The only problem he could see was the angles involved. If he had to shoot into a building from where he was located, at a target that was a great deal higher than him, that could add a serious complication. The best place to have been was hidden in one of the buildings that looked down on the front of the business—that way he could have a decent chance of being at the same level.
He had no doubt that he could quickly calculate the cosine of the angle and figure that into any shot he needed to take, but he might have to shoot through building materials to reach the sniper. The bullets he had designed were very stable over extremely long range, but he had never shot them through the side of a building to see how that affected their trajectory and penetration. And at an extreme range, it might not even have enough energy to reliably kill what he was shooting at.
The idea was to put a very large hole in whatever you were shooting and let the air out. He had experimented with hyper-velocity, small caliber bullets, but too often they disintegrated on the way to the target, leaving merely a lead spray in the air—pretty, but not very accurate or effective.
The recoil of his rifle was beyond brutal and his shoulder still ached from his shooting session yesterday. But he hoped that all he would need to take was only one shot.
The only other vehicle in the lot was a fiberglass bodied van that said “Peerrman Plumbing” on the side. Leo had watched it carefully—what the hell was a plumbing truck doing sitting in an empty parking lot? But there was no movement from the vehicle and it looked to have been parked there all night. It was suspicious enough that he made special note of it on his shooting diagram including the range and where he would shoot if someone emerged from it. Maybe there was someone inside it, watching him—he'd read that some surveillance vehicles had special mechanisms that would lock the suspension so that you could practically Disco in the back and not have it move at all.
He wished that he had a thermal imager—not that it might not penetrate the sides of the fiberglass van, but it had other possible uses. It could also show any place in the nearby offices that were occupied—and could contain a sniper who was gunning for Jackie.
Speaking of Jackie, this must be one hell of a shock for her, being the hunted. Leo really didn't know what that felt like, always having been on the other side of the rifle. He figured that the cops or feds would figure out who James Phillips really was and then someone would put two and two together along with the hotel credit card usage in Denver and start asking the right questions.
He planned to be long gone before that happened. He could live so far off the grid that he didn't exist. Hidden in his truck was over fifty thousand dollars in well-used bills and three times that amount in untraceable gold bullion. Food and ammo was all he needed to be happy and mostly that came cheap.
Would Jackie want to join him? She was pleasant enough of a companion—mostly quiet, which is what he, a man who spent most of his life inside his own head, liked. Maybe she would be completely different when the weight of people trying to kill her was lifted.
Hell, he had gone his entire life alone and any change would have to be carefully considered, weighed and calculated, very much like a thousand yard rifle shot in gusting winds.
Forcing himself back to the task at hand, he took another sweep around the area with his binoculars. When was Jackie going to present herself as bait?
###
Allan Wells peered into the laptop's screen. For fourteen hours of sitting, the only thing stirring was some plastic grocery sacks and an old newspaper blowing in an ill breeze. The targeting computer had locked onto them, but quickly discarded them as the possible target. He was proud of his software and hardware. Ideally, and someday, he could hire some throwaway minion to set up the rifle system while he sat on a beach somewhere getting ripped on drinks with flowers and umbrellas in them. But that was still at least two versions away.
He didn't like being so close to where the target could appear, but he couldn't help it—the tall buildings around the site prevented any line-of-sight communications and there weren't any wireless Internet access points that he could hijack for his own use. His equipment had told him that there was a high speed access point right in the building he sat next to, but with his limited skills, he couldn't break into it.
Having gone over the targeting package on the subject he was to shoot, he figured it was Jackie Winn who had set it up. Damn the bitch, he mumbled to himself.
He stood up and stretched, careful not to bang his head on the low ceiling of the van. It had started life as a delivery truck for a bread company that had gone out of business and he had picked it up for a little over a song. It had a new engine, rebuilt transmission and had been completely gutted inside. There was a decently equipped bathroom, a small kitchen including a microwave and refrigerator, a hidden locker containing a rifle and ammunition and a handgun. The rest of the van was outfitted so that he could maintain and practically rebuild his rifle system. Off in a corner was a futon, which was stacked with servos and controllers.
After this job, he was going to take a little time off while he figured out what direction he wanted to take with his remote sniper system. There was a long list of improvements that were possible, but he was working himself to the conclusion that he should pretty much start from scratch. Sure, he could reuse some of the software, but the rest of the design needed to be scrapped. Technology had changed so much over the past five years that he could practically build the entire system with off-the-shelf components, micro-controllers, computer, sensors and servos. The ideal system would be cheap, easy to maintain, could be fitted with several different rifles—including a semi-automatic—and be a great deal easier to calibrate and maintain. Heck, if he did it right, there might be a decent market for such a system with the military and police departments. The news was full of reports of unmanned drones killing bad guys all over the world, why not an unmanned sniper system? With facial recognition software, it could be hidden someplace and wait for the appropriate target to come strolling by and kill it.
