Winter Sniper: A World War II Novel

Chapter 14

Eisenhower's motorcade was approaching.

Hess had watched the street for hours, seeing cars cruise up and down Pennsylvania Avenue. Slowly, the traffic had dwindled after the evening rush. Hess had turned off the lights and opened the window for a clear view of the street.

These cars were different. The noise of powerful engines working in unison alerted him first. The sets of headlights were coming from the direction of the White House, following each other closely. He saw the cars pull up together at the curb in front of the Metropolitan.

He settled the rifle into the groove he had made for it in the sack of seed on the table. The wooden stock was smooth against his cheek as he pressed his eye to the telescopic scope. The scope was an extremely fine work of optics that would have cost a German factory worker six months’ salary. The hotel entrance sprang to view as if Hess were no more than a few paces away.

Hess worried about the wind. All day long a sharp breeze had blown from the direction of the Potomac, carrying a smell of salt air, but had died down after nightfall. The breeze was still strong enough to rattle the oak leaves clinging to the tree branches below, but it was nothing he could not handle. It was a good night for shooting.

Hess took a deep breath, let it out, and put his finger on the trigger.

Ty slumped in the passenger-side front seat of the big Chevrolet. Dick Smithers and Kit Henderson were in the back seat. Through the windshield, Ty watched the taillights of the car carrying General Eisenhower. The vehicle behind Ty's car carried more of Eisenhower's staff.

If it hadn't been so cold, Ty might have nodded off on the ride from the White House to the hotel. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so tired. The long journey from England and the time difference were finally catching up with him. In the past few hours he had enjoyed a tryst with Eva, met the president of the United States, and downed two strong martinis at the White House. It was as if he had lived a lifetime in two days.

His tired body fought the urge to shiver — the enlisted man at the wheel next to Ty didn't seem affected by the cold — and stared out the window at the nighttime city. The dim blackout lights were far from dazzling. Washington seemed subdued as if the whole city were taking a long winter's nap.

"What did you think of Roosevelt?" Kit Henderson asked from the back seat.

"He's different from how he looks in the newsreels," Ty said. "I thought he looked old."

"Anyone past thirty looks old to you," Henderson said with a chuckle. At thirty-four, the major liked to take the role of wise elder. "I saw him a few years back, you know, giving a speech in New York. I think the war has taken a lot out of him."

Ty tried to imagine what it must be like to have the whole nation looking to you for leadership — to be making decisions on a daily basis that might win the war, or perhaps lose it. No wonder the president had looked tired. "Roosevelt is doing all right, if you ask me," he said. "I think you're just one of those closet Republicans."

Henderson laughed gently. "After sixteen years with Roosevelt in the White House, don't you think it's time for a change? I wouldn't be surprised to see Ike run for president someday.” The general kept his politics to himself, but it was no secret that he was a Republican.

"When he wins this war, Ike can have anything he wants," Ty agreed.

"That certain of victory, are you?"

"The Germans are on the ropes," Ty said. "It's just a matter of time."

"We've still got a long, hard fight ahead of us," Henderson said somberly, then fell silent.

Ike in the White House? That would be something. Ty was sure he would make an excellent president — Ike had all the energy that the tired Roosevelt seemed to lack. But Kit was right — they had to win the war first. They would have their work cut out for them once they got back to London.

Ty thought again about trying to nod off, but they were almost at the hotel. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the driver glance in the rear view mirror. The driver hadn't said a word other than to greet them tonight, but now he spoke up in a puzzled voice. "What the —"

Ty swiveled to look over the top of the bench seat. He could make out a single headlight moving up fast behind them.

Hess felt his body automatically slip into the rhythm of the sniper developed by long years of practice. He had been a hunter long before he was a soldier, so stillness came naturally to him. He sat without moving for so long that his heartbeat scarcely registered. He took a breath that was more like a sip of air, then held it. His room had filled with cold air from the open window but he did not shiver. The slightest motion of his body could cause his bullet to stray by a fraction of an inch. Hess willed his every nerve to go numb. All that mattered now was his eye pressed to the scope and his fingertip on the trigger.

