Meanwhile.
London.
Mack.
From across the street we had a beautiful view of the party. We had a beautiful view of Sarah and everyone she was greeting. And there had been many she greeted in her dress, which she filled out more then nicely. Greatly Fuckable came to mind.
"Do you realize about eighty percent of the people she has greeted are on Interpol's watch list?"
"Hater," I accused Bob of, from right beside him.
I had the gun and he had the binoculars.
We each had a window.
"Doesn't that bother you? The current woman you're shacking up with is friend's with mobsters?" Again, he asked, somehow becoming the moral compass whenever I was around him.
Ignoring that, I watched her embrace and kiss some guy. Not the old man I was supposed to help expire. They kissed each other on the cheek, seeming genuinely happy to see one another. I ignored the urge to put a hole in this guy's head too. It had been a common feeling for the past hour.
Once she gave the signal, I'd kill the old mobster. Completely disable the head of the Russian Mob in London for a few weeks. Until they found their new headman. But this one had to go. Now, according to Ryan.
Sarah moved on from the one she'd been so thrilled to see. Grabbed her second glass of what appeared to be champagne from a waiter with tray. She began sipping and looking around the room. Appearing to be bored. It was working. She looked like that moody bitch at a party, the one guys were too scared to approach.
It had been perfected over many years.
Bob stiffened, "Someone is approaching her. This may be him."
Then Sarah made a face.
She thrust her hand out, as well as her hip. Apparently not pleased to be seeing this person. With a jerk of her hand he retreated. Obviously scared of the knockout blonde in the great dress, with killer heels.
"Guess not, Bub," I smirked.
Sighing, Bob checked his watch.
I was fine. Laid out on the floor with the rifle on a tripod. We were good to go. I could stay down for hours. But if we killed this guy within two hours, we could catch a flight from Heathrow to JFK, tonight. That sounded appealing. Once we killed Nikolai, the shit would literally hit the fan. Not only with the London Police, but the Russians.
Sarah sipped her drink. Continuing to look bored. When she finished it she even began to examine the glass. Appearing to look at the bottom of it. She then put it in her purse with the other wine glass, and a figurine she'd spotted on a table. God only knew what else she had in that purse.
While doing this, a short fat man waddled over to her. My heart sped up.
Who was he?
Would she get in trouble for thieving?
She closed her purse and resumed the position of boredom, then a smile broke out over her face.
"This may be him," Bob murmured.
She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. The old man hugged her back. And then she kissed the top of his baldhead.
That was it.
That was her signal that he was Nikolai.
Then like I told her she stepped to the side, still talking and smiling. Completely at ease with the old man, who was also perfectly calm. There was not a trace of fear or unease on her face. She trusted me not to shoot her, and I wasn't about to let her down.
I lined the shot up. Accounted for the slight breeze, the angle, and the pane of glass on their building. Then I fired. The weapon recoiled back and bumped my shoulder.
By the time the weapon was still and I looked through the scope, Bob reported, "Target down. Good shot."
Blood was speckled all over Sarah's face. She was calm for a second. Then she took a breath and began to scream, pointing dramatically at the floor by her feet. I didn't see the rest, I began to break down my weapon, and put it away.
"And she is making her way through the crowd…and she's out of the room." Bob reported, never moving.
I had half the weapon broken down, and then he reported, "She's in the stairwell. She's cleaning her face with a cloth from her purse…and she's back in the building."
While Bob continued to watch, I had it all broken down and was packing. Having it put away perfectly in a few seconds over a minute.
When I closed and locked the case, Bob reported, "She's on the street in jeans and a black shirt. She's still getting dressed…and has a shopping bag in hand. The dress must be in there."
"Fantastic, lets go." I declared, this was beautiful, like clockwork.
Much much later..
In the early morning hours we landed in JFK, where we got a connecting flight into DC and then to some small God-Forsaken airfield not far from base. So by the time we had made it back and turned in our reports, we were a little tired. That whole time zone thing was annoying.
I wasn't exactly in the best mood perk wise, but Sarah was wired. It might have had something to do with her four Red Bulls DC, and four more on the car ride back to base, paired with her eight fresh Nicotine patches, and the 32oz jug of Mountain Dew in hand, that she had refilled twice.
I was guessing she was planning on working the day.
By the time we found Ryan she was back in camos, and ready for action. Ryan took one look at her and asked, "Are you on Speed?"
Sarah popped her gum, her Nicoderm gum, she had probably four pieces in her mouth, "No. I had like, eight Red Bulls on the flight. I'm going to my desk." She handed him the file, turned on her boot, and off she went.
Without a word Bob handed Ryan his report, and headed for the showers. Stiff from his flight, crammed between two plus sized women, Both of which had major gas and wanted to talk to him for the flight.
Bob was not happy when we landed.
I handed Ryan my report.
I was hitting the gym first.
Ryan opened the folders one by one, "How'd she do?"
The sound of her sipping her empty soft drink emanated down the hall. "She did fine, Sir."
Ryan did a double take at Sarah's report, so I glanced down and saw why. She had used a purple glitter gel pen to write up her report. Wasn't that just precious.