There was a flash on the monitor, something like the optical data stream had been interrupted. With a roll of the screen, it settled back down again. All of the figures from the rifle and sensor pack seemed to be within normal parameters. He moved the joystick and the rifle seemed to track back and forth like it should have.
It was the first time that something like this had ever happened and he wondered what caused it. He opened up another screen and checked another set of sensors—this one on the rifle itself. There it was, one of the video controller boards was running hotter than it should have. Prelude to failure? It also seemed to be drawing more power than it should have. He wondered how long it would be before it failed. Somewhere in the van was another board, but he would have to power down the entire system, replace the board, do a quick calibration, and then restart all aspects of the system. If everything worked well, it would take at least two hours for the system to be back on line. Damn it all.
He could see that there was starting to be degradation in the video signal. How long would it last before it failed completely?
Then there was a movement on the monitor. The rifle started tracking it, numbers coming up on the screen with range, ambient air temperature, humidity, wind speed and projected readings of these values at the target. The computer made adjustments to the cross hairs based on the data the sensors had come up with.
Using the joystick, he zoomed in and then compared the person on the monitor to the head and face shot of Jackie Winn that he had taped above the monitor. It included height and weight statistics. From all that he could see, it was Jackie, the right hair cut, facial shape, build and height.
Flicking off the safety switch, he centered the cross hairs on her chest. He felt that he could do a head shot at this range, but with the equipment starting to crap out, it would be best to take the sure shot rather than anything fancy.
She paused, seeming to stare right at him.
He flipp
ed a switch to fire the rifle. The sonic crack of the 180 grain boat tailed hollow point blasting past his van at 2,900 feet per second was comforting.
The rifle settled down from its recoil and he looked at the front door where Jackie had stood. The window was punctured, but there didn't appear to be any blood—that round should have blown her chest out through her back dumping close to three thousand foot pounds behind the bullet. Had he missed?
A gunshot slammed through the parking lot, rocking the van where he was sitting. What the fuck?The camera system on the rifle was now twisted, like it had been knocked off its base. There was another gunshot—the monitor went black, tracking data fading from screen last. Was someone was shooting at his rifle system? And had they killed it?
He turned off the monitor and then back on again. Same black screen. Someone, a damn good someone, had counter-sniped his rifle system. He stuck a key into a lock, turned it and pressed a button activating a self destruct mechanism—ten minutes from now, anyone close would be in a world of hurt. Now, it was time to get out of Dodge.
Crawling up to the front of the van, he put it in gear, retracted the vehicle lock down system and pulled out into traffic. He hadn't fulfilled the hit, and wondered who had shot his robot rifle system. Whoever it was, there was going to be hell to pay.
###
Leo figured he had killed the sniper—two shots right into the window where the bullet aimed at the front door of Jackie's business. The clue had been that there was a window open, the only one in that particular business, and he had seen the curtains move as the shot came out. There wasn't a gunshot, just the sonic crack from the bullet breaking the sound barrier. The space he had shot into was big enough that he felt like he should put another round into the same space to make sure of the kill.
The next task at hand was to assess the area and confirm his kill. While there was no blood splatter after the rifle came down from recoil like he was used to, the shots had felt right on. If someone had been in that room shooting at Jackie, they were dead.
He slid his rifle into a soft guitar case, tossed the rest of his gear into a duffel bag and quickly screwed on a couple of the screws of the industrial air conditioner. Someone would replace them later, and besides, it was a major pain in the ass dealing with the little screws while wearing gloves. It would have to do for now.
He looked over the edge of the building leaning on his hidden ladder. No one. Good.
Slipping the ladder over the side, he climbed down it, still feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It had been years since he had shot at something with two legs and he almost missed the feeling.
Collapsing the ladder, he tossed it onto the roof of the truck and strapped it down. He had considered leaving it, maybe tossing it onto the roof, but the less evidence that was left behind the better. Besides, he might find another use for it.
He glanced down at his watch. From last shot until now, two minutes and twelve seconds. Way the hell too slow; he'd have to work on that. Figure eight minutes for the cops to show up, was what he read that bank robbers practiced to be in and out of a bank. He was going to have to work with the idea that he didn't have a back up team to sprint him away, getting themselves arrested if need be in order to slow up the authorities while he got the hell out of Dodge.
Keying his radio, he said, “Ready to go on this end. You clear?”
“Been that way for a bit. Pick me up.” Just for a moment, he wondered how she had gotten the sniper to take the shot. He hadn't seen her project herself in the window like they had practiced.
He drove the truck over to the pick-up point, about twenty yards from where she went in. Pulling up, he glanced around and saw that there was no one around. Tapping his horn lightly, he was surprised when she stepped out of the shadows.
“How'd it go?” he asked as she climbed into the cab.
“Great. How about you?”
“I got off two shots into where I figured the sniper was. How did you manage to get him to shoot at you?”
