THIRTY-FIVE

•   •   •

Jed didn’t sleep much during the night. An hour on, an hour off, and that’s how it went for six hours until he finally decided to get out of bed and study the shot more. Karen was still sleeping. She’d barely moved all night.

Jed grabbed the spotting scope from the table and held it up to his eye. The sun was just peeking above the horizon, dusting the sky with a dull shade of pink. There were a few high clouds, all of them cirrus. A light wind bent the blades of grass on the other side of the creek and rustled the leaves on the trees to the north of Kill Devil Hill, where the monument sat. Setup crews were already assembling the stage. Secret Service personnel roamed the area, huddled in groups of two and three, pointing here, pointing there.

The phone on the table rang, a soft chime, like the ringing of tiny bells. Jed picked it up and hit the Talk button.

“Are you ready for this, Patrick?”

It was Murphy. He sounded awake, alert, and confident.

“It’s a tough shot,” Jed said.

“But one you can make.”

“One I have to make.”

“Yes. You do.”

“Talk to me about how it’s going to happen.”

“Connelly is slated to take the stage at 1100 hours. They’ve received threats on Connelly’s life, so as a precaution, security is extra tight, the perimeter wider than usual.”

“But not this wide.”

“No. We anticipated this. And we anticipated that Connelly would refuse to cancel any of his engagements. He’s military, stubborn, like the rest of us. You’ll only get two opportunities to pull the trigger. They’ll have bulletproof shields in place, but he’ll be exposed as he climbs the stage and exits it, but only briefly.”

“What’s briefly?”

“Briefly. A second, maybe two, depending on his pacing.”

It would take longer than that for the bullet to travel the mile distance. He’d have to time the shot perfectly. It was definitely not ideal conditions. “I don’t like this,” he said. “There’s too many variables. You do realize what this involves, don’t you?”

“I do. And I realize the pressure you’re under. Everything will be in place. Everything will go as planned. You need only pull the trigger.”

“And what about windage?” He was concerned about the varying winds over the creek and coming off the ocean.

“We’ve got you covered for that. Keep this line open. It’s secure and encrypted. I’ll have men reporting wind speed to you at the creek and at intervals beyond.”

The wind speed at the creek would be most important as it was closest to his location and would have the most influence on the bullet’s path.

“You’ll get two opportunities but only one shot,” Murphy continued. “If the first is a no-go, you better make sure the second is a go. And after you take the shot, don’t worry about packing up your gear. Get out of there. The area will be in a state of chaos for a few seconds before law enforcement can get things under control. They’ll set up a wider perimeter, roadblocks, the works. But you’ll be long gone by then.”

Jed was used to shooting and scooting. That part would be second nature to him.

“If this is a bust, won’t there be other opportunities to take him out? He surely has other speeches to give in public settings.”

Murphy sighed on the other end of the phone. “We’ve waited too long already. Didn’t think he was as far along as he is. Our sources say Connelly is planning to make his move soon. A matter of days, not weeks. We need to end this now or it will be too late.”

Jed didn’t like his odds. It wasn’t that the shot was nearly impossible —he’d taken and made very difficult shots in the past. And it wasn’t that the pressure would be too great —he was used to firing under immense pressure. It was that the life of his daughter was on the line. And because of that he almost told Murphy to forget the whole thing. He’d go rogue, find Lilly, and rescue her himself. He’d done it before.

“Patrick,” Murphy said. His voice was low and serious. “You can do this. You hear me? You have to. Do what you have to do, talk to Karen, pray, whatever, but you need to do this. You can and you will.”