Chapter 25 -- KUOGCZVHCOYWHKS
Carter watched the figure behind the podium, near the front of the outdoor
stage at the Gateway Amphitheater. It was well over a quarter of a mile, and
he needed the powerful binoculars to determine that it was a woman, and not
much else. The event he was waiting for was still days ago, and he was
setting up a viewing spot.
The affair in progress was a political event, as would be the one he was
preparing for. The most of the seats were filled, and a row of several chairs
sat to the left side, from his position, of the podium. Apparently the woman
was some sort of staff as she spent just a few minutes there, inspecting
the setup and then leaving.
There were several microphones, with labels identifying them with
local news outlets, mostly television stations. The event was being held for
the incumbent representative for the district, and the results of the election
was, like most congressional seats, not much in doubt. Of course, even if it
was a sure thing, the campaign provided an inflow of money for the party and
its allies. The senatorial candidate did have some competition, and
his event would be much larger.
Carter watched as the seats on the state were filled, no doubt by important
local party members. Soon the speaker would arrive. If the usual form was
followed, one or two of the seated persons would take a turn at the microphone
introducing the speaker, and then the candidate would arrive.
She would be recognizable - only in Congress for a couple of terms, she was an
attack dog for her party. Not very intelligent, but as a tool for the
party power brokers, her every word and action was scripted. All she had to
do was show up and read the speech. Carter was reminded of a conversation with James when he had
first arrived. Like so many people, James had spent his life attending to his
work and as much of a personal life as he had time for, and had never had time
for politics.
One day while watching the news, one of the more obnoxious members of the
party of the enemy, an old woman who was also extremely ugly, was delivering
one of the usual tirades.
"How does someone like that get elected?" James wondered aloud.
"One of the flaws in the system," Carter had said. "Senators are elected by
the entire electorate of a state, which is why we were ablte to hold our own for
as long as we did. But representatives are elected by districts. You know
how some, probably most, of the big cities have places where no sane person
wants to live, or even visit.
"Well, some of those bad parts of town have enough population to be a complete
congressional district, or a majority of one. Those cesspools have their own
representatives. That's how they get there. And of course, most of the people
there don't even bother to vote - it's done for them."
He picked up the rifle and used the scope to continue watching. One of those
in the chairs went to the podium and made a brief speech before yielding to a
second one, who made a longer speech ending with the introduction of the
featured speaker. As each one walked to the podium he followed with the scope,
calculating the right firing time.
As he watched, the woman selected by the party for this position emerged from
backstage, moving to the podium with an arrogant strut. Carter supposed she
might actually think she had something to do with her being in that position.
From what he had seen of her he was surprised she would find her way across
the stage unaided. She wasn't any more enjoyable to look at than the old hag
from California, he thought. Only much younger.
Carter had gotten a fix on the path his target would take, crossing the stage
at an angle, exposed for several seconds before being mostly hidden behind the
podium. He had tested the shot numerous times with all the right parameters,
including the elevation of his position at a couple of the ranges he had access to.
Attorney General Erskine McCormick looked out the window of his hotel at the
Gateway Arch. The gateway to the west in other times, he thought, would now
be his gateway to the nation's capitol. In a few short years he had parlayed
a prosecutor position into a shot at being elected attorney general, and the
state's trend to electing more liberal officials had won him the office. Now
he was ready for the big time, the U.S. Senate.
He had no doubts about his ability to win - he was the party favorite and his
party was guaranteed to win. And he was still relatively young, not yet fifty.
He could easily spend another twenty or so years living the good life of a
powerful insider, or he might just as well accumulate enough wealth to retire
comfortably in much less than that. He was already doing pretty well, he
reflected, and from here it would only get easier.
"Mr. McCormick." It was his assistant, John Holmes. Holmes was looking
forward to the upcoming move, as he McCormick had promised he would be going
along as part of his staff.
"John." McCormick turned to the young man.
"Our guests are here," John said. "They're down at the bar, I told them you'll
be down shortly."
"Thanks John," McCormick said. "I'm ready."
John bent over to pick up something from the floor.
"Wonder what this is," he said, holding it out for McCormick to see.
"Beats me," McCormick replied, looking down at it. "Looks like some kind of military medal,
something. Looks German, that cross. I don't know that the circle is."
"Should I check it out?" Holmes asked.
"Yeah, see if you can find anything on it. Let's go."
They went down to the ground floor bar to join their guests. They were dining
in the hotel restaurant. The guests, a pair of lobbyists
and their wives, were there to get their hooks into the new senator early.
McCormick wasn't much interested in what they wanted - if it wasn't likely to
endanger his career, or conflicted with a more important patron, they would
get it. And he would prosper.
After the meal, the final drinks downed, they adjourned - the lobbyists to
their limousines while McCormick and his aide retired to their rooms.
McCormick, normally not much of a drinker, quickly fell asleep. Holmes, in
his room, took the time to research the medal he had found in his boss's room.
It didn't take long - he quickly found the exact item. It was an army
marksmanship badge the highest of three levels - expert.