“For some reason, there was a huge wireless data stream, pictures, all sorts of other information. I hijacked it, inserted the pictures I wanted them to see and then there was the sound of glass breaking. Which makes me wonder about something.”
“Yes?”
“You wouldn't shoot at something based on what you saw on a computer monitor, would you?”
“No. I have to have eyes on the target.”
After a pause, she said, “Well, given the data along with the picture, and that I was able to intercept and hijack the data stream, I don't think that there was a human behind that rifle. Otherwise, why would they need to send so much data? I saw stuff like humidity, range and a bunch of other things that I didn't understand.”
Leo considered what she had said. It was logical, up to a certain point. There were stories about Unmanned Aerial Vehicles, UAVs, in the news all the time, taking out terrorists in Afghanistan with Hellfire missiles while the pilots sat in some bunker in Nevada. Why not have something similar rigged up controlling a rifle? A remote controlled sniper was the next logical step. Though there were some shots that were still more art than science—even a sophisticated computer didn't have the experience programmed in to take in the hundreds of variables that taking a long distance, very accurate shot takes. Of the millions of rifle shooters in the world, probably less than a hundred could do what he did on a consistent basis.
He explained what he figured might have happened. The plan had been to wait for a while to make sure that the backup team, if there was one, had cleared out before going to where Leo figured the sniper had been hiding, and then looking for clues as to who had sent him. While Leo hadn't expected to find anything—when he had worked, it had been without any ID, personal belongings or anything. His last job, he had been instructed to wear a Tyvek suit and in the urban heat, it had been brutal. But there would have been no traces of hair or fibers for anyone to find even if they had been able to discover the shooting site.
Now, there was more emphasis on getting to the shooting site and seeing if there was anything that could help them find out who was trying to kill Jackie.
He drove around to the front of the building. Surprisingly, there were no police.
“Wonder why the cops aren't here?”
Jackie shrugged, “It's Saturday. Probably no one around to hear any shots.”
He pointed out the window into which he had shot. There were no bullet holes, but it was the only one of three windows on that side of the building that was open.
“How do you want to do this?” he asked.
“There isn't a back door, just a loading dock, which will be too loud to get open and be too obvious. If we go in the front door, and are caught, we might very well be able to make it look like we are supposed to be there.”
“How?
“Human engineering. Do it all the time. You look and act like you are supposed to be someplace, you generally get left alone.”
There was a loud whoosh. Flames shot from the window where the sniper or remote sniper had been hiding.
Chapter 14
Jackie knew that there was going to be no way they would get any information now that what Leo had suspected was the remote sniper was on fire. She would have loved to have gotten a very close look at the computers running such a system. Mostly, it was because she wanted to find out who was trying to kill her, but also because she was curious about all things mechanical and electronic.
“Thermite,” Leo muttered, putting the truck into gear.
“What?”
“The flames look like they are from thermite—a composition of metal powder and a metal oxide that produces an aluminothermic reaction.”
“I know what thermite is. How can you tell that's what caused the fire?” God, he acted like she was so stupid sometimes. She had played with it in college, upping the recipe that she had seen demonstrated in chemistry class up the point where it melted a hole in the concrete deck where she had b
een living at the time. The landlord had been pissed, but she had talked him out of calling the cops.
Leo said, “From the color of the flame and the sparks. I think it's from an iron oxide based version. Quite effective, but it's a bitch to light. I finally had to switch mixtures to get reliable ignition, duplicating the recipe used in military thermite, with my own ignition system.”
“You played with thermite?”
“Heck yes. A couple of hundred bucks spent on eBay can yield wonderful and interesting experiments. It also has some wonderful properties, like being able to melt tooth enamel, making identification of a body that much more difficult.”
“And you've used it for this?”
Pause. “Yes. The man who was sent to either recruit or kill me had such a treatment done to him.”
She noted that he said this flatly, like he was describing going out the grocery store for a gallon of milk. Leo sounded like a geek, concealed the body of a god under loose clothing and was a stone cold killer. It made her wonder about what really drove him. Though she still wouldn't want to get in the way of anything that he wanted.
A fire engine screamed past them going towards the fire.
Leo said, “I hope they don't try and put water on that fire, otherwise they will be in a world of hurt. It could cause an explosion when the oxygen and hydrogen ...”
“Are liberated explosively,” she interrupted. “I've played with it before and am familiar with how it works.”
“Then you might be interested to know that there is about eight pounds of the stuff secreted in various places in this vehicle.”
“What?”
Leo stopped at a red light. Another fire engine roared past them, its sirens screaming in the morning air.
“All I ever wanted was to be left alone. I'd done what I'd been paid to do and hoped that they'd forgotten about me. But I knew that someday they would come looking for me and it would come down to my being able to convince them that it was probably a better idea to leave me alone.”
Kill Code Page 11