I nodded, “Right, now anyone who shoots would rather shoot at a stationary target, but our boy ain’t stationary. Now let’s assume you gonna shoot him, you know you got to lead him, basically, shoot not where he is, but where you estimate he will be when the bullet arrives.” O’Shea was nodding, “Right, but I mean, the closer you are the less you lead him, right?” I agreed “Right, but the problem in shooting from a distance is knowing how fast the target is moving laterally and how long it will take the bullet to arrive at the correct point. His movement is the unknown, so that makes the shot that much more difficult.”
O’Shea looked at me, “That’s what I mean, that’s why this shot is almost impossible; unless we know exactly how fast he will walk you could miss completely.” He was correct, “Exactly, but let me ask you to try something, sit on the end of bed and stand up.” He looked at me but did as I asked. “Ok, now do it again and again.” He did it several times. “I don’t get it, what am I doing.” I smiled “Your rate of ascent; was the almost the same every time, in other words, your body ended up in exactly the same place at the same time, each time. That’s a fact of human nature, we just get up at the same pace, unless we stumble or some other anomaly occurs.” He stilled looked totally puzzled “Look, from the time your feet hit the floor, till the time your head is at its highest point, remains constant or roughly constant. That means that for Guzman to become fully erect will take very nearly the same time, every time. So let’s assume I’m five hundred yards away from Guzman, if I know exactly when his feet hit the pavement, I also know exactly when my bullet should be where his body will end up. Now assuming around 2800 fps for the round leaving the muzzle, and at five hundred yards around 1900 fps, I can calculate a average speed of 2350 fps, that means the round needs to leave my barrel three quarters of a second before he reaches full height. You got that?”
O’Shea grinned; “Where you did you come up with this shit from, yea I get it? Crap, so you saying, he will be at the door of the car for around two seconds, long enough to put a bullet in him.” I nodded in agreement, “Right, now of course that’s not the only factor, there is wind, humidity, shit like that to calculate, but that would be the best time for a shot. Now Carl is the man who will need to agree, not you or me, he is the best at this. Five hundred yards isn’t that great a distance, but the bullet moving from up to down poses another problem.”
O’Shea sat on the end of the bed, “So, let’s just say all this mumbo jumbo works and Carl puts a round in him, how the hell does Carl get away?” I looked at him, “That my friend; is the question.”
Chapter 76
Carl had arrived around 9 PM that same night, we decided to grab a late dinner and discuss our situation. We decided on Italian food and Carmines was a perfect choice. After drinks were ordered I showed Carl the pictures I had copied from the laptop. He studied them all, and then went back over them again; “This room for the hide, what the story with the window?” I had studied the room and made a few notes; “The building is old and the windows open, not like the new building being built. I was able to open it while I was inside; it opened enough to clear the target.”
Carl nodded and studied more pictures, “Good, so what’s your estimation of the range and angle of deflection?” I looked at my paper work, “Range just around five hundred yards angle about twenty eight degrees.” Carl loved this stuff “not too bad, doable for sure. I brought some special ammunition, just in case. Hot and heavy stuff about 2800 fps, but should do the job. If the shot were longer I would go lighter, but one eighty for five hundred yards is perfect. Plus the extra weight might help if we get a cross wind at any of those corners. I would surely like to know what the wind is doing at each one, but there isn’t anywhere to put markers, so we will need to assume whatever is happening at 64th will be happening at all of them. I don’t like assuming, but we got no choice.”
O’Shea had been sitting quietly studying Carl “Jesus Carl, you act like this is nothing. You didn’t even ask about how to get out of there after; doesn’t that even bother you?” Carl looked at O’Shea and smiled “Shit, that’s Jessie end of the business, he makes the plan, I make the shot, that’s the way it’s always been.”
O’Shea was shaking his head, I interrupted, “Well as long as we on the subject let’s talk about that. Our problem isn’t getting in and out; our problem is the target being unpredictable. We have no idea when or if he will be coming. I would be willing to bet he comes, but when is the problem. I looked that building over pretty good, it’s open twenty four hours so we have access. I made sure the room couldn’t be locked, so that’s no problem, knowing when he will arrive is the issue. Carl can’t sit in that room for days waiting, he will be discovered, so we need some lead time, say ten minutes, Jimmy, that’s your job. If you get eyes on Guzman’s car at his warehouse and follow him, as soon as he even looks like he is entering Manhattan we set up. If he isn’t coming to the apartment, we break it down and wait, if he is coming, then we act. Carl can wait in the coffee shop on the street, ten minutes is plenty time to setup. What do you think Carl?” Carl nodded “Yes ten minutes is plenty enough; I could use the stairs and still make it.” I looked at O’Shea “Ok bud; its showtime, it’s yes or no, decision time.” He sighed, “Fuck let’s do this.”
Chapter 77
Carl Rome was accustomed to working in urban areas. Carl had been attached to a special unit outside of US Army Command and specifically trained for urban environments. Carl was primarily a shooter, but his instructors soon realized his talents extended far beyond that. Carl had a knack for blending in, for becoming part of the background, a particularly important skill. The trainers also noticed one other thing; Carl never showed fear or remorse. He executed his assignment never looking back.
