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I shook my head and looked around the car, checking that I had everything I needed. The suitcase containing the sniper rifle was on the seat. I had a pair of telescopes on the seat next to me too. I touched my waist and felt the cool frame of my pistol there.
Good.
I kept driving. I had studied the location and floor plan of Marcello’s mansion with Elise, and I had a spot in mind for where I would set up and complete the operation, but I would have to get there and do another thorough inspection of the area first.
I kept thinking of Elise. What was she be doing right now? The CIA would try to convince her to sell me out, but something deep down told me that she would rather die than do that.
We had plans. Before I came here, I’d sat with her by the beach and we’d talked about things. We had discussed what the CIA would likely do if things went bad. They had nothing on her. She was a crime-free US citizen on the run from domestic violence. She wasn’t just some criminal like me they could do whatever they wanted with.
Once Marcello was dead, she would be free, rich, and safe. She could find some nice guy who would be my child’s father, and most likely a better one anyway. Not all the love in the world could wash away my past sins.
I drove for an hour before I arrived at Marcello’s castle-like estate. Then I remembered Elise had warned me not to stop the car in front of it, even for a few moments, as Marcello had his men look into even the lightest abnormalities, including an unidentified car parking near the estate with a running engine.
So I parked the car at a safe distance and waited for an opportunity to complete the only job I had in my life. I smiled at the thought that before Elise I was convinced I would die forgotten and alone, but now I died for love. It was more than I could have ever asked for.
The house was actually a large compound surrounded by a ten-foot-high brick fence. From any decently sized tree, you could see the vast number of stairs that led to the main entrance. It was just two floors, yet the walls were tall, and the front looked like the architect took their inspiration from a church design.
I picked up my night-vision binoculars and looked at the house. There were guards in corporate suits, and they stood around in a formation. One stood on the staircase, hands at his sides. The other was standing next to the door, both hands folded across his chest and a headset attached to his ear.
But what threw me off even more were the closed curtains in all the windows.
I scanned the yard. There were guards around there too. Many of them were dressed in suits. You could tell trained men from amateurs by how they walked and carried themselves. And these guys were not just thugs; their movements were measured, and they moved almost mechanically.
No smoke breaks.
No neck or hand tattoos.
Several black SUVs and white surveillance vans parked on the property.
These professionals weren't Marcello’s.
They were FBI agents.
I just needed one more piece of proof. So, I started the car and reached for the “I LOVE NY” T-shirt I had bought from a souvenir stand. I had a matching fishing hat for it. I began to circle the building from a distance, until I ran into one of their SUVs parked outside of the complex. I parked the car right in front of them and got out. Running straight to the driver’s side of the SUV, I knocked and grinned like an idiot.
Moments later, the window opened and a man wearing a bulletproof vest with “FBI” written on it cussed into my face.
“Get lost! Now!” he said.
“Excuse me,” I said in a thick German accent. “I am looking for my hotel? Do you know New York.”
“I said piss off,” the man said and rolled the window back up.
I apologized over and over and got back into my car.
“That Luck Murphy bastard,” I muttered as I drove away. Not far from the main gate I saw another SUV. I read the number plates. Although it gave nothing away, I assumed it was FBI too. Luck Murphy had put them here to wait for me. He knew I would be coming to execute Marcello, and the CIA had no jurisdiction to arrest me on US soil. So the FBI was doing their dirty work.
I drove to a safe spot further away again and waited. As someone who has played this game for a long time, I could guarantee a few things. The FBI already knew my target, and they were waiting for me. They also knew I was a sniper, so that’s why Marcello’s curtains were all closed. That son of a bitch was most likely getting bulletproof windows soon and wouldn’t leave his complex at night or until I was caught.
I’d been walking into a trap. I could go home and pray that Marcello would never find us if we kept running and changing countries frequently. Or I could walk straight into that trap and kill him even though there was a high chance that I would get caught. The CIA would torture me for a while for information, then get rid of me altogether.
I shook my head and took a deep breath. Then I smiled. There were things more important than the life of a man expecting his own child: the lives of his child and his wife.
Hmm.I wondered at that. Did I just think of Elise as my wife?
I nodded.I did.
I exhaled a deep breath and picked up my phone. I needed to send her one last message. I would go into this trap and take out her piece-of-shit husband. The only people I cared for next to my sister would be safe, and I could die with a smile on my lips.