It could be nothing, he thought. There had been no threats against McCormick
during the campaign, or at any time in the past as far as he knew. Had it
been anything not connected with weapons he would have quickly dismissed. Now
he was uncertain. He had only worked for McCormick for a little over three
years, and before he was Attorney General he had been a prosecutor in St. Louis.
That was a disquieting thought, but he wasn't sure how to approach his boss.
He decided to ask him in the morning.
Carter was finished in St. Louis for the time being. Three days from now his
target would be in the amphitheater, winding up his campaign. The election
was days away. He drove over do Columbia, where Jessica met him. His
equipment was ready to go, and there was nothing more do do until it was time
to return to St. Louis. After Jessica had gone to sleep, he lay awake for a
while, the old memories he had brought back when deciding on and then planning
for the mission.
He remembered McCormick in the courtroom, his mercenary nature clear even
then. As was his contempt not only for Carter but for cops in general. And
anyone else beneath his station. It was clear those people feared him. The
witnesses were either willing accomplices for the prosecution, including some
of the cops, or reluctant but afraid. Not that it mattered. The judge
did her best to give the prosecution the upper hand and hobble the defense.
Carter sometimes wondered if he should do away with her as well - he was aware
of her record and it wasn't pretty. She was probably dead or retired by now,
he suspected, being quite a bit older than him even then.
It's not about personal revenge, he reminded himself. He wouldn't be going
after McCormick if he hadn't risen to the position of becoming a senator. Not
that Carter wouldn't have minded standing eye to eye with him before squeezing
the trigger. But what difference did it make? He'd be dead seconds later and
knowing why he was dying wouldn't matter.
No, this was much bigger. McCormick was on his way to becoming another tool
in the regime that was coalescing before their eyes. He was
already going down, he was just going early. And in any case, he wasn't even
going to die. Or at least that wasn't the plan. Carter could put the bullet
exactly where he wanted it, and it wasn't to be a lethal shot.
And so he and Jessica had headed back to St. Louis, lost in the early morning
traffic and getting set up before noon. Carter watched the target site,
checking the weather at regular intervals. The shoot would be after dark, and
with equipment better than most military snipers it would be no problem. A
quarter of a mile was nothing to some of those guys.
The rifle and the precisely handloaded cartridges so thoroughly tested were
ready, Jessica was monitoring the getaway setup and would until he arrived
after the deed was done.
John Holmes called his boss.
"Yes John."
"Do you have a few private minutes?"
"Sure, come on over."
Holmes went over the McCormick's room, closed the door and laid the medal on
the desk.
"That's an army marksman's medal," he said. "I have no idea if it means
anything. But if it's a message, it's a clear one. I know we haven't had any
trouble, or even threats, but.."
"Yeah, we can't be too careful," said McCormick. "It could be nothing, if it
was a message it would have been more visible. Or some crackpot, or a prank.
We haven't had any troublemakers around the campaign."
"Is there anyone from the past? You were a prosecutor, must have put a few
people in prison. Any of them stand out as potential threats?"
"There's always that. I hope the really bad ones are still put away. But I
don't actually even remember any of them threatening me. If there is someone
after me, I won't be in town after tonight. Good luck following me around."
The sun was behind the target site now. Carter set up the rifle and began to
survey the site. The audience was beginning to arrive, and occasionally there
was some activity on the stage. There were a few more microphones and cameras
now, the senate race would attract some national news.
Soon the state was populated, except for the candidate. Carter practiced
aiming at each speaker approaching the podium. And then it was time.
"And now," said the young woman who looked like a college student, and probably was,
"the next senator from the state of Missouri."
Now, Carter thought. He tracked the man as he emerged from the curtains,
almost in a side profile, one, two, three steps. Four. He squeezed the
trigger, barely felt the slight resistance. The .300 Winchester Magnum round
shoving the rifle back hard into his shoulder didn't cause him to lose sight
of the target. He had been well prepared. In the green light he saw the
target buckle at the waist and drop to the stage.
Quickly but with deliberate care he put the rifle in the case and latched it.
The bipod and other accessories were stowed and he was headed down the stairs.
He quickly descended the eight flights without a misstep. Jessica stood by
the Dodge minivan, the back hatch open. The compartment under the floor was
open, his gear quickly stowed, and the door closed. Several boxes containing
innocuous items were pushed back over the cover, and the back seat was raised
to the normal position. Jessica got in and started it, driving away alone.
Carter would follow in the Trailblazer, closing in behind her once they were
in traffic.
The sniper's nest might eventually be found, based on assumptions about the
angle of the bullet's path. Or it might not. The building was completely
unoccupied and secured, pending a decision on its future. It was likely do be
demolished, but whatever happened wouldn't affect him. A high fence had been
built around it, with signs warning away trespassers. As Carter drove through
an open gate, a man stepped out of the shadows and gave him a thumbs-up sign.
In the mirror Carter saw him closing the gate. By the time anyone showed up
to check it, he would be long gone and the concrete driveway would tell no
tales.