Carl, like all people in his profession was extremely detail oriented. It was the little things that kept you alive, and Carl was good at the little things. One of the little things was his weapon of choice. Carl had a German DSR-1 retrofitted for 300 Magnum and a detachable sound suppressor. He had sighted the rifle for four hundred yards and could field strip and reassemble it in less than ten seconds.
So two days after arriving in Manhattan Carl was wandering the streets surrounding the Medical Center. He had worn different clothes of different colors every day and changed several times a day, but one thing was constant, he always pulled a rolling suitcase behind him. He was amazed that no one seemed to notice or care that the same man was there every day. This fact always intrigued Carl, he was trained to notice things, little things, but he was happy other weren’t, his invisibility was assured.
Carl had already prepared the perch he would fire from. The desk had been moved into the proper position to give support for his shot. Insulation from the room being remodeled across the hall had been stacked around the room to absorb sound. The suppressor on the rifle helped, but it also lessened accuracy, he wasn’t going to use it, unless the 15th floor was occupied during his shot.
He carried one other important tool. Carl carried a small Taser C2 handheld stun gun. He had no desire to kill anyone, but also no desire to be detained.
Chapter 78
I was so bored I could have screamed, two more days of wandering around the same area of Manhattan was maddening. I had watched hundreds of people come and go from the apartment house, I felt like I knew all the residents, but no call from O’Shea telling me he was on the way. I had seen Carl during my wanderings; he was doing much the same. But Carl never looked tired or bored, he just looked like Carl, nothing much seemed to faze him. I saw the black rolling suitcase he pulled behind him, giving no indication of the deadly weapon it contained. I had watched him disassemble and reassemble his rifle a hundred times in the hotel room, treating it much as you would a child or a lover, always gentle. I was just glad Carl was my friend.
I had actually spoken to Rachael on the phone. She spoke softly but it was so amazing to hear her voice. The doctors couldn’t explain her progress, but eve
rything pointed to a slow but steady recovery. Shelby and Walter had saved her life; Shelby had filled me in on the details of that night. Our luck held, had he not awaken when he did the outcome would have been totally different. Walter had proved himself to be a deadly and reliable bodyguard, I was sure he had many more talents we hadn’t yet discovered.
At 12:35 PM O’Shea had reported that Guzman had left his warehouse and gone to a restaurant a few miles away. Guzman had been getting more confident in his movements. He had begun leaving his warehouse several times per day, but he had not yet come to the apartments.
It was 2:22 PM when O’Shea reported he had left the restaurant but was not going in the direction of his warehouse. At 2:36 I got the call I had been waiting for, Guzman was entering the Holland Tunnel, preparing to enter Manhattan. I alerted Carl to stand by that we might be going to work. I positioned myself across 64th Street from the apartment house, my job was simple. Assess the wind, and when Guzman’s feet hit the ground and he was preparing to standup; I would alert Carl; that would mean we were one and one half second from our shot.
Chapter 79
Carl was one half block away from the Medical School when Jessie’s voice in his earpiece told him Guzman had entered the city. Not appearing to move any faster he simply turned and began the walk toward his goal. Thirty seconds later he was standing just outside the school waiting for the final confirmation before entering, no sense spending any more time exposed than necessary. At 2:45 PM that confirmation came, Guzman’s car had turned onto York Avenue and was six blocks away.
Carl climbed the stairs carrying his suitcase and entered the building. He boarded the elevator and exited the 15th floor. There was one construction worker in the hall and noises coming from the adjacent room. Carl had no problem with the worker, the more noise, the better; he entered the end room, removed the shim Jessie had placed to prevent locking the door, and locked it behind him. He laid his suitcase on a chair and began unpacking and assembling his rifle. His Leupold Long Range Scope was already mounted on the rifles receiver. Another call in his ear told him Jessie had spotted Guzman’s car. Since there were others on the floor he added the suppressor to the rifle, he added the loaded magazine and chambered a round. He extended the legs of the bi-pod and opened the window. Carl had practiced this before, he laid the rifle on the desk and using another chair sat and shouldered the weapon. Now he was ready, looking through the scope he could clearly see the entrance of the apartment building and Jessie standing across the street.
He could clearly see Jessie’s mouth move when his earpiece told him Guzman’s car was pulling up. A black Mercedes had stopped in front of the building. Carl began his breathing exercise, preparing to control his movement for the shot. He saw the drivers and passenger door open on the car and two men step out, he waited.
The two men stood and looked around for seven seconds, when all seemed clear, the driver moved to the rear passenger door. He looked around one last time and opened the door. Carl was totally focused, at that moment he was truly in his zone.
Suddenly in his ear he heard what he had been waiting for “On the ground.” Carl took his final breath, let the air out, counted for one second, acquired the site picture he wanted, and squeezed the trigger.
