Salih showered, shaved, and put on a suit and tie. He picked up his attaché case and checked his appearance in a full-length mirror. Perfect. He felt a little anxious, but that was only natural. He’d be fine.
Salih took the Metro downtown and joined the crush of commuters heading for work. He walked down the block and went into an office building.
At the front desk, the security guard asked him where he was going, and he named a company on one of the higher floors. The guard nodded, asked him for a photo ID. Salih fumbled in his wallet for the driver’s license Abdul-Hakim had given him. The guard took it and compared Salih’s face to the photo. When they matched, the guard said, “Nineteenth floor,” and handed the ID back. He didn’t even write down Salih’s name.
Salih took the elevator up to the nineteenth floor. Two people got off with him. One went into the office near the elevator. The other went into the office he’d named.
Salih waited until they were gone, then pushed his way through the fire door to the service stairs. He went up two flights, stepped over the chain, and went up the steps to the roof.
The door was unlocked, as he’d been told it would be. He pushed it open and stepped out onto the roof.
It took a moment to get his bearings. To his right was the back of the building, so the street was on the left. He crept to the edge of the street side and peered over. It was a long way down, but Salih had no fear of heights. He watched the traffic in the street below, slow-moving during rush hour. It would thin out soon.
Salih had a good view of the entrance across the street. People were arriving for work. He was early.
Salih set his attaché case on the roof. He knelt down, clicked it open, and raised the top.
His sniper’s rifle fit as perfectly as if the case had been made for it, which indeed it had. Custom built to look like an attaché, the case boasted a snug but carefully padded space for every piece of the disassembled sniper’s rifle, from the stock to the scope. There was even a space for the box of shells Abdul-Hakim had given him. Not that he would need them. One bullet would be sufficient, even at such a distance. He had spent enough time on the range to be sure of that. Nonetheless, Salih had packed the whole box of bullets. It was better to take them than risk having to explain why he hadn’t.
Salih took out the scope and lined up the entrance across the street. It was crystal clear in the scope. He might as well have been standing right there.
Now for the hard part.
Waiting.
Salih found a nice spot where he could sit with his back against a chimney. He set his case on the roof, and carefully assembled his rifle.