Getting the Cold Shot

Previous Chapter: It's Hard To Be Me

Our destination is quite rural, which is, of course, necessary to get my practice in without getting unwanted attention. That also means we’ll attract attention if we look out of place. Tessa had the forethought to arrange for us to stay at a nearby Bed and Breakfast. We’ll be a couple on a honeymoon. While she drives, we talk about non-work related topics. As I am, she’s a fan of movies and TV shows, so we compare and contrast our favorites. I get some leads for ones that might appeal to me and I suggest a few for her. It turns out she’s also a fan of science fiction and fantasy books, so we compare favored authors and stories as well. She’s easy to talk with, and from time to time I have cause to regret my self-imposed requirement of celibacy when on a job.

She’s professionally affectionate when we get to the B&B; we act like we’re really into each other. I want to scout the area before the sun goes down, in case there are any issues. After we drop our stuff off in the room, we ask about local places to walk, and steer the conversation such that we’re directed toward the old quarry. We get a small picnic basket and a bottle of wine and leisurely stroll, hand in hand, off in that direction. Once out of sight, we set the basket down behind some bushes and pick up the pace to a very brisk walk.

The quarry would normally be a good forty-five minute stroll, but we get there in less than twenty. I pull out some small binoculars and survey the surroundings. I see where I can set up and there doesn't appear to be any issues with nosy neighbors. There’s some water in the quarry, I don't know of very many that are dry once abandoned. It isn't that deep, and it appears devoid of life, so little chance we’ll be bothered by any fishermen. I do a quick circuit down inside the quarry and Tessa follows a path that circles the top. Satisfied that we’re unlikely to be bothered, we head back to the basket. It would attract attention to bring it back unused, so we find a nice spot to partake of the edibles, but leave off the wine. I rarely drink even when off the job; I would never drink when on. It seems Tessa follows the same strategy.

As the day winds down, we stroll back to the B&B, hand in hand. We leave the emptied bottle and basket with the kitchen. The smells emanating there are quite attractive, so we begin to look forward to dinner. There’s time for a short nap. We head to our bedroom to lie down. Checking the various tells we left about the room, we feel fairly sure nothing was disturbed. I’m down and out in seconds. My internal alarm clock wakes me in time for dinner. Tessa awakes with a quiet word.

Dinner is quite good. Tessa and I continue with our role of honeymooners by sitting very close to one another, constantly touching, staring into each other’s eyes. My mind is mostly on preparing for the evening's activities, so I don't get the normal rise as if this were real. However, I do notice a curious thing: Tessa also seems to avoid makeup. I’ve never been a fan of it, preferring au naturale; it’s interesting they share that aspect. There’s a chemical that will bind to alcohol and keep it from being absorbed by the body, which allows us to drink the wine offered with dinner (it would appear out of place if we refused it). It doesn't taste very good, though, and it seems rather rude to adulterate quality spirits with it.

There are a handful of other guests, all couples and all focused on each other, just like we are. Several are clearly not honeymooners, unless they got married really late in life, but they do seem in love. Sometimes I get a little wistful when I see couples that have clearly been married for a long time and are still in love. My parents are like that. Sometimes I want to tell them to “get a room.” I’ve mostly stuck with one-night-stands to this point (Isabel being exceptional, once again, in that regard). It’s so much easier to minimize risk when there’s no emotional attachment.

Since we don't want to attract attention, we won't be going out until quite late. Then again, that’s when I’m expecting to take out the target, so it’s just as well. However, we want to get some sleep, so we need to go to bed early. To cover that, Tessa and I make googoo eyes at each other and start quietly giggling and being very touchy and feely. When we get back, once again we check out our tells, then lie down for a couple of hours. 

This time it’s Tessa who makes the first move; I wake when I feel her stir. It’s about one-thirty in the morning. By the time we get set up it’ll be just about the right hour. We quietly go out the second floor window, head to the car and pick up the needed stuff. Since we’re now familiar with the route to the quarry, we’re able to make good time even though we’re encumbered with all my equipment. I start setting up my rifle in my chosen location. Tessa heads to the quarry and sets up the target. She puts a small light on it, at the level I expect for the real deal. After that, she does a circuit around the rim of the quarry to make sure it’s still clear, then comes back to join me. I’ve set up the spotter scope. She’s a trained professional, so knows exactly what it’s for. I take the temperature and humidity and measure the wind, using that to calculate where I expect the round to be, with the given the distance and angle. I have my sound/flash suppressing setup hooked up and take the first shot. Tessa tells me it’s low and to the left by about two inches. I adjust the scope to put the crosshairs exactly on the hole. A second shot and it goes through the center of the target. 

