“You not gonna ask how much?”
“It doesn’t matter about the cost,” I reply with a shrug. “I don’t think you’ll rip me off, given how impressive and established your business is.”
Oscar smiles proudly. “You good for handguns? Can never be too prepared, y’know…”
I reach behind me and draw one of my custom Beretta 92FS pistols with a blood-red devil face engraved on the butt. I hold it out by the barrel, offering it to him.
“I’ve got it covered,” I say with a smile.
He let out a low whistle as he takes it, inspecting it with a professional eye.
“Very nice…” he says nodding. “These are in great condition.” He hands it back and claps his hands once with a smile. “Okay, that’ll be sixty-five hundred for everything.”
I turn to Josh. “Would you be so kind as to pay the man?” I ask him.
Josh turns and walks back out to the reception desk with Oscar behind him, carrying my purchases. I take a deep breath and let it out with a heavy sigh, looking around at the warehouse one last time before following Josh.
Time to go to work.
19
We’re parked across the street from King’s nightclub. We left Oscar’s supermarket and headed straight here, but the journey back took a little longer than before because the streets were busier, crammed with shoppers and commuters and family sedans. I’d driven here while Josh worked away on his laptop in the back. I wanted to get a feel for the place before heading for the bus terminal and settling in for the kill. After sitting at seemingly every red light in the damn city, we finally arrived here a few minutes ago.
“Looks closed to me,” I say, looking at the club.
“Must just be strip joints that cater for the desperate midday crowd,” Josh offers without looking up from his computer.
I smile. “You sure you’re okay with going in on clean-up duty after I take care of this King asshole?”
Josh closes the laptop and looks across the street for a moment before turning to me. “Of course,” he says with a smile. “I’m looking forward to it, and I wanna help. Not just sit here and talk you through everything like always.”
I notice a look in his eyes. A twinkle, almost. I’ve not seen it since we’d arrived in Pittsburgh a few days ago. He looks like his old self — not the worrying, vaguely depressed old woman I’ve managed to turn him into over the last week or so. It’s great to see, and it gives me a boost as well. It’s good to be on a normal job, back in the old routine, away from the self-inflicted drama of Wilson Trent. It’s not just therapy for me, it’s something I think we’re both long overdue.
I reach behind me and unfasten my holster, handing it over to Josh. These are my pride and joy… my babies. I used to have the 92A1 variants, but I lost them. These were a gift; replacements from a friend back in San Francisco.
Christ… my time there feels like another life entirely.
The guns sway back and forth gently as I hold them up, presenting them to Josh almost like a badge of honor.
“Be good to them, and they’ll be good to you,” I say.
He reaches over and takes them from me, smiling. “I feel like we’re missing the bright light shining down through the clouds, illuminating the power I now hold in my hands,” he says, laughing. He looks me in the eyes. “I’ve got your back, Boss.”
“I know,” I say. “Come on, you sentimental old woman, let’s go get into position.”
We switch seats and Josh starts the engine, pulling away from the curb and driving us round the block to the staff parking lot at the back of the bus terminal, which overlooks the back of King’s club. I climb out, stretch my arms, back, and crack my neck, before pausing to take a good look around.
The back of the parking lot has a chain-link fence around its perimeter. Across from it is the rear entrance to The Palace, separated by a small alleyway, which runs in between the properties. There are a couple of trees around, but nothing to obscure my view. Behind me is the main office building of the bus terminal, which is three stories high and has access to the roof by way of a fire escape that climbs up the sidewall facing the parking lot. From the rooftop itself, I’ll have an unimpeded view of the club.
I open the side door of the Winnebago and take out the sports bag containing my recent acquisition. I feel a rush of adrenaline as I sling it over my shoulder, feeling the comfortable and familiar weight of the weapon inside. Not counting my little escapade on Alcatraz a week or so ago, it’s been a long time since I’ve used a sniper rifle for an actual hit, and there’s always something oddly satisfying about watching your target drop from a thousand yards away, having never seen the bullet coming.
And I mean satisfying in the purely professional sense of the word… not in a weird, psychopathic kind of way, just so we’re clear!
Josh has fixed the holster in place and is putting his earpiece in as he walks over.
“All set?” he asks, handing me an earpiece of my own.
“Good to go,” I say, taking it from him and putting it in place.
We quickly check our comms are working, and then set to work.
“Wait at the back entrance for my signal,” I say. “Once you’re inside, don’t take all day — sweep quickly and cleanly up to his office, confirm the kill and get outta there. Clear?”
“Crystal, Boss. Don’t worry about me, okay? I got this.”
And I believe him. We’ve been through a lot together over the years. He wasn’t always my own personal nerd — he was, and still is, a very capable soldier. And like he said to me a few days ago, practice doesn’t do anyone any harm every once in a while.
We bump fists and head our separate ways without another word. I take a quick look around and, seeing there isn’t too many people nearby, sprint over to the fire escape. I notice just the one security camera, which is covering the back door to the building. It’s static and easily avoidable, so I’m confident no one will see me. I hadn’t expected much in the way of security to be honest — I mean, who in their right mind would want to break into a bus terminal?
Luckily, the ladder on the fire escape is already down, so I climb up and make my way to the first platform. It doesn’t take very long, and as I step onto it, I look across the parking lot and see Josh scaling the fence at the back of the club. He drops down into a crouch, waits thirty seconds, and then heads over to the back door, keeping low.
I smile to myself and carry on, moving quickly along the platform and up the next flight of steps, then again until I come out on the rooftop. Despite the heavy cloud and the high mist that indicates a pending shower, I have a pretty good view all around me, and I pause for a moment to soak it in. The Allegheny River runs parallel to the building on the north side, with the Crosstown Boulevard off to the east. There’s a closed maintenance door on the roof leading into the building.
I’m all alone up here.
I crouch down at the edge of the roof, looking across to King’s club. I can see Josh in position, waiting patiently, ever aware of his surroundings. I set the sports bag down and unzip it, taking out the Steyr HS rifle and looking at it approvingly for a moment. I take out the thermal scope and carefully attach it into place, making sure I don’t remove the lens cap until the last minute, to avoid any flare-up that might give away my position.
You never know who’s watching…
Next, I load a clip of ammunition with the fifty cal’ rounds and slide it into the horizontal receiver on the barrel, slamming it firmly into place. I push the bi-pod stand down into place and lie down on my front, adjusting myself so I’m comfortable.