THIRTY-SEVEN
• • •
Jed sat at the table in the slideout, his .300 Win Mag propped on its bipod, scope zeroed in on the events happening by the monument on the hill. Connelly couldn’t have had a better morning to give a speech. There were only a few wisps of cloud in the sky, the temperature hovered in the midsixties, humidity was low, and surprisingly only a gentle breeze moved across the area, east to west, originating somewhere at sea and pushing its way inland, bringing with it the smell of salty ocean water.
Murphy had a man positioned in a small fishing boat in Colington Creek, disguised as a retiree on vacation and oblivious to the vice president’s visit. He also had men stationed every two hundred yards or so. Each man reported to Jed the wind direction and speed. At this distance the wind speeds were not consistent. They varied by degrees depending on the terrain and the surface it moved across. As the men relayed their information, Jed made his calculations. With this much ground to cover, he would have to be precise.
Jed peered through the scope. The crowd had gathered, several hundred in all, and covered most of the hillside. Murphy had informed Jed that those gathered were by invitation only, a precaution taken at the last moment. Fortunately Murphy had been able to work through his clandestine channels and get a few of his men on the list.
The stage was tiered with two levels. The lower level consisted of chairs where dignitaries sat, the mayor, a few council members, historical society members, and Connelly. The vice president sat between the mayor and another rather large fleshy-faced man; he was flanked in front and back by Secret Servicemen. A shot at him while he sat was impossible. It’d be like hitting a grapefruit from a mile away. The second level consisted primarily of the podium and bulletproof shield. Murphy was right, though; Connelly would be exposed for only a few feet as he stood and walked from his chair to the steps of the stage’s second level. He would again be exposed when he returned to his seat after delivering his speech.
Connelly laughed at something the mayor said and shook his hand.
“Do you see him?” Karen asked. She stood near the kitchen counter.
“What is he doing?”
“Just sitting there. Talking. Laughing.”
Jed moved the scope over the crowd, scanning for anything noteworthy. Most of the spectators stood, seeming interested and excited. A few, though, appeared obviously disinterested, paying no attention at all to what was happening on the stage. It was impossible for Jed to tell if they were Murphy’s men or Secret Servicemen assigned to protect the vice president.
As Jed continued searching the crowd, he suddenly stopped and held the crosshairs of the scope on one man. Roger Abernathy. And beside him stood Lilly, holding his hand like any granddaughter would with her poppy. Jed pulled his eye away from the scope, blinked twice, then looked through it again.
“What is it?” Karen said.
“Lilly.”
“She’s there?”
“With Abernathy.”
“So Roger is alive.”
“Seems that way.” Jed glanced away from the scope again. Until now, Jed had reserved some doubt about Murphy’s claims. There was that small voice in his head that questioned whether Murphy had been selling Jed the truth about Connelly. Now, seeing he had told the truth about Abernathy gave more credence to his concerns about the vice president. Regardless, Jed still didn’t like the man, still would never trust him fully.
Near Abernathy and Lilly, not even fifteen feet away, stood a man wearing sunglasses and a flowered Hawaiian-style shirt. He had close-cropped hair and was in military condition. Murphy had planted Lilly there as a threat —even positioned her with someone she trusted. If Jed missed or neglected to take the shot, Murphy’s goon would exact punishment on Lilly. Insurance.
Karen moved closer. “Does she look okay?”
“She looks fine.” Jed didn’t tell Karen his theory only because he needed her calm. As much as he loved her, her presence alone was a distraction, more pressure than he needed. Her being panicked or more anxious would do him no good at all.
“How about Roger?”
“He looks fine too.”
“What are they doing?”
“Just standing there in the crowd. Like spectators.”
Lilly turned her face toward Abernathy and said something. He smiled and answered her.
“Why would Murphy put her there? Why would he want her in the crowd?”
Jed hesitated. He hated lying to his wife. “I don’t know.”
“Do you think he’d kill her if you miss?”
“I don’t know. Probably not. It’s not his style.” And it wasn’t. Not in broad daylight like that. She was there only as a reminder to Jed that Murphy held all the cards and that one of those cards was Lilly’s life.
Jed moved the scope to the platform. The mayor stood at the podium and was now speaking. He used his hands a lot when he talked and made wide gestures. The crowd laughed and applauded.
Murphy had provided Jed with the order of events and speakers. The mayor would speak first, followed by a bureaucrat from the Department of the Interior, and then a bureaucrat from the National Park System. Finally Connelly would take the stage.
The mayor clapped his hands and motioned to the lower level of the platform. The large man seated next to Connelly rose and climbed the steps to the top tier. Jed counted three steps; one and a half seconds. Jed would have to pull the trigger as soon as Connelly was motioned to stand. Connelly would have been instructed to stand and walk directly to the steps without delay. No pausing to shake hands or adjust his clothing.
Jed once again panned the scope across the crowd until he found Lilly and Abernathy. They hadn’t moved from their spot and neither had the Hawaiian shirt standing near them.
Jed sighed and aimed the scope back at the platform.
“Are you okay?” Karen asked.
“Yeah.”
“You can do this?” Anxiety cracked her voice.
“Yes.”
“He’s an evil man, Jedidiah. This needs to be done.”
“I know.”
“You’re doing the right thing.”
Jed pulled his eye away from the scope but didn’t look at Karen. “I know.”
With a touch like that of a mouse gently pulling cheese from a trap, Tiffany grasped the handle of the RV’s door and pulled. It moved a fraction of an inch, then stopped. She didn’t want to force it and risk exposing herself as a wannabe intruder. If this wasn’t the camper that housed Patrick and instead some elderly couple relaxing on vacation was inside, they might think she had malevolent intentions and call the police. Of course, maybe that’s just what she needed —the commotion of a squad car’s arrival —to disrupt Patrick’s plans. But Jack said to trust no one, not even the police. The arrival of a cop could result in more than a night spent in jail for attempted breaking and entering; it could result in her death.
She decided that creating a commotion and having an officer of the law show up was not the best course of action.
She turned and looked around the grounds, trying her best to avoid appearing like a stalker who had found her prey’s habitat. In the distance, she heard the crunch of tires on gravel. A car or truck had entered the campground.
• • •
The big man didn’t speak long. Even in this cooler temperature and with the gentle breeze, he sweat profusely. He turned toward the lower tier and motioned for the next speaker. A middle-aged man in a park ranger’s uniform stood and took the stage, shook hands with the big guy, and positioned himself behind the podium. He was small, thin, and seemed lost on the stage. He ran his finger under his collar, said something, then laughed nervously.
A voice spoke into Jed’s earpiece: “Got quarter wind from your twelve on the water.”
Another voice followed, this one deeper, slower. “Same from your twelve at position two.”
The wind was moving east to west, heading directly at Jed. He kept his scope on the speaker. He didn’t think the man would stay long behind the podium. It was obvious he was uncomfortable in front of a crowd.
“What’s happening?” Karen asked.
Jed ignored her. He moved the scope from the speaker to Connelly seated on the lower tier. He’d aim for the space between the chair where Connelly was seated and the edge of the glass shield around the speaker’s platform. That was the only shot he’d have and it would need to be timed perfectly.
With the scope back on the speaker, Jed breathed evenly, long, slow inhalation followed by steady exhalation. The conditions were about as good as he could expect for the shot.
C’mon, c’mon. Wrap it up. He needed to take the shot now before the winds shifted or something unexpected happened.
Finally the park ranger turned slightly to his right and glanced at Connelly. That was it. Jed centered the scope on Connelly.