Last Light Read Free Page B

by now. I was well past concerned, and not too far short of worried.
    I thought about Sniper Two. She would have moved cautiously into the fire position after clearing her route, employing the same tradecraft as at the DLB, and probably in a simple disguise. A wig, coat and sunglasses do more than people think, even if SB racked up hundreds of man hours poring over footage from hospital security, traffic and urban CCTV cameras.
    Having first put on her surgical gloves, she would have made entry to her Portakabin with the key provided, closed the door, locked up, and shoved two grey rubber wedges a third of the way down and a third up the frame to prevent anyone entering, even with a key. Then, before moving anywhere, she'd have opened the sports bag and begun to put on her work clothes, a set of light blue, hooded and footed coveralls for paint spraying from B&Q. It was imperative that she didn't contaminate the area or the weapon and equipment that were going to be left behind with fibres of her clothing or other personal sign. Her mouth would now be covered by a protective mask to prevent leaving even a pinprick of saliva on the weapon as she took aim. I was pleased with the masks: they'd been on special offer.
    The coveralls and gloves were also there to protect clothes and skin. If she was apprehended immediately after the shoot, residue from the round that she'd fired would be detectable on her skin and clothes. That's why suspects' hands are bagged in plastic. I was also wearing surgical gloves, but just as a normal precaution. I was determined to leave nothing, and disturb nothing too.
    Once she'd got covered up, with just her eyes exposed, she'd be looking like a forensic scientist at a crime scene. It would then have been time to prepare the fire position. Unlike me, she needed to be away from the window, so she'd have dragged the desk about three metres clear. Then she'd have pinned a net curtain into the plasterboard ceiling, letting it fall in front of the desk before pinning it tight to the legs.
    Next, she'd have pinned up the sheet of opaque black material behind her, letting it hang to the floor. As with the netting, I had cut it to size for each fire position after the CTR. The combination of a net curtain in front and a dark backdrop behind creates the illusion of a room in shadow. It meant that anyone looking through the window wouldn't see a fat rifle muzzle being pointed at them by a scarily dressed woman. Both sets of optics that she'd be using, the binos and the weapon sight, could easily penetrate the netting, so it wouldn't affect her ability to make the shot.
    Some fifteen minutes after arriving, she'd be sitting in the green, nylon-padded swivel chair behind the desk. Her takedown weapon would be assembled and supported on the desk by the bipod attached to the forward stock. Her binos, mounted on a mini-tripod, would also be on the desk, and in front of her would be her plastic lunch-box. With the weapon butt in her shoulder, she would have confirmed the arcs of fire, making sure she could move the weapon on its bipod to cover all of the killing ground without being obstructed by the window-frame or trees. She'd generally sort herself out and tune into her environment, maybe even dry practise on one of the catering staff as they rushed around the terrace.
    One of the most important things she would have done before signing on with me was check her muzzle clearance. A sniper's optic sight is mounted on top of the weapon. At very short ranges the muzzle may be three or four inches below the image the sniper can actually see through the sight. It would be a total fuck-up if she fired a round after getting a good sight picture and it didn't even clear the room, hitting the wall or the bottom of the window-frame instead.
    To deaden the sound of the shot, each weapon was fitted with a suppressor. This had the drawback of making the front third of the barrel nearly twice the size of the rest of it, altering