Net Force - Tom Clancy [132]
Commander?
Right here, Colonel.
Mission accomplished, sir. Were in the air and on the way home.
Michaels felt an immense welling of relief. All right! Congratulations, Colonel. Any problems?
Nothing to speak of, sir. A walk in the park.
Toni came back into the room. Michaels looked at her, pointed at the telephones receiver and gave her the thumb-and-forefinger sign for okay.
We should see you in about sixteen hours, Commander, give or take.
I will look forward to it. Congratulations again, Colonel. Well done.
Michaels broke the connection and grinned at Toni. They got him. On the way home. Be here tomorrow.
Ill give Jay Gridley a call, she said. He wanted to know how it came out.
Do that.
So, now what, Alex? If youre right, we have the man who killed Steve Day, even if we cant prove he did it. The woman who muddied up the waters is dead.
Back to business as usual, I guess, he said. If I survive the meeting with Carver when I tell him what I did.
You will. The Director looks at the bottom line. This is like Bushs Noriega deal, or that Iraqi snatched from Baghdad during the last days of the Clinton Administration. Our current President wanted this guy caught, hes caught. Hes the DOJs problem now.
After we have a few words with him.
Of course. But basically, its all over.
Yes, he said. All over. And all in all, we didnt do too bad, did we?
No. We didnt do too bad.
They grinned at each other.
EPILOGUE
Sunday, October 10th, 11:30 a.m. Quantico
Ruzhyo, dressed in the fatigues of a United States Marine sergeant, stood outside and next to the chain-link fence that surrounded the Net Force HQ building. He was three hundred meters from the front entrance, but the deer rifle inside the duffel bag on the ground next to his feet was more than accurate enough to make that shot on a man-sized target. The rifle was a Remington, and not a Winchester, but it was also 30-06 caliber, and also a bolt-action, like the weapon he had used in Oregon to kill the computer businessman. The main difference was that the scope was optical and not holographic, with a ten-power magnification, and zeroed in at three hundred meters. He had picked this spot for the shot before he set up the rifle.
There was a bus stop here, still so new there was no graffiti drawn upon it. He could dawdle for a few minutes before anybody noticed him. Even on a Sunday, there were people coming and going in enough numbers so that no-body would worry overmuch about another Marine waiting to catch a bus.
If the Net Force Commander did not come out for lunch, Ruzhyo would leave, then cycle back later, to see if he could catch him departing for the day. If he did not spot him then, perhaps he would set up along his route home. There was always somewhere.
A plain white Dodge van with government plates pulled up near the entrance. Ruzhyo had a tiny eight-power Bushnell monocular in his pocket, a device small enough to conceal entirely in one hand. He leaned sideways against the fence and cupped the monocular in front of his eye.
The door to the building opened and an attractive brunette emerged, moved to stand by the van. Immediately behind her was Alexander Michaels, and two men who looked like guards flanked him.
Ruzhyos luck was good. This would have to be fast. A man standing at the fence aiming a rifle would draw attention, Marine or not. He bent, unzipped the duffel bag. The rifle was ready. All he had to do was lift it, stick the barrel through the fence, which would offer an excellent shooting platform, line the crosshairs up and squeeze off the round. A five-second operation if he hurried, perhaps ten if he took his time.
Smooth movements were the key. Nothing jerky. Just lift the weapon, push it through the link, take the deep breath and hold it, find the target. He moved.
The scope, a Leupold, had excellent optics. The sight picture was clear and sharp.
There he was.
Ruzhyo placed the wavering crosshairs on the mans chest
At this distance, the scopes circular field was large enough so that Michaels