Chapter 1

Case Jacobson stood at the open window, arms folded across her chest. White surgical gloves and close-cropped blonde hair stood out against her jet black T-shirt tucked into equally black jeans.

She watched through the break in the curtains, as a dozen different workers dressed the stage for the afternoon rally. Her seventh floor hotel room window afforded her a clear view of the entire platform, as well as the surrounding parkland. The day was overcast, making everything seem damp somehow, but the stagehands diligently went about laying the tarp over the cables strewn across the wood and metal framework. Several people started bringing chairs up onto the stage in preparation for the guest of honor and his entourage.

Case took that as her cue and turned back to the room to finish up her own preparations. She took the two short steps to the bed and opened up the large black metallic case she'd placed there earlier. Her eyes rested briefly on the rifle components nestled in the charcoal gray foam, before moving to the black nylon bag lying on the floor near her feet.

She bent over to unzip the bag and lifted out the tripod she'd purchased with the gun. It was heavier than those she'd used in the past, mostly due to the special motor she'd bought for it, but her well-toned arms had no trouble handling the extra weight. She set up the rig in front of the window, adjusting the legs until one was clamped securely to the inside edge of the sill while the other two were braced against the floor, and then went back to the bed.

With cool precision, she removed each of the pieces of the modified SR-25 sniper rifle and snapped them together. When she was finished, Case attached the gun to its mount, making sure the line of sight for the large scope was between the edges of the curtains she'd tacked down earlier in case the wind picked up. She could just imagine the response she'd receive if she had to explain how she'd failed because a simple piece of cloth had gotten in her way.

Case shook her head, as she forced the vivid mental images to the back of her mind and willed herself to focus on the task at hand. She chambered the first round and then returned to the bed, her slight frown fading, as her well-practiced detachment reasserted itself.

She reached into the black bag again and pulled out the remote control unit she'd put together for the gun and tripod using state-of-the-art spy paraphernalia she'd bought online with parts she'd picked up at a hobby supply store. She unfolded the headset and slipped it on like a pair of headphones, the single eyepiece fitting snugly over her right eye and plunging it into darkness. She tapped a green button on the tiny control box near her right ear and the eyepiece lit up, giving her an unfocused view of the stage through the scope mounted on the rifle. Orange numbers in the top right corner of the display estimated the distance as 161.85 meters, or 177 yards, which was well within the 800-meter range of the rifle.

She reached up to the control box at her other ear and turned it on as well, before rolling the horizontal-control dial. Case turned her head to watch the tripod move to the right, as the image relayed by the eyepiece did the same. Using her thumb, she rolled the vertical-control dial. The tripod's well-oiled gears silently repositioned the rifle's aim upward, moving the picture up with it. She moved a similar dial near her right ear to finally bring the picture into focus.

Satisfied, Case simultaneously hit both green buttons again to turn off the individual remotes and removed the headgear, collapsing it and placing it on the bed. She closed the empty briefcase and dragged the black bag over to the window.

She unzipped the inside pocket and pulled out a small block of plastique. Its consistency reminded Case of gray clay, as she pressed and molded it to the gun's fully loaded 20-round magazine. She reached into the pocket again and retrieved a tiny box with two wires protruding from one end. She pressed the small electronic device into the plastique and pushed both wires in as well. She felt around inside the pocket one last time and pulled out a larger box studded with several buttons and a switch. She pressed the first button, and then flicked the switch, looking up to see a green light come on in the top of the small box embedded in the plastique. She nodded to herself and flicked the switch back and pressed the button again. The green light flickered off.

Case set the device next to the headgear on the bed and zipped up the nylon bag. She stood and went over to the window and looked out. The stagehands had finished setting up the chairs and had brought up a podium and were now placing speakers around the stage and connecting them to the cables that had been laid out under the tarp. A crowd was gathering in front of the stage.

Case turned and grabbed her jacket off the back of one of the chairs. She settled it over her shoulders and picked up the headset and little black box, slipping them into the outside pockets of her jacket. She reached down to grasp the nylon strap of the black bag and slung it over her shoulder, and then picked up the briefcase from the bed. She walked to the hotel room door and opened it with her free hand.

She turned around and took one last look around the room, before closing and locking the door. She glanced up and down the hallway to make sure she was alone, and then set down the briefcase for a few moments in order to pull off her surgical gloves. She quickly stuffed them in her jeans pocket, and then picked up the case again, as she headed for the elevators.

She fished out her sunglasses from the inside pocket of her jacket, while she waited for the lift. It arrived, empty, and she got on alone. The walls were mirrored, so Case turned her gaze to the floor. She didn't need to see her reflection to know what she would find: a too thin body covered in too pale skin, where it wasn't concealed by the hip-length black leather jacket and black jeans; short blonde hair she cut herself every few weeks and which hadn't seen a comb in years, since her fingers did just fine on their own; green eyes that would have appeared dull if she hadn't hidden them behind black shades. She wasn't very tall, but that was one of the few things she'd found to be an advantage in her line of work; no one ever considered her a threat until it was too late to do anything about it.

The elevator doors slid open, and Case walked into the lobby and out the front exit. She made her way through the parking lot and arrived at her black Ford Expedition in only a few minutes. She thumbed her remote and opened the rear door to throw her bags into the huge cargo area, consciously ignoring the main reason her job sometimes necessitated the same amount of room as a hearse. She slammed the door closed and walked around to the driver's side, getting behind the wheel and keying the ignition. She didn't go very far. She parked across the street from the hotel in front of where the rally was about to take place.

Case pulled out the headset, unfolding it and putting it on. She tapped the green buttons again and the eyepiece lit up. She fingered the dials to realign the image back on the stage and watched, as the distinguished guests were led onto the platform.

Finally, a tall, older man, slightly pudgy from a little too much deskwork, was shown to his seat near the middle of the stage. He flashed his artificial smile around and was rewarded with several camera flashes in return.

Case let her attention drift to the rest of the attendees still filing onto the stage. They were a mix of older and younger men, all colleagues and underlings of the Senator. She rolled the dials at her ears and brought the crosshairs overlaying the center of the picture back to him. She looked across the street to see the crowd settling down. Then she heard a deep voice come over the loudspeaker and returned her attention to the image filtering through the eyepiece.

A young man stood at the podium and began to address the crowd. She only half-listened to what he was saying, waiting for him to introduce the guest of honor. He finally did and she quickly rolled the dials under her fingers, making sure to keep the image in focus and on target, as the older man stood and moved forward. He smiled and raised his hands in greeting to the crowd, as he walked to stand before the podium. Case lightly rested her right index finger on the red button positioned beneath the green button and waited.

The Senator waved his hands at the crowd again, this time trying to stop their cheering, so he could speak. Finally, they calmed down, and he lowered his hands to grasp the sides of the podium. He stood there for a moment to gather his words, and Case pushed the button. His head slammed back, and he pitched backward onto the stage. Several people rushed to his side.

After zooming in for a close-up to make sure the bullet had hit him square in the forehead, Case tapped the green buttons again and the eyepiece went black. She removed the headset and folded it back up, returning it to her pocket. She keyed the ignition and pulled away from the curb, only to stop again a moment later when she came to a red light.

She reached into her other pocket to pull out the small black box with the switch and pressed the middle button this time. When the traffic light turned green, she tapped the accelerator, flicking the switch at the same time. She glanced at her rear view mirror when she heard the muffled boom and saw debris hit the street. She forced her eyes forward again and shoved the box back into her pocket, as she continued on down the road.