little limelight. It would be a short five-minute drive over to the courthouse.
Rock, never one to allow for a quiet ride, asked Knapp, “Get yourself a lawyer yet?”
“Yeah. Legal aid.”
“Thought you weren’t going to put up with one of those?”
“Don’t expect I’ll have to for long. But you all are trying to get plenty of publicity on this, so I don’t have much of a choice right now.”
Bouchard’s radio crackled with Hansen’s voice. “They just pulled out. Right on time. They’re going south on St. Peter.”
“Copy that,” Bouchard replied, then to Hagen, “Do it.”
Hagen was sitting at the desk with two laptops. The laptops had the security cameras of the second and third levels of the Vincent Ramp. A key stroke caused an almost imperceptive blip on the cameras on the left laptop, while the right remained constant. A minute later, Viper appeared on the right laptop, making his way to the southwest corner of the third level of the ramp. The left laptop, which the ramp security cameras were currently seeing and recording, showed the same location without Viper.
Viper moved into position and kneeled down between two mini-vans. The vans, parked in the last two spots on the southeast corner of the parking ramp, provided him cover from anyone driving through the ramp. His position was kitty corner from the front of the courthouse. He had a good field of fire, with an excellent view of the sidewalk area and the forty-foot walk to the front doors of the courthouse.
He took one last look out over the street and to the sidewalk in front of the courthouse. A crowd was gathering, waiting for the arrival of the University Avenue Strangler and his arraignment. All of the local television stations were there, reporters making a last check of their hair, and cameramen doing the same with their equipment. All were kept away by a police barricade, creating a fifteen-foot wide walkway into the courthouse.
He kneeled down and opened his case, which was designed to look like one for a laptop. Inside was his sniper rifle, which he quickly assembled, the last pieces being the silencer and the scope. Three bullets were slid in, two in the magazine and one in the chamber. He locked it in. He slipped a black mask down over his face, which matched his black coat, pants, and thin black gloves. His earpiece came to life.
“They’re two blocks out.”
“Copy that,” he replied. He peered just over the edge, and a minute later saw the parade approach in the form of two unmarked Crown Victoria’s.
“Cripes, what a crowd,” Rock stated, noticing all of the media and people in front of the courthouse.
“Lots of hair spray and makeup,” Riles replied. “Make sure to smile for the camera as we walk in. Let the media see that big gap in your teeth.” An evil grin spread across Riles’s face.
“Keep it up, and I’ll give you one to match,” Rock retorted.
Laughing, Riles got out of the back left of the car, and Rock exited the front passenger side, opening the rear door. Riles leaned into the car and helped lift Knapp up out of the car and onto his feet. “We’re just going to head right on in,” he said to Knapp, who simply nodded.
“Let’s go.” Rock lightly grabbed the back of Knapp’s left arm and Riles had the right.
Lich called down to them. “Hey, guys, come on up. They got it on TV. Riles and Rock are about to walk Knapp into court.”
Mac, Patrick, and several others gathered around the TV in Knapp’s living room.
“Lot’s of media,” Lich remarked.
“Just in time for the noon news,” Mac replied. “The whole town’ll be able to see this.”
Viper had them in the scope as they lifted Knapp out of the backseat. He wanted them a little more to his left for a slightly better firing angle.
He looked through the scope with his right eye, his finger on the trigger. “Don’t hit the black cop,” he said to himself, training the crosshairs on Knapp. They were moving now, away from the car, the black cop on his left arm, Riley on the right. Forty-feet to the courthouse. As they moved towards the courthouse, the firing angle improved, Knapp’s head was no longer obscured. The assassin exhaled and squeezed the trigger.
Riles felt something hit the back of his head, moist, he reached with his right hand and felt it. Bringing it around to his eyes it was red, and Knapp was suddenly heavy in his left arm. He looked at Knapp, slumped over now, a large red hole where the back of his head used to be. Riley realized his left side was covered in blood.
People saw it now, the blood, Knapp down. Panic set in as bystanders started screaming, running or hitting the ground.
“Where did it come from?” Riley heard Rock yell, looking back and to the east.
People were pointing in all different directions, at the various buildings and parking ramps in the area. Chaos broke out as uniforms ran up to Riley checking on him. Others had weapons drawn, scanning the area for the shooter. Riles heard another uniform yelling into a radio for backup.
“Pat, you hit?”
Riles was unresponsive.
“Are you hit?” Rock asked again, grabbing Riles on the left arm.
Riles, getting his head together, “N… n… no. I think it’s just Knapp’s blood.” He was coated in it.
* * * * *
“Direct hit,” Bouchard said matter of factly, looking down on the area with a high-powered set of binoculars.
“His head’s turned to mush,” Hennessey confirmed.
“Viper move. Subject’s down,” Bouchard ordered into the radio. “Switch it when he gets to the skyway,” he said to Hagen.
Bouchard needn’t have bothered with the order. Viper saw the hole in the back of Knapp’s head. Quickly down on a knee, out of sight from the outside, he pulled the rifle apart and put it into the case. He was on the move in ten seconds, a black blur, moving between the vans, across the parking lot, towards the stairway.
Through the stairway door, he was quickly down one flight of steps to the skyway level. He pulled at the Velcro collar on his coat and it opened into a sport coat, with an open-collared white button-down-collar shirt. The stocking cap was off, replaced by a hounds-tooth driving cap. A fake beard concealed his face, along with a pair of stylish tinted glasses. While walking towards the skyway, he flipped his case over, so the outside looked like canvas. An empty Starbucks cup fished out of the case finished off the ensemble. As he walked out to the skyway, and into surveillance camera view, he blended in and looked like any one of a thousand people walking downtown over the noon hour.
Chapter Twenty-Six
