Assassin's Mark by Ward Larsen

Author:Ward Larsen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tor Publishing Group

THIRTY-SIX

As busy as Slaton was, he guessed Sorensen was busier. For that reason, he asked Goode to send her a message requesting a call. Even assassins had to tolerate some degree of corporate etiquette.

Slaton viewed every minute of preparation as insurance, so while he waited for Sorensen’s call, he went back to the photo surveillance. He began with the God’s-eye view of Li Qiang’s residence, a high-res image acquired only hours earlier. What he saw was mostly predictable, an executive mansion that was part fortress, part playground. The house was set on the side of a mountain on Hong Kong Island, overlooking the high-rises and tenements of the greater city across Kowloon Bay.

The main house was large, as were a handful of surrounding residences in what had to be an exclusive enclave. Wealth disparities were extreme in the communist “People’s Republic,” and for the fortunate few discretion was mandatory. The lone access road that snaked up from the city was protected by a gate at the bottom—nothing particularly secure, but more a message to the commoners. The road climbed steeply, offering sweeping views all the way to Victoria Peak. The peak itself was home to a cluster of radio and telecommunications antennae.

As he studied it all, Slaton ran headlong into a shooter’s most common problem—geometry. The gradient of the hillside was steep all around. The undisputed high ground was the nest of towers on Victoria Peak, but setting up there was problematic for two reasons. The first involved the tower array itself. He saw strong security around the base of the complex; dual fences, gated access, and while there was no sign of guards, he was sure the place would be riddled with surveillance cameras. The second drawback was even more damning—the towers looked down over the front of the residence. From that vantage point, Slaton’s only opportunity to target both men would be to catch them arriving or departing. Not only did this give a narrow window of opportunity, but an expansive portico above the front entrance restricted the line of sight. He also saw few windows in front offering a “look” inside the mansion, and the angles would be acute.

He moved on.

As expected, the backside of the house was a virtual theater of glass, the usual architectural cliché for drinking in urban vistas. It was a weakness Slaton had often exploited: designers and builders, by nature, emphasized aesthetics and grandeur over security. And when they installed glass on half a mansion’s rear-facing wall, it was rarely the expensive, bullet-resistant variety. Even so, he made a mental note to have Goode try to chase down the construction records. Outside all those back windows, a broad balcony ran the width of the main floor.

From there Slaton scanned down the hill and tried to read the terrain, looking for possible avenues of approach. Everywhere he saw challenges.

His phone rang.

He looked down and saw a padlock symbol, which supposedly guaranteed the call was secure. If only it were so easy, he thought as he picked up the call.

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