Page 107 of Savage Justice

“The Kaminski compound is north of the city,” Rome informs me, studying the map.

“I know that,” I growl. Does he think I came over here blind? I’ve scrutinised every inch of the Kaminski stronghold using drone footage provided by Marius. I selected my spot days ago.

“Drop me at the foot of that hill to the west,” I tell him.

“Right. Then what?”

“Then you fuck off somewhere with the van and stay out of sight until I call you.”

“How long do you think…?”

“How the fuck would I know?” A stakeout can be just a couple of minutes or several days. It all depends on what the target is up to that day.

“What if you need backup?”

“I won’t.”

He shrugs. “Fair enough. But you’ve got two days, then I come looking for you.”

“Okay.” With luck, I’ll be done long before that.

I disembark from the nondescript white van and heft my canvas bag of tricks over my shoulder. I give Rome a cheery wave as I start to jog up the steep, wooded incline.

I climb for maybe an hour, pausing periodically to check the line of sight. The ideal angle will give me a view right into the Kaminski mansion, but I have no way of knowing which rooms will be occupied by Borys. I do know, though, that the master bedroom is on the other side of the house from where I mean to set up, and the second-best room is right in the centre of the first floor on this facade. As the elder Kaminski, Oscar, is in residence here—and rumoured to be at death’s door—we’ve assumed he’ll be ensconced in the master suite. My hunch is that Kristian will have relegated his brother-in-law to less grand accommodations, hopefully on this side of the mansion.

We shall soon see.

I pick my spot. A secluded patch of woodland about a mile from the closest track. I’m not expecting to be disturbed by passing hikers or bird-spotters, and the trees’ canopy offers protection against being detected from above. There’s no defence against thermal imaging cameras, but I have no reason to expect that sort of tech out here.

I take my time setting up my rig, making use of natural materials to conceal the glint of metal. I note the position of the sun and tug several branches down to provide shade, using thin wire to hold them in place. Once I’m satisfied that I won’t be spotted from any direction, I settle in to watch the house.

My long-range scope is as powerful as they get, delivering me crystal-clear views from my perch over a mile away. I estimate the distance to be around two thousand metres, on the long side, but as there’s virtually no cross wind, and I’m positioned above the mansion, it will be fine. Obviously, if the weather changes, my strategy will need to be amended, but for now this is good.

For the first hour or so there’s almost no activity in or around the house. I have a clear view of the main gate and of the guard stationed there who never moves from his position. I’m on alert when the front door opens, but it’s only a middle-aged woman, some sort of housekeeper or servant, who takes a meal to the man at the gate then goes back inside.

I’ve been set up for over three hours before I actually spot Borys. He passes the window in one of the downstairs rooms. I consult the plan I have of the house. He’s in the dining room. I focus my scope there and observe him tucking in to what looks to be some sort of goulash.

My stomach rumbles, but I ignore it. I never eat while on a job, disturbs the concentration.

The angle isn’t quite good enough to take him out from here, but it’s close. If he’ll oblige me by coming over to the window again…

He finishes his meal and leaves the table to disappear back into the bowels of the mansion. Shit!

An hour or so later he hasn’t reappeared, but a movement away to my left catches my attention. It’s a car. No, two cars, and they seem to be approaching the Kaminski property.

I swing my scope around to take a good look.

They’re police. Interesting.

They reach the gate and are confronted by the armed guard. There’s some sort of exchange, which involves the guard making a phone call to fuck knows who, then he opens the gate to allow the vehicles to enter. They roll to a stop in front of the main door. Two uniformed men exit each vehicle.

The housekeeper answers the knock. There’s a brief exchange on the doorstep, then she closes the door on the four officers and goes back inside. A couple of minutes later the door opens again and Borys steps outside.

Bingo!

I squat behind my rig, my eye to the scope. I have his heart in my crosshairs, and I slowly increase the pressure on the trigger. This is it, the moment of utmost concentration, calm. I cease to breathe…

Fuck. One of the police officers has moved between me and Borys. I relax my trigger finger.