clear: the assassination had to take place this morning, and no other.
Which was fine by him.
Werner Rauschenbach prided himself on his ability to pull off difficult sanctions, and considered himself to be the best. He’d made a small fortune from his career as a high-priced assassin specializing in political and mob-related executions. The former Soviet republics were rife with gangs battling for supremacy, and every few months he got a call seeking his assistance in the elimination of a rival or a non-compliant politician. He had started off at fifty grand a hit a decade earlier, and had worked his way up now to where an ordinary contract drew between two hundred and fifty and five hundred thousand euros; a higher-visibility target, like the one today, could run as high as a million.
At least it wasn’t raining hard, or worse yet, snowing. That could complicate matters for his getaway. Ready for the action to begin, he slid back the rifle bolt and chambered a round – likely the only shot he would need to fire.
He shifted on the roof tiles and took another look through the scope. Everything was perfect; now he just needed the guest of honor to show up, and he could finish and get out of there.
His breathing accelerated when he saw the Mercedes swing around the corner and move to the front of the building. He knew the car well – one of his hallmarks was research and planning. Executing the target was usually the easy part. Getting away in one piece was a little more problematic. In this case, it was made doubly difficult because of the location: there weren’t a lot of places to hide, and his next best choice had been up on the hill, over seven hundred yards away. Not an impossible distance, by any means, but at two hundred yards he could practically throw a rock and hit the man, so he had erred on the side of caution.
The luxury sedan rolled to a stop near the steps at the front entrance, and the driver got out and walked to the rear door, pausing for a moment before opening it.
Rauschenbach squinted and aligned the crosshairs on the driver’s head, which in the high magnification looked like it was only a few feet away. His finger moved to the trigger, and he waited for his target to appear.
Rejt set his paper down on the seat of the Mercedes and took a last sip of coffee before heaving himself out of the vehicle. On the sidewalk, he handed his driver his empty cup, and for a brief moment, as the sun kissed the garden across the street, the palace standing proudly in the background, he was struck by the beauty of the country – his country, for which he had worked so hard.
The slug tore the top of his head off, instantly terminating brainwave activity, already dead before he hit the ground. The driver ducked and watched his boss crumple in front of him, having barely registered the sound of the shot that ended his life – a sharp crack from near the same gardens Rejt had been admiring.
The driver sprang to the car, putting its bulk between him and the shooter, and fumbled for his cell, dialing the emergency number once his fingers began working again. The shock from the bloody killing only a few feet away caused his hands to tremble almost uncontrollably, and it was all he could do to hold the phone to his ear and demand help from the duty officer who answered.
Several police officers, stationed outside the ministry, jogged to the car from their positions by the front doors, and upon seeing the carnage, drew their pistols and scanned the rooflines for signs of a gunman, but decided to wait for backup before they tried to tackle him – wherever he was.
Rauschenbach was already moving off the roof seconds after he’d seen the minister’s head explode, and was lowering himself to the ground on the far side of the building with a rope, having left the rifle on the roof. He’d used an Accuracy International AWM rifle filched from the German army, which he could easily replace, and preferred to carry nothing from the hit – he built the cost of whatever tools he needed for a job into the budget, ensuring that there was never a trail back to him.
He dropped to the ground and sprinted to a BMW S1000R motorcycle parked adjacent to some scaffolding,