Sean returned to the scope and glimpsed a wine waiter approaching the table. After a short exchange, he came back to show him the bottle before pouring it into his wine glass. Sean watched fascinated as Zlotnik looked at the glass, without touching it and without commenting. The waiter, concerned, bent forward to speak. Sean zeroed in on the bottle. It was a Merlot from a top Israeli boutique vineyard, Clos de Gat.
Sean reached out and pressed a key on the mobile, sending the pre-entered text message. Returning to the rifle sight, he watched as the waiter removed the glass and came back with a bigger balloon glass. He poured out a little of the fine wine. Zlotnik swirled the glass, looking carefully as the Merlot coated the sides. He put it to his nose and breathed in deeply, sipping once. As he replaced the glass, he glanced at his mobile.
Sean saw him lift the phone to read the message.
‘Give supper to your enemy.’
He could not possibly see Sean at this distance, but he must have sensed he was nearby.
For a moment Sean recalled Natasha’s father, pleading with him at her grave not to take justice into his hands. He touched the St. Christopher’s medal in his pocket. It was the only thing he had left of Natasha. He remembered her, the way she relished life, the way she loved him. She would not want him to kill anyone, especially out of revenge.
Very deliberately Zlotnik lifted the glass to savour the wine a final time. Before tasting, he raised the glass in salute.
Sean recalled his last conversation with Zlotnik in Moscow, outside the church of St. Andrew’s. Then, he thought the man was seeking to defect. But Sean was wrong, and now he knew the truth. That one simple action meant Zlotnik wanted to die. That was why it had been so straightforward to track the man, so easy to get him in the cross-hairs. By murdering Natasha, Zlotnik had guaranteed Sean would be his executioner.
Sean lined up the sight on the man’s forehead and held his breath.
Gently, he squeezed the trigger.