The Long shot

Patrick Farrell.

Howard looked at his watch. It was five minutes before noon. On his way to the elevator he looked into Kelly’s office. She’d gone and he wasn’t surprised to find her already sitting opposite Sheldon’s desk. “Cole, come in, sit down,” said Sheldon, waving him to the seat next to Kelly. “Kelly’s just been updating me on your progress.”

“That’s decent of her,” said Howard, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“These new photographs are really quite something,” continued Sheldon, as if he hadn’t heard Howard. “I’m quite hopeful that we’ll strike gold with these.”

“They’re certainly a big improvement,” agreed Howard. “Did Kelly tell you about the bank accounts of Lovell and Schoelen?”

“She did, and I’ve already approved the subpoena of the telephone records, our legal boys are doing the paperwork now. Same goes for the phone tap.”

Howard nodded. Sheldon toyed with a pencil thoughtfully. “The Justin Davies credit card turned up in Los Angeles, I gather. What are your feelings on that?”

“I think it’s a set-up,” said Howard quietly. “I think they dumped the card, hoping that it’d be picked up and be used.”

“So where should we be looking for these snipers?”

Howard was about to speak, but Kelly got in first. “I’ve already spoken to the two rifle manufacturers — Barrett and Horstkamp. They’re going through their sales records now. They sell mainly through dealers, so it’ll be a question of approaching them for names and addresses.”

Howard’s mouth dropped. It had been his idea to track down the rifles, but she’d made it sound as if the brainwave was hers. “That’s good,” said Sheldon.

“That and the telephone tap are just about our only leads on the snipers,” said Howard. “Unless the telephone records show up anything. Incidentally, I’d like more manpower, it’s going to take some legwork.”

“How many were you thinking of?” asked Sheldon, tapping his pencil on his blotter.

“Two should be enough at this stage.”

Sheldon nodded. “Consider it done. Let me have a look at the rosters and I’ll give you names this afternoon. Now, how are the computer experts getting on with their sniping program?”

“They should be in the White House as we speak,” said Howard. “I was planning to speak to Andy Kim today.”

“Let me know how you get on,” said Sheldon. He brought the meeting to a close. Howard and Kelly went down in the elevator together in silence. When the doors hissed open, Howard asked her if she’d go along to his office. He waited until the door was closed before speaking again.

“What is your problem, Kelly?” he said quietly as he went behind his desk and sat down.

He didn’t ask her to sit, but she did anyway, demurely crossing her legs. She seemed totally unfazed by his question, almost as if she’d expected it. “I don’t know what you mean, Cole,” she said, one eyebrow arched.

“I’m heading this investigation,” said Howard.

“Have I implied that you weren’t?” she said.

“You appear to be taking liberties with the line of command,” he said. “I report to Jake Sheldon, you report to me.”

“I understand that,” she said smoothly, her voice like a cat’s purr.

“So can you explain why every time I leave the office, you rush up to see Sheldon?”

She folded her hands primly in her lap and studied Howard with her pale green eyes. “First, Cole, I hardly think that three visits to Sheldon’s office in one month could be seen as a threat to your authority. And secondly, on two of those occasions it was Jake who called me up. His secretary had tried to contact you, but you were out of the office. The call was passed onto me, and I was asked to go up and brief him on developments. There was never any question of my trying to usurp your authority. I have the greatest respect for your abilities as an agent.”

Howard took a deep breath. The supercilious look on her face left him in no doubt that she was lying on all counts, but he knew there was nothing he could do. Kelly looked at her gold Cartier watch. “If there’s nothing else, I do have work to do.”

Howard shook his head and waved her away. Kelly stood up, smoothed down her skirt, and left the office, her head held high.

They arrived within an hour of each other, following the instructions Carlos had given them, driving behind the house and parking on an area of tarmac which had been used as a basketball court. The view from the rear of the house was spectacular, overlooking the Chesapeake Bay, and each of the arrivals had walked down to the water and looked over the waves to the twin spans of the Bay Bridge which loomed out of the mist to the left, before heading back to the house where they were greeted by Carlos.

Mary Hennessy hadn’t selected the house from the dozen or so she’d visited because of its view, breathtaking as it was, but because of the privacy it offered — the nearest neighbour was a mile away and shielded by trees. There were only two ways to reach the house — by driving down a long, winding single track road, or by water. The house was built of wood, with towering gables and sash windows, and it had been freshly painted the colour of clotted cream. It had seven bedrooms and three bathrooms, and was surrounded by three acres of well-tended lawn, green and lush despite the salt air.

Carlos had parked his car in the garage and was waiting in the kitchen, drinking a cup of black, sweet coffee, when Rich Lovell arrived. He opened the back door and stood on the porch and watched as Lovell stood at the end of the lawn, his hands on his hips, and took in the view. The former Navy SEAL went back to his red Ford Mustang, opened the trunk, and took out two cases: one a nylon bag containing his clothes, the other clearly containing a rifle. He saw Carlos as he slammed the trunk shut and he waved. Carlos raised his coffee mug in salute.

“Am I the first?” shouted Lovell as he shouldered the rifle case.

“You are, so you get the choice of bedrooms,” replied Carlos. “You’ll find a linen cupboard upstairs, I’m afraid there’s no maid service.”

“Anything’ll be better than the Holiday Inn,” said Lovell with a smile. He stepped onto the porch and Carlos opened the door for him. Carlos sat down at the kitchen table and opened that day’s Washington Post as Lovell climbed the stairs and made himself comfortable in one of the bedrooms. Carlos flicked through the foreign pages but there was little to interest him. The American press was parochial in the extreme and foreign affairs were low down their list of editorial priorities. The business section contained a gloomy survey of the country’s manufacturing industry, and a forecast that there was worse to come. The dollar was falling against most major currencies, and the property market was in the doldrums. Carlos smiled. The world had rejoiced when Russia and Eastern Europe had been forced to admit that Communism couldn’t work. He wondered how long it would be before nations realised that pure capitalism was equally ineffective. America, which prided itself on being the richest and most successful country in the world, also had one of the highest infant mortality rates, more men in prison than any totalitarian country, and an average life expectancy worse than many Third World nations. The system was starting to break down already, and no-one would take more pleasure in the demise of the USA than Ilich Ramirez Sanchez.

Outside, he heard a car drive down the track and he went back to the porch. It was Dina Rashid. She parked her white Ford Escort next to Lovell’s Mustang and, like Lovell, went to stand next to the water for a few minutes, her long, curly black hair blowing in the wind. She was so thin, thought Carlos; almost anorexic, her figure that of a teenage boy rather than the thirty-year-old woman she was. As usual, she wore black — jeans and a polo-neck sweater, with black motorcycle boots. She turned as if aware that she was being watched and she waved. “This is wonderful!” she yelled. She ran across the lawn to the porch and hugged Carlos, hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. “Everything is well?” she asked.

“Everything is perfect,” he said. “Lovell is upstairs already.”

“Bastard!” she said, and spat noisily to the side. “If he tries to get inside my pants again, I’ll have his balls off.”

Carlos grinned and slapped her on the backside. Many years ago, Carlos and Rashid had been lovers, but no longer. Their lovemaking had bonded them together, though, and they trusted each other completely. “Just so long as he can shoot, Dina, that’s all that I care about.”

She tightened her arms around his neck and kissed him on one cheek. “Don’t worry, Ilich. I have something special in mind for Mr Lovell if he tries to touch me again.” She pulled away from Carlos, and laughed throatily. Her