Now for the tedious part. I partially break down the weapon so it can cool off quicker. While we wait, Tessa tells a story from her past.

“Very early in my career, not too long after I got out of the Academy, I was involved in a job where the goal was to penetrate and take out the target’s security. However, it had to be without anyone getting killed or seriously injured. Though I’d been forming a reputation already, it wasn’t well established and I wasn’t invited to take part beyond the planning stage. 

“I believe you’ve met Eric, right?” I nod. “He, Jeff and Isabel often work together, though at that point they had yet to join the Agency. Anyway, Eric was the lead for this project and, though he’d been a combat instructor at the Academy, by coincidence we hadn’t worked together. He wasn’t taking me seriously when I started my campaign to get directly involved in the action.

“The target’s place was a three story house somewhat isolated from its neighbors. This made it unusual, as it was located in the heart of the city. What that meant was any breach had to be from the well defended ground level or some sort of crazy air drop onto the roof. Because there was always at least one guard on the roof – houses in that area all have flat roofs – even getting in from the roof was far from trivial.

“Eric felt a team was needed,” she continued, “yet didn’t see how that much movement could be concealed long enough to surprise the guard. I kept insisting that it was a one person job, though Eric steadfastly ignored me. I caught up with him during a break and told him what I had in mind. He thought I was nuts, so I suggested a test.”

I lean back to get more comfortable, clearly this’ll be a long story.

“Since the initial goal was to clear the guard on the roof without him having a chance to give an alarm, I talked Eric into testing under similar circumstances. We could also test the deployment mechanism at the same time. It was a couple of days to set it up, then Eric handpicked the guy who would act as the guard stand-in. I knew that guy, had sparred with him regularly, and was confident I could take him out.

“We didn’t need to emulate a three story house for this test, just darkness and the deployment mechanism. We did it in an old warehouse we could get good and dark. To make the test fairer, the guard stand-in didn’t know where I would be coming from, though he certainly knew it was going to be from the air and within a few hour window. Passing this test would mean the real thing will be easier.

“As the delivery mechanism levered me into place, I dropped right behind him. As catlike as I could, I tried to make no noise as I impacted the ‘roof.’ Since I came in from his rear, he didn’t see me, but to show what I had in mind, I deliberately scraped my foot across the ‘roof.’ As his head snapped around at the sound, I gave it just enough extra torque that he passed out cold. I gently lowered him to the deck, disarmed him and quickly secured him with wire ties.”

I nod; just the sort of thing I’d do.

“Since they were observing with infrared, they knew immediately I was successful. There was some half-hearted clapping as they brought the lights up. I couldn’t read Eric’s face, but he gave me a curt nod, which I took to mean he accepted my plan.

“It was close to a week before the conditions were ready. We wanted a cloudy, dark, moonless night for the operation. We’d commandeered the neighboring house and were quietly installing the air drop mechanism. Finally, all was ready; the anticipation was killing me.”

In the darkness, I can just make out her smile.

“Our air drop mechanism was deceptively simple: a long arm that could swing from the house we’d commandeered and reach over to the target’s roof. Painted black, of course, and well-oiled so it operated in total silence. I dressed Ninja-like, all in black, and felt I looked so cool I wanted to get some pictures, but never had time. After I was set up and ready, Eric came to give me some final instructions. He reiterated that I was to wait after I took out the guard on the roof and let the rest of the team get over before I started down the building.

“After all the preparation, it was completely anticlimactic. I swung over, landed behind the guard, made the small noise and knocked him out exactly as I had during the test. The arm hadn’t even finished swinging back to the neighboring house yet. I was really hyped on adrenaline, though, and don’t think I consciously ignored Eric’s instructions, I just started into the building.