He was so close now. In his mind, Hess imagined that the Earth had stopped spinning. His world shrank to the circle of shadows and light he could see through the telescopic sight. A doorman wandered through that narrow field of vision and Hess could have killed him instantly. But Hess had just one target in mind and his patience had been honed in the unforgiving cold of Russia. Then, through the scope, he watched the car doors open. Several officers spilled out onto the sidewalk, all looking the same in their olive drab overcoats, and Hess had a bad moment, thinking that once again he was out of luck. Then one more figure emerged, wearing a camel’s hair coat. Eisenhower. His crosshairs brushed over the general’s heart. Then the line of fire was immediately blocked by a staff member who approached Eisenhower. It was the same problem he had experienced yesterday, when the crowd on the sidewalk had shielded his target. The two men stood talking for a moment, the general almost obscured by the other officer. Still, Hess noticed that the general’s figure was somewhat stooped, as if drained from a long day and a busy schedule.

Hess could see Eisenhower’s face turned toward him, but even that was partially obscured. The crosshairs settled on a point slightly above and to the right of the general’s head. His finger tightened on the trigger, but he did not send the shot home. Shooting was more instinct than science, and something did not feel right to Hess. The shot had not yet formed itself in his mind. The other man’s shoulder still crowded the crosshairs too closely. If the man would just step away and leave Eisenhower free for a moment…

Hess forced himself to stop thinking so much. You have waited this long, he told himself. You can wait a moment longer.

The driver looked in the mirror again and Ty could see white knuckles gripping the steering wheel. "Who is this maniac?"

Now they could hear a motorcycle engine rushing toward them, its roar echoing in the night air. It had been against regulations to bring a weapon into the White House, but Ty had kept a .45 automatic in his coat pocket.

The driver of Ty's car had been assigned when they got to Washington, but Ike had insisted on bringing the capable Sergeant Crandall from England. Crandall must have seen the motorcyclist as well, because now the lead car carrying Eisenhower sped up.

"Sir, what do you want me to do?" their own driver asked, sounding nervous.

"If he tries to pass us, see if you can swerve and knock him down."

"It could just be some kid out for a joyride," Henderson said.

"We'll find out soon enough.” Ty reached into his coat pocket and thumbed back the hammer of the .45 as the motorcycle pulled even with the car behind them. Curiously, the motorcycle slowed down and Ty had a glimpse of the driver waving and shouting something. The car flashed its lights as the motorcycle accelerated and pulled alongside Ty's car. He rolled down the window and took out the gun, keeping it just out of sight.

"Captain Walker!" the rider shouted, struggling to make himself heard. "I've got a message for Captain Walker!"

"If this idiot had waited five minutes, he could have just telephoned you at the hotel," Henderson said. "What did you do, Ty, leave your hat at the White House?"

"Pull over," Ty said to his own driver. The motorcycle skidded to a halt beside them.

He could see now that the man on the motorcycle was ill-equipped to be riding on a winter's night. He wore an army overcoat, but did not have on so much as a hat or goggles, or even gloves. The man must be frozen. The rider fumbled at a pocket and tugged out an envelope.

"I came directly from OSS, sir," the rider said. "It's urgent."

"Urgent, huh?" Henderson grumped from the back seat. "Never would have guessed."

Ty tore open the envelope. It was too dark to read. "Goddamn it —"

Henderson reached over the back seat and clicked a lighter. "How's that?"

In the flickering light, Ty's eyes flew over the scrawled message.

Ty could scarcely believe what he had just read. Looking over his shoulder, Henderson strained to see the note. "What does it say?"

"Someone's planning to shoot Ike.” He turned to his driver. "Step on it! We've got to catch up to the general's car."

They fell back in their seats as the driver floored it from a dead stop. The big Chevy was no sports car, but the driver worked through the gears, racing the two blocks to the hotel. General Eisenhower's car had already pulled to the curb; Ty could see the brake lights ahead.

"Move it, goddamnit!"

