by Mike Ryan
“You research this yet?”
Myers nodded, somehow looking frustrated and excited at the same time. “I did. It’d be a perfect spot to take them out. It’s in an area that’s got a lot of options for a sniper.”
Stephenson sighed, also looking frustrated now. They weren’t prepared for this so soon. They didn’t anticipate having an opportunity to take out the leaders of the party for another week or so. Stephenson put his hand on his forehead and started rubbing it as he thought of a solution.
“Are we able to tackle this right now? Who do we have nearby? Anyone close enough?”
“We still have the agents in the area who were looking for Porter,” Myers answered. “We can have them ready within the hour.”
“Within the hour,” Stephenson said, looking at his watch. “That would put them there at about ten o’clock. An hour before the rally is scheduled to take place.”
“We can put a few at different spots and take them all out at once.”
Stephenson sighed again, still looking at the flyer as he deliberated the best course of action. Considering how the agents in the area had repeatedly let Porter slip away so far, they weren’t exactly filling him with confidence.
“Can they actually tackle this without screwing it up?” Stephenson asked. “They haven’t exactly had a perfect record lately.”
“Porter is one thing, this is another,” Myers replied, defending the agents’ abilities. “Porter is a highly trained assassin, every bit as good as anybody we put on the ground against her. This isn’t a combat situation. It’s a simple take out. They’re all good enough to complete this mission. It’s a simple blend-in, shoot, and go. They can do it.”
“We can’t afford any slip-ups here.”
“I know.”
“I mean, if we do this, it has to be done right. We take them all out at one time and we disable the entire organization, likely making it crumble in the process. If any of those three survive, they’re going to be on guard from here on out, and it’s going to be hard for us to get close to them again.”
“I know. But we’ve got enough agents there to get the job done.”
“It’s also more agents that can screw the whole thing up,” Stephenson said. “That’s why Porter was given the assignment to begin with. She’s as good as we have at this sort of thing. She can blend into a background and disappear as well as anyone. Three agents means three times the headaches.”
“I still think it’s an opportunity we can’t pass up. If we wait for another agent as good as Porter to get in there, we could be waiting a few more weeks. The Patriotic Party’s last rally of this size was two months ago. They can recruit a lot more people to their way of thinking if we wait two more months. And that could really put us in a hole.”
Stephenson sighed again and put the paper on his desk, still staring at it. This was as indecisive as Myers could ever remember seeing his boss in any situation before.
“What do you wanna do?” Myers asked, hoping to spur on a resolution to the problem.
Stephenson rubbed his face as he agonized over his decision. “Put them in. Put them in play. I want you to draw something up, though. And I want them to check in fifteen minutes before twelve with their positioning as well as their exit strategies.”
“I’m on it.”
“We’ve got to make sure this goes off without a hitch. Even the slightest complication could have devastating consequences.”
15
After getting to the area that the rally was supposed to take place in, Porter walked around for a while, determining her exit strategy, as well as looking for the perfect spot to set up in. Though she was initially planning on setting up shop on the roof of one of the buildings, she eventually decided against it. It was too obvious. As soon as the shootings went down, rooftops would be the first place everyone would look. She needed something a little less obvious, but that would still provide enough elevation for a shot, so she could see over the crowd of people.
There was a six-story office building across the street from the hotel, next to the restaurant and a few other small shops. Porter went into the office building, walking past a receptionist who had her back turned while she was on the phone, and also looking at her computer. Porter walked up to the sixth floor, walking past several offices as she decided which one would be the best to use. It was eleven thirty, and she was going to have to make a decision quickly. If there were no empty offices she could use, she’d have to go to the roof, as much as she’d like to have avoided it.
Porter opened every door on the floor. All of the rooms were occupied except for one. Right in the middle of the floor, there was one door that appeared to be locked. It was made of frosted glass on top and wood on the bottom. She tried to look through the glass, but she couldn’t make out anyone inside. There didn’t appear to be any lights on. Porter put her bag on the floor and took a look around to make sure nobody could see what she was about to do. It was a lightweight door, so breaking it open wouldn’t be much of a problem. She took a few steps back, then thrust herself forward, karate kicking at the edge of the door near the lock, busting it open. After it swung open, Porter grabbed her bag and hurried inside. She quickly closed the door, then looked around, finding a small wooden chair to her left along the wall. She placed it up against the frame of the door to prevent it from opening again.
The office was practically empty, except for a few small pieces of furniture. There were a few chairs, a desk, a filing cabinet, and a few pictures of landscapes hung on the wall. Judging by the dust and dirt everywhere, it looked like it hadn’t been used in some time. Porter went over to the window and looked out, making sure she had a good view of the hotel. The rally was supposed to be held outside the entrance area, by a circular fountain that had a statue in the middle of it, water flowing around the sides of it.
