The Albanian shifted the canvas bag to his left shoulder and nodded at the Red Sky agent walking by. The more private security the better, as far as he was concerned. The multinationals all did business with him and were more than willing to hand over their uniforms for his missions. At this point, he and his men could pass as a member of any of them.
After escaping from the police last night, he’d sketched the other assassin’s face from memory. Granted, he hadn’t gotten a leisurely look at her, but he did his best. He took a picture of the drawing with his phone, then uploaded it to the SVR servers.
Nothing.
That probably meant his sketch hadn’t been accurate enough. Then he scanned for female agents, African American, Indian, Asian—hell, it had been impossible to determine in the dark. He didn’t find anyone resembling her. He’d sent the sketch to Kiselev’s assistant in case he could find a lead.
He continued down the hallway, grateful he didn’t pass anyone else. He’d already moved his equipment to the service room he’d picked as a second choice, but after last night’s encounter, he changed his mind. He would set up behind the mechanism that ran the retractable roof. More secure. The shot would be harder, but he could manage it.
He continued around the slow curve of the coliseum. Near the room holding the roof machinery, he spotted a handy closet across the hall. He picked the lock and dumped his gear except for his scope, then crossed the hallway and broke into the ceiling control room.
“Hey, nobody’s allowed in here,” came a shout. A man in a blue hard hat walked toward him.
“Just doing a security sweep.”
“They already did one earlier.”
“Yeah, they’ve doubled up. Maybe tripled. Apparently, there’s some kind of threat.”
The worker looked at the lanyard ID that Dushku had stolen last night and doctored to add his own photo. “Should we wish him luck?” he whispered, a mischievous look on his face.
Dushku chuckled. “Know what you mean. So, I’m supposed to slap a seal on the door. How long you going to be?”
It was too early to take the guy out. He’d be missed this afternoon.
“Just finishing up.”
“Should I check back in fifteen?”
“Sounds good.”
Dushku turned to leave.
“Hey, you know I was joking, right?”
Dushku tried for a good guy smile. “Sure. No problem.”
He headed around the curve of the hall, then decided to go down and get his food and water provisions topped off. Once he camped out in the ceiling control room, he would stay until the job was done.
At one of the concessions downstairs, he bought a pastrami on rye, then went to another store and picked up a packaged roast beef sandwich and large water. Further down, he bought another packaged sandwich, tuna on white, and two bottles of water.
He headed back up. On his way toward the room, he slapped a couple of seals on doors that led to the lights and scrawled indecipherable initials on them. He knew Cobra Squad would be using these seals after they finished their last sweep.
He was happy to find the control room empty this time. He made his way out onto the platform that led to the fixed trichord truss and studied the roof. The system was enormous. An impressive piece of engineering.
He walked down the truss a few feet and the stage came into view. There was enough room for the tripod. He took out his scope and studied the line of sight. A longer distance. He’d have to be precise to shoot between two steel beams that held a truss in place, but he could do it.
With a satisfied grunt, he retrieved his gear and put a seal on the door before he closed it, hoping it would cover the crack. Then he sat on the floor and ate his pastrami while it was still warm. He unpacked and checked his gun. He’d cleaned it last night, but he took it apart and cleaned it again. Checked the scope, the silencer. He couldn’t risk setting up yet. Too much time to be discovered. He’d wait until the crowd was here making a big ruckus. Right before the candidates were introduced.
After he finished preparing his kit, he settled down for a nap. Best be sharp for the night’s work.