was one of the new, microprocessor controlled precision rifles designed for long range tack driving accuracy. They cost upwards of twenty thousand dollars, but were said to be remarkable in what they could do. There was no suppressor attached to the end of the barrel. Jake didn’t know if that was because Tony didn’t want to sacrifice bullet velocity or because the rifle with all its electronics wasn’t calibrated for such a device. Jake had never attempted a shot at ranges where such precision was required, and was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to make a shot at this distance. Tony didn’t seem particularly concerned about his chances.
They set up the rifle, made a couple of positional adjustments to the desk, and then Tony settled in. He spent several minutes adjusting the many controls on the rifle before taking a preliminary sighting. Finally he nodded to himself, and then sat back. Jake had set up a twenty-power spotting scope on a repositioned nightstand and with very little adjustment could switch between the fore and aft gangplanks that allowed one to board the yacht.
“I’m surprised Susan made such a push to have you support me on this mission,” Tony said finally. “She was very insistent, and made it sound like the chances of success were virtually non existent if you weren’t along. I tried to convince her I’d be more comfortable with one of the spotters I’ve worked with before.”
Jake could guess why, but there wasn’t any way to explain it to Tony. Even if he wanted to reveal his secret, this would hardly be the appropriate time. Tony needed his mind on the shot.
“What do you think our chances are?” Jake asked.
“I’m still doubtful that he’ll show,” Tony replied. “I wouldn’t. Even if he does, it’s a long shot and he’ll have to cooperate and stand relatively still for long enough to trigger the shot and allow the bullet to get there. A couple of seconds altogether. I don’t see him leaning on the rail and watching the city as they pull away.”
The morning passed very slowly. Jake wished he’d learned more about when and where Varennikov had been spotted, but at the time that had been ancient history and not important. It was difficult to stay alert and ready to act quickly as the hours stretched on. Several times they spotted individuals coming on board, but each time they were able to dismiss the arrival as someone other than their target.
It was nearly noon when it happened. Two men climbed the forward boarding ramp, almost at the same time as a single visitor climbed the rear. The two men in the front appeared to ignore one another. Jake switched back and forth trying to see anything that would mark or eliminate the three individuals as their target. One of the men in front turned aft once he stepped onto the deck. Jake was able to see that he was far to stout to be the Russian. The other headed toward the doorway just behind the control room. He pulled open the door, then turned and glanced back at the mainland. The hesitation was brief, perhaps as long as five seconds, and then he turned and stepped inside. Five seconds wasn’t much, but it was long enough for Jake to recognize Varennikov.
Jake back-tracked a handful of minutes.
“Tony,” Jake said softly. “Get ready.”
“Do you see something?” Tony asked. “There hadn’t been anyone coming or going for nearly a half hour.
“In about two minutes a pair of men will come aboard via the forward ramp. Ignore the one on the left. The other, the one on the right, will turn toward the doorway. That’ll be Varennikov. He’ll pause briefly at the door. Then he’ll be gone. You’ll only have a couple of seconds to make a shot.”
“How can you know that? We have to be certain. I want a positive ID before I’ll attempt a shot.”
“You know what Varennikov looks like. You’ll have time to verify for yourself, but don’t linger. As you said, it takes a while for the bullet to reach that far.”
Tony was about to object, but while they had talked he’d kept his eyes glued to the scope. Two men had just appeared as Trask had predicted. He tracked the two men, keeping the sight picture on the one that headed toward the door. When the man turned, Tony felt a tightening of his gut. It was Varennikov. How had Trask known?