It was a good spot, only a couple hundred yards away. Porter looked at the window and opened it, examining the ledge to see if her rifle could lean on top of it and how far it would stick out. Not really liking the setup, Porter noticed the desk on the side against the wall. She went over to it and pushed it forward until it stopped just underneath the window. She took the rifle out of the bag, knelt down on one knee, then looked through the scope, making sure her sight line was clear.
Porter looked at the time, only having about twenty minutes to go until the rally started. Her plan was to take them out at the first earliest option, figuring if she waited, she might not get the same shot. If the shot was good, and she could take them all out only a few minutes after the event started, she was taking the shot. She had parked her car in the back of the office building, next to a dumpster, only a few feet away from the back door. She looked down at the burgeoning crowd, estimating that there were already close to a thousand people converging on the hotel. Porter was calm as she observed what was going on. The crowd was subdued at this point, though she assumed they would start getting louder once her targets arrived.
Stephenson walked into the situation room, wanting to be in there once all the agents checked in at the fifteen-minute mark as they were supposed to. He immediately sought out Myers to get the latest details.
“What do we have so far?” Stephenson asked, folding his arms, looking at the screens on the wall.
“We’re still waiting on them to check in. Should be any minute now.”
“Are they all on scene?”
“Yeah,” Myers said, pointing to a screen that had the agents’ coordinates on it, red dots to signify their location. “They’ve all been there for at least half an hour. They’ve been scouting out the best locations for them to set up in.”
“What about the rally?”
“As far as we can tell, there are about eight hundred people there at the moment, with still more coming in by the second. We’re estimating that when it’s all said and done, there are gonna be close to two thousand people there.”
“A lot of people converging,” Stephenson said.
As the two men continued to discuss their hopes, as well as their fears, Myers was called over to a nearby analyst’s desk.
“The agents are checking in, sir.”
Myers eagerly went over to the desk as Stephenson remained standing in place, still looking at the screens in front of him. Myers wrote a few things down, then came back to his boss two minutes later. It was exactly fifteen minutes until the rally was supposed to begin.
“OK, they’ve all checked in.”
“Where are they?” Stephenson asked.
Myers looked down at his notes. “One’s across the street on the roof of a restaurant. Another one is on the roof of an office building, also across the street. And the third one is on the roof of the hotel.”
Stephenson didn’t look particularly pleased. “Scratch the third one, that’s too visible. If they set up in front of the hotel, the entire crowd’s going to be looking in their direction. Somebody’s bound to notice someone on the roof with a rifle. Plus there’s that damn statue in front that might conceal part of their bodies if they stand in front of it.”
“I’ll tell him to get a new location.”
Stephenson shook his head, still sounding unhappy. “There’s probably not going to be enough time.” Stephenson kept talking, even as Myers walked away to contact the agent at the hotel. Stephenson pointed at the screen, images of the hotel staring him in the face. “Plus it’s going to be a nightmare for him to get out of there with all those people blocking the exit. What’s he going to do? Just blend right in with everyone?”
Myers came back over after getting in touch with the agent. “He’s gonna find a new spot.”
A local news station was covering the event and started showing live footage from the area. The broadcast was put up on one of the larger screens.
“Just what we needed, live TV,” Myers said.
Stephenson wasn’t too concerned about it and didn’t really care whether it was on TV or not. As long as the agents did their job, and didn’t get caught, nobody would ever be the wiser that they were the ones behind it. Everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing and had their eyes glued to the TV broadcast. They were anxiously waiting for the proverbial hammer to fall on the leaders of the Patriotic Party.
Though tension was starting to fill the room, Stephenson wasn’t particularly nervous about what was assumed to be happening soon. He always thought people who got nervous or had anxiety about something was because they were unsure of what an outcome might be, or they worried about an action not being successful. He expected everyone in this operation, from field agents, to analysts, to supervisors, to himself, as the leader of the group, to do their job flawlessly. Mistakes and slip-ups were things that amateurs did. Project Dark Sky was a team of professionals. They were supposed to be the best. He never worried about someone failing. He always expected their actions to be successful, even though he knew there would be the occasional hiccup along the way.
Myers didn’t quite have the same nerves of steel as his boss. Though he wasn’t a nervous wreck or anything, barely able to function, or losing sleep over anything, he still did worry about agents not being able to complete an assignment, for whatever the reason. Especially when the stakes were higher. Especially when things came together at the last minute.
The room was silent as they continued to watch the TV broadcast. Right at twelve o’clock, camera shots of the crowd showed the people beginning to get more boisterous. People were chanting, waving banners and signs, as they eagerly awaited for the Patriotic Party to arrive. The crowd then suddenly erupted as the cameras zoomed in on a line of cars coming down the street. There was a convoy of about ten cars, all of them SUVs, slowly driving among the crowd which was closing in on them. It took a few minutes for the parade of vehicles to turn into the hotel.