Five hundred and eleven yards away Antonio Guzman had begun standing on the curb in front of his apartment. Just as he reached full extension the 180 grain Eagle Precision Bonded Subsonic projectile passed three inches over the open car door and struck him in his right bicep, passed through and entered the chest cavity. The round did just what it was designed to do. It penetrated three inches into this chest cavity and rotated one hundred eighty degrees, thus continuing through his body base first. It rapidly expanded as it passed through his right lung, exiting his right lung and being fully expanded it passed through his Aortic Arch. It then continued through his left lung and exited the body becoming lodged in the left forearm. Guzman was effectively dead before he realized he had even been shot.
He slumped back against the car and suddenly fell forward onto the sidewalk. His bodyguards rushed to him, and the doorman, who had opened the apartment door, began to rush outside. The bodyguards had their pistols out, looking for the threat. The doorman seeing the weapons went back to his station inside the front door and called 911. By the time the 911 operator answered the doorman, Carl had already dissembled his rifle and had begun repacking it; he picked up the one spent brass, unlocked and exited the door. The 911 operator made a call to a police unit in the vicinity. The unit was eight blocks away and the two officers were standing outside by a street vendor having coffee. They ran to their car, jumped inside and called dispatch to confirm the call.
By the time the call was confirmed Carl had walked down two flights of stairs and was waiting for the elevator on 12. He caught the elevator and exited at ground level, as he exited the building the first police unit passed in front of the building heading down York Avenue. At that very moment Carl was exiting the building wearing a white lab coat and pulling his suitcase behind him. Carl crossed York Street and walked uptown toward 70th, no one paid any attention to him.
Chapter 80
I didn’t even hear the shot, but two seconds after I told Carl that Guzman’s feet were on the ground I saw him stumble sideways slightly. He stood still for a second or two then collapsed forward face down on the sidewalk. At first the bodyguards reacted slowly; then one of them noticed the blood sprayed onto the car. They were hovering over Guzman’s body with their semi-automatic pistols in hand. I waited long enough to see that Carl had done his job; Guzman wasn’t getting up ever again.
I turned and began to walk up 64th Street and back toward my hotel. I phoned O’Shea and told him to clear out the area and head back to the hotel. I walked four blocks and hailed a taxi to the Marriott, the area around the apartment would get getting hot very fast.
I was the first to arrive back and about five minutes later Carl entered. I smiled at him, I knew Carl, no need to tell him the results, Carl doesn’t pull the trigger until he is sure of the outcome. He hadn’t stuck around to see; he took the shot, and made his exit. Fifteen minutes later O’Shea came in, we were watching the television and saw the reports of someone shot in the city, but no details were yet available.
O’Shea sat on the foot of the bed next to me watching the television. “How do we know he is dead?” I looked at Carl and then at him and smiled. “Cause Carl made the shot, that’s all the proof we need.” Carl added, “With that projectile, it don’t matter where you get hit, the internal bleeding gonna do the job before they can stop it, he’s gone.” O’Shea shook his head “Ok, you say so, I hope you’re right and I hope this solves your problem. You know, someone’s gonna step up and take his place, just cause he is dead don’t mean everything stops.” I nodded, “I know that, but all we can do is hope and take it a day at a time, now I just want to go home and see my wife, I spoke to her this morning, she is doing much better.” I had explained to O’Shea what had happened, he had asked several times a day how she was doing and if he could help. It was after 3 PM and a flight would be hard to book that evening, plus the Manhattan traffic would be brutal. We decided to stay the night, enjoy a good dinner together. Carl would start the drive home in the morning and I would fly out on the first available flight. O’Shea hadn’t decided what he was doing, he officially was on vacation; he was considering making it permanent.
Chapter 81
The following morning I arrived at the Louis Armstrong International Airport at 11 AM. Shelby picked me up and on the drive to the hospital I explained how things went in New York. I couldn’t thank him enough for what he and Walter had done at the hospital. “Shelby, I can never repay you for what you did that night, thank you.” He looked at me and shook his head “Aw, shut up man, we’re brothers, and brother do for each other. How many time you laid it down for me and Carl? So when family needs, we do, that’s it.”
At the hospital I cried and held Rachael in my
arms. She had made steady progress and was talking and responding without much difficulty. I sat next to her and couldn’t let her hand go, the nurse told me I should leave, but we all ignored her. Walter was standing in a corner, I looked at him “Jesus, I can’t thank you enough for what you did, I owe you big time.” He smiled, “Shit Jessie, no thanks needed, just doing my job for Black Talon Global, boss.” We laughed, Rachael touched my arm, I looked at her. “Jess, there is something I need to tell you, this isn’t easy, I should have told you this a long time ago, and I’m sorry.” I was confused; I looked into her eyes and saw tears “It can’t be that bad, what is it?” She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. Walter cleared his throat; I turned and looked at him “Well Jessie, I think I know what she is trying to tell you.” He looked down and then back at me, “You see, my friends don’t call me Walter, they call me by my middle name, the one I got from my father, they call me Jessie.” My mouth was open, I turned and looked at Rachael; she was crying but was able to say, “Jessie, Walter is your son.
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