The site was something over a quarter of a mile and it would be quite a while
before anyone looked this far out, if they did so at all. Carter pushed the
call button on a small radio and waited.
"Here," Jessica said.
"Just egressed," said Carter.
"OK, I'm just about to hit the freeway."
"Gotcha. Should see you in a few."
Once Jessica was on the freeway she would stay just under the speed limit.
All the traffic would be going by her, and at just slightly over Carter would
catch her quickly. He set the cruise control and relaxed as the traffic
passed by, relaxing now. The operation was over, and there were no traces.
Before long he spotted Jessica's taillights and turned on his emergency
flashers for several cycles. She responded and they both adjusted their speed
to maintain a constant interval. A couple of hours later they were back at
the hotel.
Ensuring the vehicles were locked, they went up to their room. Not trusting
to locks alone, the vehicles had alarms to alert them to tampering. Not that
anyone was likely to burglarize or steal what looked like an old and not
especially desirable vehicle, which was part of the plan.
They hadn't eaten since breakfast, so they decided to eat in the hotel
restaurant before it closed for the night. They just made it, and it was late
when they got back to their room. They resisted the urge to watch television
until they had had a shower, brushed their teeth and put on fresh pajamas.
One of the things they had learned early on that both of them were what some
might call obsessively clean, particularly in their personal habits.
Much refreshed, they sat down on a couch to watch television. Of course, the
news was all about the shooting. The news people were visibly excited, their
calculated clinical delivery occasionally slipping. All the news channels had
the same thing - attempted assassination of senate candidate, citywide manhunt,
and plenty of guest experts to analyze.
It quickly became dull. Facts were in short supply and simple. The senate
candidate had just walked onto the stage when a shot rang out, McCormick
crumpled to the floor, and the usual cliches. Carter and Jessica forebore to
comment, even though there was no way for them to be under suspicion it was
entirely possible the room could be bugged for any number of reasons, and they
didn't need to turn up on a recording someday.
It didn't take long for them to get around to the anti-government angle, with
white supremacist thrown in for good measure. Any number of attention-seeking
politicians, academics, and police sources were willing to pontificate, and
were still doing so when Jessica and Carter opted for sleep.
The next morning they left with the morning traffic, a short drive of about
two hours, and were home in time for lunch. Donald, James, and Tommy were
aware of the general situation from the news, so they waited until after lunch
to discuss it. They drove out to one of the small houses, bringing Jessica's
minivan so the gear could be removed and stored.
"We probably should have our sensitive meetings in places like this," Donald
told them. "The house is safe enough, but we can't be too careful, especially
as the war begins. And you might say it has. Even though we aren't crossing
swords in the streets yet, we need to stay as hidden as we can for as long as
we can.
"So, with that said, how did it go?"
Jessica looked over at Carter.
"I'd say flawlessly, but then it was a complete surprise. There was no
serious security. In the future there will be. If they figure out I was over
four hundred yards away, and it's likely they will even if they don't know
where it came from, there won't be any similar opportunities. We may have to
work up close."
"And of course," said Jessica, "getaways won't be as easy either. That's where
we'll have to have more operatives, to breach security, prevent operatives
from being captured, messy stuff."
"We anticipate that," Donald said . "And our plans for further operations will
have to be made on case by case basis. The council will be meeting again
after the election. and assuming it goes the way we expect we may be
doing wet work in the near future."
"In other words," said Jessica, "this was easy compared to what we're looking at
in the future."
"We haven't had any news except the usual top-of-the-hour bits," Carter said.
"What's the status of the subject?"
"He's still in critical condition," Donald replied. "Apparently the bullet went
in right at waist level, out the other side at an angle that put it several
inches lower when it exited the other leg. I would guess what it did on the
way through wasn't pleasant. Assuming he had any manhood to begin with. In
any case, he'll apparently recover, maybe even be able to walk."
Darrell grinned. In his past life the idea of shooting at another human being
was something he hoped would never happen, even though the possibility was a
part of his job. What he had done the night before hadn't bothered him at all,
and the idea of the possible injury amused him. He had occasionally thought,
while preparing, that a shot at the base of the spine would be good, giving a
good chance at permanent paralysis. Of course, it might also kill him.
"You might find this interesting, Darrell," said Donald. "Late last night
there were some interviews with people close to McCormick. Apparently
something found in his hotel room night before last is suspected of being a
warning."
"So they found it," said Carter.
"Apparently."
"I gave him more chances than he gave me. I shot him through the hip. He'll
remember it every day for the rest of his life, but he's alive. If I had a
chance to, I'd have liked to look him in the eye just before I shot him, but
what good would that do. It's better this way - he'll be punished for the
rest of his life. As for the marksman's medal - I knew it wouldn't do any
good for them to find it, but now he has to know it was revenge. And he'll
never know who, and will never be able to stop wanting to know."
"How did you get it into his room?" asked Donald.
"Paid a housekeeper. No way to be sure she'd do it, any more than that it
would be found. Just a little extra."
"Well, we'll keep an eye on the news, as always." said Donald. "Once the
council meets, we'll have a better idea of how things may be going."