“Here we go,” Myers said. “It’s go time. Everybody be on standby in case they need help on the ground.”
A minute later, the convoy had parked, and the leaders of the Patriotic Party had emerged from their vehicles, soaking in the adoration of their followers.
“Any last-minute orders?” Myers asked.
“Tell them they’re only to fire if they’re sure they can kill all three at the same time. Two of them dead still doesn’t do us much good. It still doesn’t cripple them.”
“Will do.”
As Myers communicated with the agents, Stephenson continued talking, not caring if anyone was listening or not.
“We need all three dead. It’s all three or nothing.”
16
Porter looked through the scope of her rifle, having one of the targets in her sight. The other two were surrounded by bodyguards or supporters of the cause, and though she thought she could probably hit them, she wasn’t a hundred percent sure. And she wasn’t going to pull the trigger unless she was absolutely certain that she could eliminate all three within a few seconds of each other. She patiently waited as the men smiled and laughed it up with their followers, shaking hands as they made their way toward the fountain in front of the hotel.
At first, only one of the men stood on the ledge of the concrete. He started addressing the crowd, trying to quiet them down so they could hear him speaking. The other two men remained mixed in with the people, obscuring them from the view of Porter’s rifle. She wasn’t panicking, though. She knew she’d have a shot soon enough. She just had to be patient enough to wait for it.
“We’ve only got one shot right now,” Myers said. “One shot. The other two are still mixed in with the crowd.”
“Patience,” Stephenson said. “No need for anyone to panic.”
“What about each agent taking out one guy? Three shots. Three angles. They won’t know where the bullets are coming from.”
“Where’s our third agent now? Did he get off the hotel rooftop?”
“He’s sitting in the back seat of his car in the parking lot of the building next to the hotel. Says he has a good angle if they’re standing on the fountain. Won’t be able to get a good shot off otherwise.”
“Fine. Set it up. He takes the man closest to him. The one on the office building takes the center man, and the one on the restaurant takes the man on the right.”
Myers quickly communicated with the agents at the scene, letting them know if all three men got within their sights, they were to each take out the man they were directed to.
“It’s done,” Myers said.
Stephenson looked at the screens, which included the TV broadcast, as well as a satellite shot. “Now all we have to do is wait for them to make themselves a target.”
About twenty minutes went by, with the same man talking at the rally. Porter was starting to wonder if it was just going to be him. The other two might have just been there for support and to show their power. She wasn’t sure how long the rally was going to last, and if it ended soon, and the men quickly got back to their cars and left the area, she wasn’t going to be able to have a shot. Not at all of them. And taking out just one of them would be pointless. Another twenty-five minutes went by, and though Porter couldn’t hear what was being said, judging by the hooting and hollering of the crowd, and the fact they seemed excited, they appeared to like what the man was blustering on about.
Forty-five minutes after the event started, the leader of the group finally stepped off the fountain, letting one of the other men up in his place. It seemed to Porter that they were taking turns one at a time. She finally let out a sigh, showing the slightest bit of frustration, thinking that this might take a while, a lot longer than she thought. At least this guy didn’t talk as long as the first one, stepping down after only ten minutes front and center. Then the third man of the leadership group stepped up, also only taking about ten minutes to speak to the crowd.
As the man finished talking, Porter realized she was about
to get her chance. Instead of getting down, the man just stood there, looking down at his co-leaders, waiting for them to join him on the platform, to soak in the adulation from the public. Porter steadied her weapon and peered through the scope on her rifle, ice water seemingly flowing through her veins, not an ounce of nerves or anxiety as she readied herself to fire.
Continuing to look through her scope, she observed the first two men stand on top of the ledge of the fountain, the three of them smiling and laughing, putting their arms in the air to encourage more applause from the throngs of people looking on. It was likely going to be Porter’s best chance at taking them out. And it was a clear shot. Getting the first man in her sights, on the right, Porter gently pulled the trigger. Knowing her shot was good, she didn’t wait to see the end result before moving to the next man. She knew there wasn’t time. It had to be done in rapid succession. She then slightly moved her weapon to the left, taking out the second man. As the third man looked on in horror at his two friends being gunned down in front of him, the next bullet entered his chest before he was able to get to safety, knocking him off the fountain as well.
Porter took a few seconds to look through the scope to observe the damage she’d caused, realizing by the commotion that she was successful in her actions. As people started running in every which direction, Porter calmly, but quickly, packed her stuff away. Not even a minute after firing the fatal shots, she grabbed her bag and walked out of the office. She went down the hall and exited through the stairwell, unflustered by what was going on outside, acting as if nothing had happened.
Everyone in the room started looking around, wondering what had happened. With a distraught look on his face, Myers looked toward his boss for answers. Unfortunately, Stephenson looked just as confused as everyone else.
