Gourmet dinners by candlelight?”
“All of the above,” he said. “Especially the sex part. I think we need to slow things down a little.”
Jessica rolled her eyes.
“You really are not funny.”
* * *
Raul lay on his stomach, his right eye against the rifle scope, studying the terrace. The dim light made it hard to discern between the figures sitting at the table. Despite the relatively short firing distance, all he could see was silhouettes. There were at least four people, and while he knew he could take out several of them, he didn’t like the odds of shooting all four. So he waited, as patiently as possible. But time was running out. The guard would soon return. When he did, any chance of killing the American would be gone.
“How long do we have?” asked Raul, keeping his eye glued to the scope.
“It’s nearly eleven,” said Chang, trying not to sound worried. “We have an hour.”
Raul felt his heart pick up a beat, and he shut his eyes for a brief moment, trying to calm down.
* * *
At eleven, Dewey and Jessica said goodnight to the Sabellas and walked to their suite.
Jessica went to the French doors, opening them to the nighttime air. The moon and stars created a golden hue of ambient light.
Dewey went to the armoire and took off his shirt. From the top drawer, he removed two small shiny gold objects, which he’d been hiding from Jessica. He examined them in the palm of his hand.
He’d bought them in Manhattan. Each had cost ten thousand dollars at Tiffany’s. He could’ve bought them for half the price from a less well known jeweler, but it’s what Jessica wanted, and that was all he cared about. Dewey smiled as he looked down at the two rings.
“Can I show you something?” he asked.
Jessica turned from the doors, tilted her head, and smiled.
“Sure.”
* * *
“It’s eleven fifteen,” said Chang, whispering urgently. “We can’t wait any longer.”
Raul, on his stomach, breathed very slowly now, as he’d been trained to do. He looked in utter stillness through the high-powered PSO-1 scope at the woman standing in the middle of the French doors. She was facing him. Her mouth was centered in the crosshairs of the scope.
Behind her was a man. He was tall. He stood with his back turned at the far side of the room. Andreas. Raul pressed his finger against the trigger, almost hard enough to fire the rifle but not quite.
“She’s too close.”
“You hit the guard from a mile out,” said Chang, encouraging him. “You can do it, Raul.”
A tremor of fear made Raul shiver for a brief moment.
“Be quiet, please,” said Raul.
He slowed his breathing to the point of holding his breath. He studied Andreas in the scope, just to the right of the woman.
Raul became aware of movement—to the left, back on the terrace off the kitchen. He moved the rifle ever so slightly, finding the terrace. Someone had flipped lights on. He registered a tall man with dark skin along with a woman. He moved the weapon back to the bedroom, reacquiring the sight of the woman, standing in the middle of the doorway.
Suddenly, the woman turned, moving away from the French doors. Raul had a clean shot.
He yanked back the trigger. The low boom of the Dragunov echoed across the dark plain, then kicked back as the rifle sent a slug through the night.
* * *
Dewey went to open his hand and show Jessica the two rings, just as the bedroom was interrupted by a sharp noise—abrupt, violent, an unnatural sound—the fracturing of wood, the sound combining, in a terrible second, with the smell of sawdust.
Dewey’s head jerked right. The armoire lay mauled, a large hole cleaved, just inches from where he stood, splintering in a web of slivers and wood dust.
His eyes turned to Jessica. She looked panicked and lost.
Dewey, instincts suddenly taking over, lurched toward her.
“ Get down! ” he screamed.
* * *
Raul retargeted the rifle, finding the
“All of the above,” he said. “Especially the sex part. I think we need to slow things down a little.”
Jessica rolled her eyes.
“You really are not funny.”
* * *
Raul lay on his stomach, his right eye against the rifle scope, studying the terrace. The dim light made it hard to discern between the figures sitting at the table. Despite the relatively short firing distance, all he could see was silhouettes. There were at least four people, and while he knew he could take out several of them, he didn’t like the odds of shooting all four. So he waited, as patiently as possible. But time was running out. The guard would soon return. When he did, any chance of killing the American would be gone.
“How long do we have?” asked Raul, keeping his eye glued to the scope.
“It’s nearly eleven,” said Chang, trying not to sound worried. “We have an hour.”
Raul felt his heart pick up a beat, and he shut his eyes for a brief moment, trying to calm down.
* * *
At eleven, Dewey and Jessica said goodnight to the Sabellas and walked to their suite.
Jessica went to the French doors, opening them to the nighttime air. The moon and stars created a golden hue of ambient light.
Dewey went to the armoire and took off his shirt. From the top drawer, he removed two small shiny gold objects, which he’d been hiding from Jessica. He examined them in the palm of his hand.
He’d bought them in Manhattan. Each had cost ten thousand dollars at Tiffany’s. He could’ve bought them for half the price from a less well known jeweler, but it’s what Jessica wanted, and that was all he cared about. Dewey smiled as he looked down at the two rings.
“Can I show you something?” he asked.
Jessica turned from the doors, tilted her head, and smiled.
“Sure.”
* * *
“It’s eleven fifteen,” said Chang, whispering urgently. “We can’t wait any longer.”
Raul, on his stomach, breathed very slowly now, as he’d been trained to do. He looked in utter stillness through the high-powered PSO-1 scope at the woman standing in the middle of the French doors. She was facing him. Her mouth was centered in the crosshairs of the scope.
Behind her was a man. He was tall. He stood with his back turned at the far side of the room. Andreas. Raul pressed his finger against the trigger, almost hard enough to fire the rifle but not quite.
“She’s too close.”
“You hit the guard from a mile out,” said Chang, encouraging him. “You can do it, Raul.”
A tremor of fear made Raul shiver for a brief moment.
“Be quiet, please,” said Raul.
He slowed his breathing to the point of holding his breath. He studied Andreas in the scope, just to the right of the woman.
Raul became aware of movement—to the left, back on the terrace off the kitchen. He moved the rifle ever so slightly, finding the terrace. Someone had flipped lights on. He registered a tall man with dark skin along with a woman. He moved the weapon back to the bedroom, reacquiring the sight of the woman, standing in the middle of the doorway.
Suddenly, the woman turned, moving away from the French doors. Raul had a clean shot.
He yanked back the trigger. The low boom of the Dragunov echoed across the dark plain, then kicked back as the rifle sent a slug through the night.
* * *
Dewey went to open his hand and show Jessica the two rings, just as the bedroom was interrupted by a sharp noise—abrupt, violent, an unnatural sound—the fracturing of wood, the sound combining, in a terrible second, with the smell of sawdust.
Dewey’s head jerked right. The armoire lay mauled, a large hole cleaved, just inches from where he stood, splintering in a web of slivers and wood dust.
His eyes turned to Jessica. She looked panicked and lost.
Dewey, instincts suddenly taking over, lurched toward her.
“ Get down! ” he screamed.
* * *
Raul retargeted the rifle, finding the
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