“You’re good.” Mercedes’s voice came back. She and Paul had positioned in a tower opposite the course, him sniping and her spotting.
Adam approached the entrance, sporting his own disguise in a green-keeper’s uniform, and floated past Dan who waved him in.
He positioned at the edge of the fourteenth hole, thanking all his luck that holes one through thirteen had obviously been a bust. He couldn’t keep still, fiddling with anything he could. Buttons on his jumpsuit, grass, random assortments of tools.
“Incoming,” Dan said. Adam turned over his shoulder to see Diego, his team, and several city officials move onto the fourteenth. Carlos was staying back, far enough away to be unthought of, but not so far that he would fall behind.
Careful not to rouse suspicion, Adam tailed Diego and the officials around the course. With each new hole that was completed without any activity, Adam grew more and more nervous. They couldn’t afford to miss their opportunity to intercept a potential shot.
By the time they hit hole seventeen, his skin was practically on fire with irritation.
There was a chance they were wrong. That Diego wasn’t the target. And he’d wasted the better part of forty minutes trudging up a golf course, sweating his balls off.
“Are we sure this is where it’s going down?” Adam asked into the radio.
“It’s where I’d do it,” Paul said. That did a lot to settle his nerves.
“Hang on, I have something,” Dan said. “Got someone approaching, check the pro shop.”
There was a lone golfer approaching the entrance where Dan was stationed. He brought his own clubs and declined a caddy. Adam listened over the radio as Dan greeted him and let him onto the golf course.
“Did you get that?” Dan said.
“Got it.” Adam watched as the man bypassed hole one and moved farther through the course. He didn’t take out any clubs, and he didn’t appear to head to any specific hole. He was moving completely out of order.
“We’ve got him in sights,” Mercedes said.
The man disappeared underneath a shade of trees, crouching low and taking out a cigarette. His general demeanor made him seem suspicious, but somehow Adam felt this wasn’t the threat they were searching for.
“It’s not the guy,” Paul sighed. “He’s just having a smoke.”
“Well, we’re at hole seventeen now. If it’s happening, it’s happening soon,” Adam said.
“Do you guys see that?” Dan’s uncertain voice came through the radio. Looking back at his friend near the entry, Adam found Dan cocking his head, looking curiously out to where Diego was pushing up to tee on the seventeenth.
“What is it?” Adam said.
“There’s a red dot floating around out there,” Dan said, his voice rising in alarm.
“Oh, shit,” Mercedes said.
“Do you see the source?!” Adam said.
“We don’t have a source,” Paul said, his tone indicating he was deep breathing to steady his weapon in case he had to make any hasty shots.
Fuck it. They couldn’t wait.
Adam started a run toward Diego’s location. “Carlos, I need you to create a distraction. Make sure they can’t get a clear shot on Diego.”
“Fuck my job,” Carlos muttered.
Up on the green Carlos twitched on his feet, his shoulders slumping before he trudged to where Diego stood with his golf club poised to strike. Shaking out his hand, Carlos made a fist and calmly punched Diego square in the face.
His companions immediately ceased their chatter.
“What in the–” were all the words Diego could get out before his security team tackled Carlos to the grass. Diego was ushered away and pressed against the golf cart for safety.
“I see something!” Mercedes announced suddenly. “Sniper, fifth floor of the parking lot.”