“After I’d cleared the top floor, I came to my senses, at least a little, and was going to wait for the rest of the team before I headed down. No sooner had I made that decision, when a guard came up to the third floor. Either we had bad timing or bad luck, because this guard decided he was going on walkabout. Perhaps he had some sixth sense telling him something was wrong; we started the assault right after their usual sitrep, so should have had at least fifteen minutes. Possibly it was as simple as he wanted a smoke and planned to do it on the roof. I hid in the shadows of a hall as he walked by, then leaned out to give him a knockout blow.”

She’s funny. She leans toward me as she tells the story, her arm cocked back.

“Either I gave up some sort of tell or this guy really did have extra senses, he dodged and missed the power of my blow. I was overcome by a wave of depression. All this guy had to do was key up his radio and say something and the whole house would explode with armed guards on high alert and I would be a total failure for having gone in without the rest of the team.

“Fortunately, either because he was overconfident or I’d dazed him, he didn’t do that. Instead he went on the attack. One of the reasons I prefer to do my work with my hands empty is so I don’t get confused on what sort of attack to use. I could tell from his brief hesitation he wasn’t sure if the best course of action was to go hand-to-hand or use his gun, and in that split second I was able to use his momentum toward me to hit him in his throat. I caught him as he slumped, easing him to the ground, then relieved him of his gun and radio and secured him.”

She makes grabbing motions with her arms and leans forward as if placing someone on the ground.

“At this point, I changed my mind again, and figured the best course of action was to go back on the offensive. Even though Eric was clear he wanted me to wait, at that point I felt it was less risky for me to finish the job. As a side benefit, I thought it would really prove to everyone what I was capable of. I went through the rest of the building in a silent whirlwind, then headed back to the top floor where the target was sleeping.

“Eric’s face was not happy, but I believed I could see a glint of respect in his eyes. We were there to intimidate the target, so the whole team burst in on him at once. Eric was first at his bedside and wrestled the gun from his hands. Eric made some pointed comments, then knocked him out as well. Then we all left, through the front door, with the lights on.”

After a suitable cooling period, I reassemble my rifle, lay it on the ground, then stand up. This is the part I want to practice. Though it looks foolish, I haven't found a better way to prepare. I spin around several times with my eyes closed, quickly drop down to the ground and put the rifle in my shoulder. I open my eyes, and, in less than a second, acquire the target and take the shot. I’m off about an inch. Though that should be more than accurate enough to finish the job, I want to do better. Since it’s important that each shot be cold (since that’s how I’ll be taking the actual shot), once again I partially dismantle the rifle and wait for it to cool. This tedious process takes about fifteen minutes per shot, so it’s a couple of hours before I’m satisfied.

It’s an hour or so before dawn, time to wrap things up. I put my gear away while Tessa goes to clean up the target site. There isn't too much to do about the fired rounds, but she does scuff the impact sites, so it would take a close examination to reveal what happened. We head back to the B&B, put the stuff in the car, climb back into the window and lay down for another hour or two of sleep. 

We awake to interesting smells coming from the kitchen, then shower before we pack up for the return trip. Tessa isn't shy about showing her body. When I first looked at her, my initial thought was “skinny.” She almost entirely lacks Isabel’s curves and is a small “B,” whereas Isabel is, as mentioned, awesomely curved and a medium “C.” However, she’s quite muscular, though with enough padding she doesn't look like a bodybuilder. She lacks much in the way of a waist because she has very well developed back, abdominal and side muscles. Now that I force myself to wipe away my “Isabel filters,” Tessa isn’t skinny at all. Muscular thighs and arms, she’s just compact, with nothing “wasted.” Her body evokes memories of Steffi Graf in a bikini in Sports Illustrated or something, years ago. She has a partial Brazilian, the version with the “landing strip,” revealing that either she’s very thorough or she really is a natural blonde. She’s quite pleasing to my eye; I tell her so by coming to attention as I observe. She smiles; hopefully she likes what she sees. We continue being honeymooners during breakfast and make all sorts of inquiries regarding places to visit toward the North and West as some misdirection. We check out around ten and head back to Monaco. Our time in the car gives us more opportunities to get to know one another. This is the most time I’ve spent just chatting with someone in a very long time. When Isabel and I spent that time together before, we did chat quite a lot, but we were doing all the things Tessa and I acted like we were doing. We probably spoke less than Tessa and I have in the last twenty-four hours.