Chapter 1
The assassin laid in the darkness, perched on the rooftop of a four-story building. She was wearing all black, her long blond hair tied back in a ponytail. She peered through the scope of her rifle and traced her shot to the doorway of the restaurant across the street and halfway down the block. Any minute now, her targets would be exiting. She had been tracking them for over six months. She knew that, every Sunday, they ate dinner here, at Salvatore’s on Taylor Street, in the section of Chicago known as Little Italy. They always arrived at seven and left anywhere between nine and ten. Last Sunday, the assassin had dined in the restaurant, arriving slightly before seven. She had seen her targets arrive right at seven with a phalanx of six bodyguards. She had dined alone and then left right after her targets had departed, around 9:42. She checked her watch. It was now 9:37. Tonight, she had arrived in the neighborhood at 6:30. She had drank a cappuccino at a coffee shop across the street from the restaurant and had seen her targets enter the restaurant at seven with the same phalanx of bodyguards. Then she went around the alley to her car, changed out of her jeans and button-down shirt into her black tactical outfit, grabbed her rifle case, and had entered the building and climbed to the rooftop. She had jammed the access door to the rooftop so she would remain undisturbed. She had set up her rifle and since then had been laying dead still for two and a half hours, as dusk turned to darkness, waiting for her targets to exit. She had wiggled her toes and fingers every five minutes, keeping her extremities mobile, since once her targets emerged from the restaurant, she would need to act instantly.
The assassin felt herself drifting, so she allowed herself to relax for a few seconds. She closed her eyes for three seconds and then re-opened them. The world sharpened, and she felt herself refocus. Her hands never left the barrel and the trigger of her rifle. She peered through the scope again and traced her shot for the umpteenth time. Just under three hundred yards. Her longest shot had been seven hundred yards. It wasn't a long shot for her by any means, but everything still had to go according to plan. The assassin started to look at her watch again, and as she did, she heard the sound of two car motors. She looked up and saw two black Mercedes sedans pull up in front of the restaurant. The assassin had seen her targets exit these vehicles, and she had no doubt that the vehicles were armor plated. The driver of each vehicle got out, scanned the street, then walked around to the curbside and opened the door to the back seat. The assassin took a deep breath and peered back through the scope. Her targets would be exiting the restaurant any minute now. She had one chance, maybe three seconds at most, to take out both targets. Any misses, or any longer than three seconds, and her targets would be in their bulletproof vehicles. Months of waiting and careful planning would be down the drain. She could not fail. She took another deep breath, exhaled and waited.
Thirty seconds later, four men the size of professional wrestlers wearing Italian cut suits exited the restaurant. They scanned the street quickly and then motioned behind them. The two targets came out of the restaurant, talking with each other and walking slowly to the cars. Five more seconds and they would be inside. The assassin took one last deep breath, exhaled slowly, and then gently squeezed the trigger. The bullet traveled through the silencer and hit the first target in the right temple. He went limp instantly and fell to the ground. The second target registered that something was seriously wrong and started to shout for help, but he was a second too late. Before he could get a word out, a bullet struck him right between the eyes, and he went down as fast as the first target. Chaos erupted outside of the front of the restaurant as the bodyguards sprung into action. Passersby scattered as four of the bodyguards formed a defensive perimeter and raised their weapons while the other two bodyguards checked on the targets. It was an impressive display of activity, but it was all for naught, as they were too late. Both targets had died before they hit the ground. As panic set into the mafia personnel currently outside Salvatore’s, the assassin raised herself to a crouching position. She quickly dismantled and then stowed her rifle into a soft carrying case that she slung over her shoulder, then picked up the two spent shell casings and put them in her pocket. Then, she peered up over the side of the building at the chaos that had developed on the street below.
Amid the chaos, one of the bodyguards thought he saw the slightest bit of movement on a rooftop across the street and halfway down the block, but he couldn’t be sure, and as his associates continued to shout and the sound of sirens approached, the assassin stood up, backed into the shadows, and disappeared.