could see above the sock looked like the leg of a doll.
Hobart didn’t talk much to Don because he didn’t like to be memorable. He did manage to plant in Don’s mind the idea that he was from Texas and was divorced. Before Hobart said anything while he was working, he always contemplated it to be sure nothing about it was true. Don let Hobart off in front of the apartment complex he had given as his address.
When Don had driven the donated car away, Hobart walked a few blocks and took a bus to the subway station at Universal City. He walked across the street past the big electronic marquee and up the hill to the Hilton Hotel where he was staying. He kicked off his shoes, put the Do NOT DISTURB sign on the door and took a long nap. When he woke, he knew he’d had a dream about Valerie, but he couldn’t quite bring it back. He remembered that they had been married in the dream, and she’d had some children with her who had the same blond hair that she had. He supposed they must have been his children, too.
As he showered and dressed, he felt Valerie’s presence in the room, and he continued his argument with her in his mind. It was late afternoon when he went out to pick up the equipment he would need. He had ordered a Kimber version of the .45 ACP 1911 over the telephone when he was in Las Vegas. The store was a small one in Burbank where he had bought several other guns under the name Harold Keynes, and he had been glad to learn that once again Mr. Keynes had stood up to the background checks. Since Keynes had been dead for six years, he could not have gotten himself into any trouble, but it was good to learn that Harold Keynes’s body still had not been found and identified.
Hobart had also ordered a gun-cleaning kit and a Remington Model 700 .308 rifle with a scope. He didn’t know whether this job would require any distance work, but having the rifle for it made him feel good. For a few hundred dollars, he had bought enough range and accuracy to place a bullet through a teacup at six hundred yards.
Hobart had learned to be an expert marksman when he was a boy. He had become accustomed early to the mil-dot reticle that had been invented for military snipers. Reading the dots on the crosshairs had become automatic for him before he was thirteen. At 600 yards, the space between two dots on the crosshairs of a lOX scope was 21.6 inches. He could estimate the range of a shot by comparing the sizes of objects to that, so he memorized the sizes of things. A license plate was 12 inches long. A standard table was about 3 0 inches high. Most exterior doors were 36 inches wide and 80 high. At that range, a woman who was 5‘3” was three dots tall.
He would spend days alone in the desert, pacing the distances and shooting until he could do it all reflexively. In those days he had very little money and a box of ammunition was expensive, so he needed to do much more measuring, aiming, and thinking than shooting.
Hobart loaded his new rifle into the trunk of his rental car, but kept the new pistol in its box on the floor beside him, then drove to the hotel and parked in the parking structure. He left the rifle in the trunk, but he took the pistol, cleaning kit, and ammunition with him because in the shopping bag they didn’t look like anything in particular. In his room he put on a pair of thin surgical gloves, opened the box, took out the gun, broke it down, cleaned it thoroughly, and left a thin layer of gun oil on the working parts.
There were people who liked hollow point ammunition with a .45 because the bullet mushroomed a bit when it hit, and supposedly did a lot of damage to the target without going through and piercing walls and doors. But Hobart had found that regular ball ammo had never failed to stop anybody, and he didn’t consider a bullet going through a wall or a door to be a disadvantage. He had bought a couple of twenty-round boxes of ball ammunition, so he opened one and, keeping his gloves on, he
Hobart didn’t talk much to Don because he didn’t like to be memorable. He did manage to plant in Don’s mind the idea that he was from Texas and was divorced. Before Hobart said anything while he was working, he always contemplated it to be sure nothing about it was true. Don let Hobart off in front of the apartment complex he had given as his address.
When Don had driven the donated car away, Hobart walked a few blocks and took a bus to the subway station at Universal City. He walked across the street past the big electronic marquee and up the hill to the Hilton Hotel where he was staying. He kicked off his shoes, put the Do NOT DISTURB sign on the door and took a long nap. When he woke, he knew he’d had a dream about Valerie, but he couldn’t quite bring it back. He remembered that they had been married in the dream, and she’d had some children with her who had the same blond hair that she had. He supposed they must have been his children, too.
As he showered and dressed, he felt Valerie’s presence in the room, and he continued his argument with her in his mind. It was late afternoon when he went out to pick up the equipment he would need. He had ordered a Kimber version of the .45 ACP 1911 over the telephone when he was in Las Vegas. The store was a small one in Burbank where he had bought several other guns under the name Harold Keynes, and he had been glad to learn that once again Mr. Keynes had stood up to the background checks. Since Keynes had been dead for six years, he could not have gotten himself into any trouble, but it was good to learn that Harold Keynes’s body still had not been found and identified.
Hobart had also ordered a gun-cleaning kit and a Remington Model 700 .308 rifle with a scope. He didn’t know whether this job would require any distance work, but having the rifle for it made him feel good. For a few hundred dollars, he had bought enough range and accuracy to place a bullet through a teacup at six hundred yards.
Hobart had learned to be an expert marksman when he was a boy. He had become accustomed early to the mil-dot reticle that had been invented for military snipers. Reading the dots on the crosshairs had become automatic for him before he was thirteen. At 600 yards, the space between two dots on the crosshairs of a lOX scope was 21.6 inches. He could estimate the range of a shot by comparing the sizes of objects to that, so he memorized the sizes of things. A license plate was 12 inches long. A standard table was about 3 0 inches high. Most exterior doors were 36 inches wide and 80 high. At that range, a woman who was 5‘3” was three dots tall.
He would spend days alone in the desert, pacing the distances and shooting until he could do it all reflexively. In those days he had very little money and a box of ammunition was expensive, so he needed to do much more measuring, aiming, and thinking than shooting.
Hobart loaded his new rifle into the trunk of his rental car, but kept the new pistol in its box on the floor beside him, then drove to the hotel and parked in the parking structure. He left the rifle in the trunk, but he took the pistol, cleaning kit, and ammunition with him because in the shopping bag they didn’t look like anything in particular. In his room he put on a pair of thin surgical gloves, opened the box, took out the gun, broke it down, cleaned it thoroughly, and left a thin layer of gun oil on the working parts.
There were people who liked hollow point ammunition with a .45 because the bullet mushroomed a bit when it hit, and supposedly did a lot of damage to the target without going through and piercing walls and doors. But Hobart had found that regular ball ammo had never failed to stop anybody, and he didn’t consider a bullet going through a wall or a door to be a disadvantage. He had bought a couple of twenty-round boxes of ball ammunition, so he opened one and, keeping his gloves on, he
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