Stephen Leather - The Long shot

Carlos relaxed as he flew over the water. He’d given it his best shot. He had done nothing to be ashamed of. He looked down at the white tips of the waves some four thousand feet below him. A man could hide for a long time under the water, he thought. Maybe for ever. He opened the briefcase and took out the P228. He unscrewed the silencer and tossed it into the rear of the plane. There would be nobody around to hear the shot. He took his left hand off the control yolk and pressed the barrel of the gun to his right temple.

“Magdalena, I love you,” he whispered.

The doctor put the finishing touches to the dressings and stepped back to admire his handiwork. “You’re a very lucky man, Special Agent Howard,” he said.

“I don’t feel particularly lucky, Doc,” Howard replied.

The doctor removed his rubber gloves and tossed them into a trash bag. “If the bullet hadn’t glanced off your shoulder blade, and if it had exited downwards and not upwards, you wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

Howard was sitting on the edge of a hospital cot, stripped to the waist. He tried to stand but the doctor shook his head and held up his hand, Indian-greeting style, and told him to stay put. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You need at least a day in bed.”

“I want to go home,” said Howard.

“I gather home is in Phoenix, and you’re in no fit state to be flying. You stay put, and that’s an order.”

“But my wife. .” Howard began,

“. . is waiting outside,” finished the doctor. He nodded to a nurse who left the room and came back a few minutes later with Lisa.

Lisa Howard rushed over to the cot, went to hug her husband, then held herself back as she saw the dressings. “I won’t break,” Howard said quietly and she grinned and reached for him. There were tears in her eyes. “What are you doing here?” he asked in amazement.

“Jake called me and said I should get here. Daddy arranged a jet.” She looked suddenly uncomfortable at the mention of her father, and Howard couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s great,” he said. “Honey, that’s just great.” He stood up and hugged her hard, squeezing her against him even though it hurt like hell.

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” Lisa whispered into his ear. “About the golf clubs. About everything. When can you come home?”

“Tonight,” said Howard.

“When he’s stronger,” insisted the doctor.

The door opened again and Bob Sanger appeared with Don Clutesi close behind. Clutesi was smiling. “Cole, how are you?” asked Sanger.

“Fine,” said Howard.

The doctor sighed in exasperation. “Agent Howard, try to remember that I’m the one with the medical degree, will you?”

Howard grinned at Sanger. “Really, Bob, I’ll be okay.”

“Are you up for a visitor?” Sanger asked.

“This is my wife, Lisa. She’s the only visitor I need right now.” He kept a tight hold on his wife’s hand as if afraid that she’d leave him.

“Oh, I think you might want to make an exception in this case,” said Sanger, opening the door wide.

Two more Secret Service agents entered, checked out the room, then went to stand in opposite corners like trained attack dogs. Three more men appeared, and Howard sat up straighter as he recognised the one in the centre. It was the President, flanked by agents. Howard thought he seemed surprisingly calm, considering what he’d been through.

“Special Agent Howard, I just wanted to thank you for your actions today. I will be forever in your debt.” There was no doubting the sincerity in the President’s voice nor the concern in his voice. “Are you okay?”

Before Howard could reply, the doctor stepped forward. “A few days’ rest and he’ll be fine,” he said.

The President nodded. “Good, I’m real glad to hear that. Real glad. If there’s anything I can do, don’t hesitate to call my office.”

“Yes, sir. I will. But Mike Cramer is the one who you should thank,” said Howard. “He’s the one who saved the Prime Minister.”

“I wish I could, Agent Howard,” said the President. “If it wasn’t for him I’d have a hell of a lot of explaining to do to the British Government. Unfortunately he seems to have disappeared.”

Howard looked across at Sanger in surprise. “What happened?”

It was the doctor who answered. “We don’t know,” he said. “We were treating him here in Shock-trauma, the nurse left him alone for a few minutes, when she got back he was gone.”

“Is he okay?”

“He has a bruise the size of a dinner plate on his chest and he won’t be doing any hang-gliding for a while, but he’s in no serious danger. The body armour wasn’t even pierced.” He smiled. “I think the manufacturers could use him to advertise their product.”

“Is what I hear true, that the sniper was more than one mile away?” asked the President, his head cocked to the right.

“Two thousand yards,” said Howard.

“If it had been much closer, the slug would have gone right through the vest, and him,” said the doctor. “As it was, the bullet had slowed down considerably, but it was still travelling at several hundred feet per second when it hit him.”

“That’s absolutely unbelievable,” said the President, shaking his head in amazement. “It almost defies comprehension. What Cramer did is just as unbelievable, diving in the path of the bullet the way he did.”

Howard wondered what it was that had inspired Cramer to throw himself in front of the bullet. Then it came to him in a flash — Cramer hadn’t been concerned about saving the Prime Minister so much as he had been about thwarting Mary Hennessy. It was hatred which had driven Cramer, not respect for the politician. Howard realised that the President was looking at him, waiting for him to say something.

“I’m glad you’re all right, sir,” Howard said.

The President flashed his trademark grin. “Agent Howard, you’re not alone in that.” He turned and smiled at Bob Sanger. “Maybe you should get this man on our team, Bob.”

“Sounds good to me, sir,” replied Sanger.

The President turned back to Howard. “Well, I suppose I must be going. I’m supposed to be taking the PM to the aquarium, but I don’t think he’s in the mood for looking at fish.” He smiled and held out his hand. “I owe you one, Agent Howard.”

Howard shook the President’s hand. The flesh was warm and the grip was firm.

Lisa stepped forward as the President and his entourage left the hospital room. She looked as if she was going to say something but then changed her mind. Instead, she kissed her husband on the mouth, hard and with feeling. It was Howard who broke away first. Clutesi was grinning.

“Any news of Carlos?” Howard asked.

“Not yet, but he won’t get far,” Clutesi answered. “Kelly Armstrong was just asking me the same question.”

“She’s here?”

“Downstairs. They were treating her for shock but she was checking herself out when I saw her. She was with Hennessy when she was killed. She was covered in her blood.”

“How come?”

Clutesi shrugged. “She was up in the stands when the SWAT sniper took Hennessy out.” Clutesi stood by the window. He slanted the blinds so that he could look down at the road below.

“That seems like a hell of a coincidence,” said Sanger.

Clutesi saw Kelly Armstrong leave the main entrance and walk purposefully down the road, her blonde hair swinging gently in the breeze. She was a real stunner, thought Clutesi, and from the way she swung her hips she knew it. There was something familiar about her, something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He’d seen her before at the same angle, looking down at her from a window. Clutesi clasped a hand to the back of his neck. A bar. She’d been going into a bar and he’d been on surveillance. It came to him in a rush and he slapped his hand against his leg. “Now I remember!” he shouted.