The Chevy flew up the street, and for a moment Ty feared that they were going to slam into the back of Ike's car. But the driver swerved as he hit the brakes, and in a display of wheelsmanship worthy of a Monte Carlo racer managed to skid to a stop almost parallel to the general's car. Ty had the door open before they stopped moving.

Ike was already on the sidewalk, having a smoke with the officers who had ridden over from the White House. He stopped to watch as the other car roared up.

Ty ran toward the general, shouting, "Get down!"

Two MPs stood guard at the door. Both had their side arms aimed at Ty, not knowing what was going on. Ringed by his staff officers, Ike seemed frozen to the spot, then took a step toward the hotel door.

Major Henderson was out of the car now, yelling at the MPs not to shoot.

Hess sensed the breeze increase and he let the single-post sight drift to the general’s chest. He might be able to make a headshot at this distance, but that would only be a matter of vanity. He had not crossed the Atlantic to miss. There was a much better chance that he would hit the general’s heart.

Let it come…

Too many officers still milled around the general. They were busy with cigarettes, lighting them up. Despite the fatigue that seemed to weigh on the general’s shoulders, the group radiated the kind of high spirits that signaled they had just come from a party or a convivial dinner. Hess let his finger take up another fraction of pressure on the trigger. Not yet. Someone held a match for the general and the brief glow illuminated his face.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hess heard a racing engine and a squeal of brakes. He ignored the noises. All that mattered was what he could see in the circle of the telescopic sight.

Then Eisenhower stepped clear. He sucked greedily on the cigarette, making the tip flare red.

Hess fired.

Ty tackled the general. He hit Eisenhower harder than he intended and their momentum carried them right to the ground. In the instant that they collided, he felt more than heard something hiss past his ear. The sensation made his spine tingle. Then he and the general tumbled together onto the sidewalk in a tangle of arms, legs and overcoats. Only then did Ty hear the distant but unmistakable crack of a rifle in the winter air.

The other staff members, stunned by the sight of Ty plowing into the general, leapt into action. Hands reached for Ty's shoulders, tugging him roughly away from the general.

“For crissake!” Ike shouted, sounding highly pissed off. "What the hell got into you?"

"Was that a backfire?" somebody wondered.

It occurred to Ty that in the confusion, not everyone had understood that they were being shot at. Ty tried to make himself heard, but the two large MPs had hold of Ty now and wrestled him away from Ike.

To Ty's relief, Henderson's voice cut through loud as a bullhorn. "Get the general inside! There's a sniper!"

Eisenhower, still shaken from being tackled, hadn't even regained his feet before he half-ran, was half-dragged toward the shelter of the hotel doorway. One of the MPs had Ty pinned to the side of the staff car.

"He's not hurt, is he?" Ty asked.

The MP was in no mood to take questions, and he didn't release his grip on Ty. "That's enough out of you, sir."

Then the man was being shouldered out of the way by a familiar jug-eared figure. "Let him go. He just saved the general's life," Crandall said. Reluctantly, the MP let go.

"Did anyone see where the shot came from?" Ty asked.

Crandall pointed. "That house across the street. I thought I saw a muzzle flash, up there in one of the windows on the top floor."

"You stick with Ike," Ty said. He turned to the MPs. "You two, come with me."

They ran across the street, Ty leading the way. He knew it was foolhardy. Whoever was up there with a rifle was likely already gone… and if he wasn't, then Ty came to the uncomfortable realization that he and the MPs made a good target as they crossed the open expanse of Pennsylvania Avenue. Ty felt his scalp prickle. So, he thought, I'm finally finding out what it's like to come under fire.

"Captain, that house has got an open window on the top floor."

Ty looked where the MP was pointing. The upper floor was dark, but he could still make out the open window, a black hole where the glass should have reflected the streetlights. He could see that the downstairs windows were lighted because a glow leaked around the blackout shades.

"Let's go," Ty said.

They ran to the door. To Ty's surprise, it was not locked. The MPs went through the door first, guns drawn. They quickly went through the downstairs rooms. They seemed to be making an awful racket even though they tried to be quiet. The floors creaked under their feet.

Nobody seemed to be home. Nodding at the stairs, Ty started up them, the MPs right behind him.