“Ah, I wouldn’t do that either,” I countered. “You see, it’s a dead man switch. Now it’s activated, if I let go it’s going to get noisy.” I was insinuating a bomb and she knew what I meant.
“I know what a dead man’s switch is, fucktard,” she snapped and then recovered. “Seems like we’re at an impasse. A Mexican standoff. If I kill you, we both die. If I don’t, you’ll probably kill me. At this point, it seems that either way ends up with me dead.”
I took a risk. “I can’t promise anything. So, like I said, what now?” I hoped she would see it as a joke. If she didn’t she might just shoot me and hope that my bluffed bomb didn’t kill her.
“Maybe you should just take the shot.”
I felt my eyebrow raise. I hadn’t expected that. I guess I’d assumed she was protection for the target. I hadn’t even considered it; I’d just accepted it. I thought she was taking me into custody. What the hell?
I hadn’t taken my attention from the image in the scope, I hadn’t been able to move, after all. I’d unconsciously made the micro adjustments to follow the target all the while, but my focus and attention had been in the room. There was no point delaying, so I refocused, made a last adjustment and then squeezed the trigger. It was what I was here to do, after all. The range was well within the maximum 2500 metre range of the rifle and the .375 match grade round. It took less than a second for the round to hit the target.
“Hit?” she asked.
Well, that was just offensive. I took my eye away from the scope and turned my head to look up at her.
“Seriously?”
She squatted in front of me but had pulled the gun away from my temple as I’d turned. It still pointed at me and didn’t waver. Steady as a rock.
She was strikingly beautiful. I’d guessed who she was of course, it was a small community, but this confirmed it. I’d heard she was attractive, but hadn’t really understood what that would mean in real life. It was unexpected.
Again.
The pistol that still pointed at me was an SP2022 Nitron polymer frame 9mm, a very professional weapon, not a burner. It was probably her own. It told me a little more about her.
“Just thought I’d check,” she shot back. “You never know. I mean, I don’t really know for sure that you are who I think you are.”
“I’m definitely not, so you should just let me go now.”
“Well, that might be a bit risky for me. And, I haven’t fulfilled my contract yet.”
“I see. Am I the contract?”
“Someone is.”
“There isn’t anyone else around in the range of that pistol, now is there?”
She looked at the pistol and smiled. “Yes, there is that.”
I took the opportunity to slowly sit up. She stood and took a careful step back to make sure I couldn’t reach her. Very wise, I thought, but I’d covered the draw of my own pistol with my change of position and now had it pointed at her.
“So, what now?” I asked for the third time.
“I knew that button shit was a bluff.”
“If you did, you would have shot me.”
“Nope, I still haven’t decided whether I’m going to or not.” She’d not reacted to my gun at all. She was talking like it wasn’t there. She was obviously confident in her abilities.
“What are you waiting for?” I asked.
“I’m trying to decide if I dislike you enough.”
“And how’s working out?”
“On the fence.”
I nodded. “I have that effect on people.”
“Maybe you should rethink it about now. You could probably afford to be a bit more like me and shift in the direction of likeable. Might work out better for you.”
“And how’s that going for you?”
“Oh, works a treat. But then, I am better looking than you.”
“I’ll give you that one. Does that work for you with both sexes?”
“You have no idea,” she laughed.
“So, here we are. A Mexican standoff. Two killers, each with a gun pointed at the other and no obvious way out. What should we do?”
“I think I could do with a drink. How about you?”
I had in mind that we’d negotiate a situation where we both backed away, gun pointed at the other until we were both ‘safe’. Whether one of us then followed the other to finish the job, or both of us did, would remain to be seen. I hadn’t decided whether I could afford anyone to know what I looked like and still be alive.
But, a drink? That was unexpected. For the third time.
I think I’ve lost my touch.
