I push the wandering thoughts away quickly.
Head in the game, Snow.
I draw my sight right, tracking the convoy on their final approach. The SUVs stand out like a sore bloody thumb. I never understood why these people make such a spectacle of themselves. It’s like they areaskingto be shot at.
“One shot, Kara. Don’t fuck this up.”
“Kara isn’t here right now. Please leave your name and number,” the convoy pulls up to the hotel, “and she will get back to you.”
“Always a smart ass,” he mumbles.
“Trying to concentrate,” I sing. I pullback the bolt, cocking the gun. The rain pelts down harder, the cold drops bouncing off the concrete ledge and my hands, but everything has disappeared, including Andrews.
I take three deep breaths, and line up my shot.
“Target confirmed in second vehicle.”
“Roger.”
The doors on the two other cars opens, but the one in the middle stands idle.
Waiting.
“Movement,” I say, watching the car like a hawk.
As soon as the door opens and Andrews confirms the target, I’ll take the shot. It will take him about five seconds for the targetto move away from the cars and be flanked by his guards. It will take my bullet approximately three seconds to hit its mark.
“Target confirmed, you’re a go.”
My finger moves onto the trigger as I let out my breath from my pursed lips. I squeeze the trigger. The bullet flies from the gun at 1800 mph.
“Bullet away. Three, two, one.”
It hits its mark, ripping through skin, muscle, cartilage and bone as it breaks through the man’s chest cavity, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake.
He’ll be dead by the time he’s have even realised anything had happened.
A heartbeat.
A shot.
A life.
Gone.
I remain in position to watch the target fall to the ground. Blood oozes from his wound and pools onto the water-soaked ground, the red mixing with the standing rain water, making the sight even more gruesome.
“That’s a confirmed hit. Target down.”
“Roger that. See you soon.”
In one swift movement, I pull my sniper rifle from the ledge and roll off onto the roof floor. I pack away my equipment in an organised, well-rehearsed fashion.
Sirens wail, car horns blare, people cry, but I’m too far away to see the chaos that has erupted on the streets outside the hotel. I create chaos; I don’t stay to watch the aftermath.
Checking the roof, I look for anything that I may have left behind. Unlikely, but you can never be too sure. I’ve known people in this field of work get sloppy, and I will not be one of them.
From the moment I pulled the trigger to climbing back through the window into the abandoned office building, thirty seconds has passed.
