Joshua felt a rush of adrenaline as he looked down into the square. He was 200 feet up, on the edge of the spire of a Regency-era church. From here he could see every crowded inch below. It caused the familiar sensation of controlled adrenaline to rise in his gut. This was the stress point of any assignment. The moment he could no longer walk away. It was what he lived for.
Every detail was visible through his rifle’s telescopic sight. Joshua drank in the information, taking just moments to spot the obstacles that could still stand in his way. A less skilled professional would have taken longer to weigh up the evidence. Joshua was nothing if not efficient.
He moved away from the scope. It had told him all it could for now. Instead he viewed the crowd below with his naked eye. The numbers were immense. He wondered – not for the first time – at how unsuitable the location was. Joshua could see the political thinking. Where else for a ceremony to honour the British heroes of the recent Middle Eastern wars than Trafalgar Square, London’s monument to military glory? But historical resonance made it no less of a security nightmare.
A grim smile threatened the corner of Joshua’s mouth, brought on by the chaos below. The area might be policed by the world’s finest security agencies, but any problems they faced were to Joshua’s advantage. Right now those problems were legion.
Joshua’s hands returned to his rifle.
With the slightest movement, the barrel swept upwards, his eye back behind the scope. He scanned the surrounding rooftops and spotted nineteen sharpshooters in less than a minute. It was rare that he was able to do this so quickly. It might even be unique, but then this was a unique contract. Every other assignment of Joshua’s long career shared a common feature: the need to stay hidden in order to achieve the shot. Not today. Today Joshua had to remain in sight. If he did not, every one of those nineteen marksmen would wonder where their twentieth man had gone.