Ghost Sniper

10

Gil was still asleep in bed when he heard a knock at the door. He sat up and took a Parkerized subcompact Springfield .45 pistol from the nightstand drawer, glancing at the clock. Lena hadn’t left until well after six in the morning.

He slipped naked from the bed and went to have a look through the peephole. Seeing Lena, he unlocked the door. She came into the room with an orange backpack slung over one shoulder. The gun in his hand didn’t seem to frighten her at all.

“Did you get some sleep?” she asked, kissing his cheek and crossing the room to toss the backpack onto a love seat.

“Yeah, look,” he said, scratching his head. “I’m not exactly who you think—”

“Of course you’re not,” she interrupted. “If you were, I wouldn’t have just canceled a wedding that was supposed to take place ten days from now.”

He set the pistol down on the table. “Lena, I’m not sure—”

“You don’t need to be. I’m sure.”

“But I’m not lookin’ to—”

“Neither am I,” she said with a laugh. “You still love your wife. That’s obvious. What I want is adventure. I’d almost forgotten what that was, being with Sabastian. You reminded me last night. I’m not really sure what I was thinking when I agreed to marry him.”

He grabbed his pants and stepped into them. “First of all, I can’t give you the kind of adventure you’re looking for. I don’t have that kind of money.”

“I’ve got my own money, Conner.”

“Conner’s not my even my name,” he said with a sigh.

She took his pack of cigarettes from the nightstand. “Then what is it?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t tell you. I can’t even tell you what I’m doing in Liechtenstein.”

She lit the cigarette with a chuckle, dropping the lighter onto the nightstand. “And you say you can’t give me adventure.”

“Look, this isn’t a game.”

“All life is a game.”

He shook his head, regretting his weakness the night before. “People get killed in the games I play.”

She sat down on the bed. “People get killed jumping out of airplanes — yet that’s my favorite sport.” She gestured at the gun. “And I assume that’s yours?”

He picked up his shirt from the floor. “Where’s Sabastian?”

“Headed for the airport.”

“He’s pissed? Heartbroken?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’d say he’s offended. Men like Sabastian don’t get their hearts broken. He’ll have another woman like me by the end of the week — maybe not one as wealthy.”

“Last night you said I’d make an enemy.”

“And you have — but I gave you fair warning in that regard. Do you want to spend more time with me or not? Because now I’m beginning to get offended.”

He grinned. “Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

They agreed to meet in the lounge after Gil had showered and made some calls. In the meantime, Lena would schedule a flight for the two of them to Switzerland.

Gil got Pope on the phone and told him the truth about what had happened between him and Lena

“All right,” Pope said. “These things happen. You can finish the job in Switzerland. I’ll figure out a way for it to look like a Mossad hit. Blickensderfer is on their list, too.” The Mossad was Israel’s version of the CIA.

“Bob, no. I’ve blown this op. I can’t sleep with a guy’s girl and then kill him.”

There was a long silence at the other end of the phone.

“You there?”

“Yeah,” Pope replied. “I’m trying to understand what you just said. You’re telling me you can’t kill a man if you’ve slept with his woman. What does one have to do with the other?”

“I guess it’s personal now.” Gil didn’t know how else to explain it.

“I’ve got news for you,” Pope replied somewhat coldly. “If Blickensderfer ever finds out who you are, this will become a great deal more personal.”

“I’ve blown this one, Bob. I’m sorry. It won’t ever happen again, but I can’t move on Blickensderfer now. I’ve crossed a line. I’ve told you before I wasn’t trained for this James Bond shit.”

“Well, if you can’t do it, you can’t do it,” Pope said, warmer suddenly. “You’re entitled to a mistake. You’re also entitled to a vacation. You’ve been operational for almost two years without a break. We’ll discuss things after you’ve had a couple months off. How’s that?”

“Okay,” Gil said. He’d known Pope long enough to understand that the director likely wasn’t happy with this outcome, but hopefully he wouldn’t hold it over his head for too long.

“Sounds good. Have you checked on Crosswhite and Paolina?”

Pope was silent again.

“Did I lose you?”

“No, I’m here,” Pope said. “They’re both fine, but Crosswhite’s operational. A US diplomatic convoy was just ambushed in Mexico City. It was a cartel hit, and all of our diplomats were wiped out — most of the DSS team as well.”

“You know Paolina’s pregnant.”

“I do, but I need him — and he owes me.”

Gil didn’t entirely agree with that, but this was not the time to argue the point. “How deep does he have to get involved?”

“That remains to be seen,” Pope said. “There’s an ex — US Army sniper doing hits for the cartels, and it looks like he’s the one who pulled the trigger on our people. He used a fifty cal.”

Gil was immediately pissed that one of his own had turned bad. “Do you have a name?”

“Not yet.”

“Get me a name and a face to go with it. Then get me in-country so I can punch the fucker’s ticket.”

“We’ll have to see how things develop,” Pope said quietly. “I’m not sure Mexico is the place for you. You don’t speak the language, and Crosswhite’s a big boy.”

“He’s got vulnerabilities, Bob: a pregnant woman and a little girl to worry about.”

“What did you expect, Gil? That I would pay him and not use him?”

Gil let out an impatient sigh. “All I’m asking is that you consider his circumstance.”

“I have,” Pope said. “It’s the circumstance he’s put himself into. Crosswhite doesn’t use his head when it comes to women. He never has. Be careful you don’t start falling prey to the same lack of judgment.”

Gil was annoyed when they got off the phone, but he reminded himself that so far Pope had always played him straight and that he owed the man a lot.

He was coming from the shower when the door to his room burst open, and three burly men covered in tattoos bum-rushed him, tackling him onto the bed and raining down punches. The blows landed like sledgehammers against the side of his head, and he went unconscious.

When Gil came around, he was duct taped naked to a chair, and his mouth was taped shut. Four ugly men sat around the room staring at him with vacant expressions. Blood was leaking into his left eye, and his head throbbed. At first he thought they were Blickensderfer’s people — which would have been bad enough — but then he took a closer look at their tattoos.

They were Bratva — the Brotherhood. Russian Mafia.

This is it, he told himself. And it’s gonna be ugly. He closed his eyes for a moment, just long enough to say good-bye to Marie and to promise himself that he’d go out with as much dignity as possible — but he didn’t have much in the way of confidence. These men were professionals at taking away a man’s humanity.