Kill Devil

by Mike Dellosso

• • •

  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.

  “Yeah. I got him.”

  “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.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  • • •

  Tiffany had to do something. She couldn’t wait for her next move to be dictated by some outside force. She looked down the road and saw a white pickup moving slowly toward her. Or maybe not her; maybe it was just entering the campground. Maybe the driver was totally oblivious to what was occurring and was simply returning to his RV with some take-out breakfast.

  • • •

  Jed watched Connelly like a cat watching a mouse hole. As soon as the man was motioned to stand, he’d have to pull the trigger. He positioned the scope so he could see Connelly in the left field of vision and had the space between the chair and the shield in the center. He knew Connelly was six feet, two inches and put the crosshairs in the appropriate location.

  He waited. His pulse clicked away in his neck, in his ears, in his fingertip. Time seemed to move by as slowly as ice melts. The trigger felt hot under the pad of his finger.

  Then . . . Connelly leaned forward in his chair.

  • • •

  Ignoring the truck, Tiffany made her move. She stepped forward and knocked on the RV’s door.

  • • •

  Jed jerked and lost sight of Connelly. Quickly he found the vice president again in his scope, but it was too late. Connelly had already stepped up onto the platform and was shaking hands and smiling broadly at the ranger.

  Jed looked at Karen, who only stared wide-eyed back at him. Someone had knocked on the camper’s door. That wasn’t supposed to happen. That wasn’t part of the plan. Murphy told him they wouldn’t have anyone stationed at the campground because they didn’t want even the risk of raising suspicion. And he told him the campers on either side of Jed’s were planted there by the agency as buffers. No immediate neighbors.

  Murphy’s voice came through the earpiece. “What happened, Patrick? You had the shot.”

  Jed ignored Murphy.

  Karen stood frozen. Jed didn’t move either. If it was a neighbor from another part of the campground, he or she would eventually go away if no one answered the knock. A minute ticked by, then another. No follow-up knock came.

  • • •

  If Patrick was inside the RV, Tiffany didn’t expect him to answer the door and offer to share a cup of coffee. He wouldn’t ask her if she wanted to watch the show that was about to unfold. But she wasn’t just going to walk away. She had to know if this was the location. She’d learned a long time ago how to pick a simple lock, and the lock on the RV door was about as simple as they came.

  Tiffany reached into her pocket and retrieved a bobby pin.

  • • •

  Karen leaned toward Jed and lowered her voice. Her face was taut, her eyes intense. “If you don’t take that shot, we don’t know what Mr. Murphy will do to Lilly.”

  And Murphy was in Jed’s ear again. “Patrick, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

  Jed ignored them both. He knew the danger of not taking the shot. He went back to the rifle and the scope. “I got this,” he said to both Karen and Murphy.

  Connelly delivered his speech. He used lots of gestures and facial expressions. He was a man who was apparently very comfortable being the center of attention.

  Jed watched carefully. When Connelly finished, he wouldn’t waste any time getting back to his seat. And Jed only had this last attempt. If he failed this one . . . He pushed the consequences from his mind. He needed to focus on the task, the shot.

  Connelly said something and flashed a winning smile. The crowd applauded.

  “Focus, Jedidiah,” Karen said. “Make this count.”

  Jed barely heard her voice. His attention was on Connelly, studying the man’s every move, hand gesture, weight shift, facial expression.

  Suddenly the door of the camper opened.

  • • •

  Tiffany didn’t wait to see if anyone was inside the RV. She didn’t wait to see if the occupants would be friendly and invite her in. As the door opened, she climbed the three metal stairs and entered the camper.

  • • •

  Jed released his grip on the rifle and reached for the handgun that rested on the table beside him. He whipped it around and pointed it directly at the door. A woman stood there, fully in the camper. She, too, had a weapon, a Glock 9, and aimed it at him. Karen took two steps back and shifted her eyes between Jed and the woman. Her jaw was slack and eyes wide. The woman had taken them both by surprise.

  • • •

  Tiffany widened her stance and gripped the gun with both hands. She didn’t want to shoot Patrick and had no intention of doing so. She only hoped he’d comply willingly or that she’d at least be able to reason with him.

