It also might do, he figured, to find out from the household help what times of day the shooting took place, as those could be run against average wind speed, so he would also shoot when the speed of the wind was closest to the speed of the shot he’d come all this way to make. The position of the sun was another issue; he’d shoot when it most precisely matched the position it would be on the day of the shot.

So: he had direction, distance, the difference between the shooting site’s elevation and that of the target, the presence of water between himself and target, the wind speed, the position of the sun. All of these factors Neill could magically enter into a computer program and test for real-world matches, particularly at places, as yet to be determined, where likely targets would likely be. In that way, perhaps they’d unlock the secret and could deploy in time to prevent.

Anything else?

He racked his brain, came up with nothing. But of course Mr. Gold had yet to run his fine mind over the data. The Israeli was back in Washington, not being a necessary raid component.

“Mr. Swagger?”

“Yes.”

“Just heard from the cadaver team. The methane probe has turned up a batch of bodies. We have forensics on the way.”

“Got it. Can you have the guys do a fine-tooth-comb search of this area? Maybe there’s something here worth looking at.”

“They’re already on it.”

“And I guess they ought to do the same to this shooting platform.”

“Just waiting for you to come down. Be careful, now.”

“I’m fine,” he said, then slipped and fell down the seven feet and landed on his rear.

Men rushed to him, hands helping pull him to his feet, urgent faces projecting worry that he’d hurt himself seriously.

“I’m fine,” he said, flexing, stretching, bending. “I only hurt my dignity. And my ass.”

57

The target zone, 1,847.5 yards out

There it is,” he said.

It was a building new to this ancient neighborhood, glassy and still clean, and full of optimism, when around it were so much blight, sadness, desolation, and dismay.

It was night in the city. In this far zone, separated by a river from the storied downtown, there wasn’t much in the way of nightlife, street activity, vibrancy. In fact, the glory of the building had exactly the opposite effect that its designers had hoped for. Instead of livening up the street, by contrast it pointed out the tragedy of urban decay that surrounded it. Maybe it was a new start, maybe it too would lose its glamour and go the way of the sad brick and peeling paint that had claimed all the other structures. