She shivered. The nape of her neck had always been sensitive, even ticklish. She had been surprised again by the intensity of the feeling. She rubbed the spot with her hand as she watched Paul lift the two heavy suitcases to the bed.
She waited until he had opened the suitcases, then lifted out the folded clothes and set them on the bed so they would be out of Paul’s way while he removed the two dismantled rifles. He reassembled the first rifle. He had decided to use the .308 Remington Model 7s he had cleaned yesterday. Paul had always said that .308 was the government-certified man-killing caliber because the FBI snipers used .308 rifles. She and Paul were hoping to put only one bullet through one small woman.
Paul was setting up the spotting scope on the table beside the window. He looked into the eyepiece. “It’s just about perfect,” he said. “I can see the curb, the sidewalk, the front steps, the door, and a hundred feet on either side. I can see in the windows. Take a look.”
She stepped to the table and took his place. “Great view. There’s a guy sitting on the bus-stop bench, and I can see the crow’s-feet wrinkles by his eyes.” She paused. “Oops. Not now. He’s putting on sunglasses.” She straightened and stepped to the window for an unmagnified look.
“If you stay back from the window a few feet, you’ll be harder to see.”
She retreated. He was right, of course, but she wished he had not spoken. That need that men had to assert, to insist, to instruct, was infuriating. She stepped to the bed, unfolded the few clothes they had brought, and hung them in the closet. Then she picked up one of the rifles, raised it to her shoulder, and looked through the scope at the District Attorney’s building. The scope was a new Weaver V16 Classic that was adjustable from four to sixteen power. She settled the crosshairs on the front entrance and decided the scope was just right for this long shot.
Paul was busy placing the night-vision scope on the other rifle. The nightscope was harder to use, harder to line up, and made everything glow with a green luminescence. They would use the nightscope only if the girl arrived at night, but why on earth wouldn’t she? It would be foolish of her to come any other time, and she would be foolish not to disguise herself. If the police brought her, they would treat her like a protected witness. She would arrive with three big cops, all of them wearing bulletproof vests and oversized jackets. They would surround her and hustle her into the building.
Paul’s preparations had been meticulous, partly because he was trying to overcome the jinx that seemed to have followed them in this job. Being careful was also the rational reaction to a risky time and place for killing someone. Sylvie played with the telescopic sight, staring at the silent street so far below her. She placed the crosshairs on the man on the bus bench, but then a bus pulled into her line of fire and obliterated her view. The bus had an advertisement on the side, and she moved the crosshairs to the oversized front tooth of the reclining actress. “Coming August 12,” she said aloud. “Bang.” The bus pulled away and he was still there, sitting on the bench as before. The man was big, with broad shoulders and a suspicion of a belly. He lifted a newspaper and appeared to be reading it. As she watched him, she moved the crosshairs on his body, placing them on the small metal bridge between the lenses of his sunglasses, across his nose, then up to his forehead. From this angle, she could hardly take her eyes off his widow’s peak. The hair jutted down to a point, with shiny receding spaces on either side of it that reflected the late-afternoon sunlight. She said, “Doesn’t that man on the bus bench look like a cop?”
Paul said, “The guy in the sport coat?”
“Yes. See him?”
Paul made a tiny adjustment to the spotting scope. “With this thing I can read his mind. Yeah.” Paul stared at him for a few more seconds. “He could be one. I mean, what the hell is he doing there? Guys like him don’t ride buses, they drive.”
“Maybe he can’t,” she said. “He’s right outside the DA’s office. Maybe he’s had his license pulled for a DUI.”
“I don’t know,” said Paul. “Come here and watch him through the spotting scope.”
She set the rifle down on the couch and stepped to the table beside the window. She looked into the eyepiece. “What are you doing?”
“I want to get everything ready. Can you see anything on him? A radio, or a bulge in his coat that shouldn’t be there?”
“How about a big gold badge?” she teased. “Nothing that I can see. He isn’t wearing body armor, because I can see his gut. No earpiece.”
“Check his shoes.”
“Good idea.” She overadjusted the elevation of the scope, and he disappeared. She brought the scope back up a bit and studied the man’s shoes. “I don’t think they’re cop shoes. They look more like those walking shoes you have.”
“Then he’s probably not a cop. Those things cost me three hundred bucks.”
“You never told me.”
“An oversight.”
“Sure. When I spend that much on shoes you sound like you’ve been stabbed.”
“They’re therapeutic. They prevent plantar fasciitis and shin splints.”
“Are you ready?”
“The guns are both lined up and loaded. If that guy down there is the lookout and they come now, we’ll at least get a shot. Keep watching him. If he does anything, it could be the all clear to signal them in.”
“He’s looking at his watch. Now he’s standing up. He’s walking.” She was quiet for a few seconds. “Nothing else is happening. I guess it’s a false alarm.”
“Good. Can you still keep watch for a little longer? I want to get the other stuff all ready to go.”
“Sure.”
She sat at the table and watched the front of the building. She was aware of Paul moving around in her peripheral vision, taking two folded police uniforms out of their suitcases. He laid them on the bed and examined them. The badge was pinned over the left pocket of each one, the nameplate pinned over the right pocket. Paul set the black leather utility belts beside them. They were bulky, with handcuffs, pepper spray, ammunition clips, sidearm. He put the black shoes on the floor at the foot of the bed. Paul was much neater than she was. She had years ago given up the pretense that she was as neat as he was, and since then concentrated on keeping her things out of his way. “There’s another one,” she said.
“What?”
“The guy we were watching left. Now there’s another guy in the same spot. He’s wearing a sport coat, too, and a tie. He’s not sitting. He’s standing.”
“Let me see.” Paul stood over her and she leaned away from the table so he could look through the spotting scope. “That’s odd. He doesn’t look as though he’s waiting for a bus, either. He’s walking over toward the corner of the building. Now he’s just standing there.”
“You don’t suppose it’s some kind of national-security thing—protecting the court buildings from terrorists?”
“I sure as hell hope not, but it could be.” He stared into the spotting scope. “I want to watch this guy for a while. You can take a break.”
For the rest of the day, one of them was always at the table in front of the window, staring at the front entrance of the District Attorney’s office below. They took two-hour shifts. Every time Sylvie returned to the window, she saw one of the two men in sport coats.
The men weren’t on duty for longer than an hour, and they moved around, so she could not always find the one on guard immediately. She made a game out of searching. Sometimes the man would be around one corner of the building or the other, just far enough so he could face in a different direction and not appear to be staring at Temple Street. Once he disappeared, but she found him ten minutes later across Temple Street from the building, coming out of the doorway of another building where he had been watching the street from behind the glass doors.
At six she put on her wig and Sarah Harkin skirt to walk to a restaurant down the street and pick up a takeout dinner. There were five good restaurants in the hotel, but she didn’t want to attract the attention of too many of the Otani Hotel’s guests and staff, so she used a back elevator to get to the street. When she returned, she took the stairs up two flights before she emerged from the stairs and took the elevator the rest of the