  Patrick glanced at the far corner of the camper and said, “Karen, get back over by the counter.”

  He then focused his attention on Tiffany. Blood surged through her carotids and pulsed in her ears. Her hands shook; her mouth went as dry as dirt. She decided introductions would be appropriate.

  She’d have to speak fast. “I’m Tiffany Stockton. I work for the CIA. You’re Sergeant Jed Patrick, and you intend to assassinate the vice president.” She paused to swallow and moisten her mouth and throat. “I’m here to stop you.”

  • • •

  Jed didn’t want to shoot this woman. This Tiffany Stockton of the CIA. But he didn’t have time to waste with her either.

  Through the earpiece, Murphy said, “Who’s there, Patrick? Who is that?”

  Jed ripped the piece from his ear and tossed it to the floor. He could hear Murphy’s voice in the tiny speaker, but it was tinny and indecipherable.

  “How did you get here?” he asked Tiffany.

  “I found the files on the Centralia Project. I know everything. Well, not everything, but most of it. I know what they did to you. I know about the implant.”

  “Jedidiah.” Karen stepped away from the counter. “She’s with Connelly. Don’t listen to her. She won’t shoot you. Make the shot.”

  Jed knew Tiffany wouldn’t shoot. He’d known it the first time their eyes met when he swung around and found her staring at him with her Glock pointed at him. She didn’t have it in her. It wasn’t who she was.

  • • •

  Slowly Patrick put down his handgun, turned to his rifle, and took a grip on it.

  “Patrick, don’t do it,” Tiffany said. She stepped closer to him.

  Patrick glanced at the corner of the camper again. “Karen, please, honey, step back.”

  Karen—Patrick’s wife. Tiffany remembered the name from Jed Patrick’s bio. But when she looked into the corner, it was empty. Patrick talked like she was in the room, but there was no Karen in this camper. It was just Patrick and Tiffany. It took Tiffany only a few seconds to figure out what was happening. The documents had mentioned the plan to surgically implant a device. It must be causing Patrick to hallucinate his wife’s presence.

  “Patrick, Karen isn’t here. What you see is a hallucination. It’s caused by the implant.”

  • • •

  Jed sat at the table, both hands on his Win Mag, but he glanced between Tiffany and Karen. Hallucinat
ion? Implant?

  “They removed the implant.”

  “No, they inserted it. In your brain. Did they do any surgery recently?”

  Jed pulled one hand away from the rifle and touched the incision along the side of his head. It was still tender.

  “The implant is causing you to hallucinate Karen. She’s not here.”

  From across the camper, Karen turned both palms up. “Jedidiah, that’s nonsense. She’s lying. I’m right here, honey. You can see me. You felt me. You hear my voice. I’m as real as you are.”

  But was she real? He didn’t even know anymore. His mind ran through all the things he’d seen and felt that hadn’t actually been there after all. For days, he hadn’t been able to trust his own eyes and ears. Maybe he was hallucinating this entire scenario. Maybe he was unconscious on a gurney in some lab and this whole thing was just another training tool. A simulated assassination.

  Tiffany lowered the Glock but still held it with both hands. “Please, Patrick. Jed. Listen to me. Believe me. They’re using you. You have skills they need, and they’re getting all they can from you.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Jedidiah,” Karen said. “She’s lying. She’s from Connelly. They found our location and sent her to persuade you with this lie because they know they can’t take you by force. You have to take the shot. You see now how evil Connelly is, how manipulative he can be. How controlling. Take the shot.”

  Jed turned back to his weapon. “I’m taking the shot.”

  Tiffany moved closer to him, but Jed ignored her. He peered through the scope and found Connelly again. He was still speaking, gesturing, walking side to side on the platform. Jed put the crosshairs on the man’s chest but of course didn’t have the shot yet.

  “Jed.” Tiffany again. “Please, search your heart. You must know that’s not the real Karen. You have to. You may want it to be because you love her and you’re worried about her. But you know it’s not.”

  Karen laughed. “It’s nonsense, Jedidiah. Lies. Take the shot and end all this.”

  “You’re lying,” Jed said to Tiffany, but the words felt forced, wooden.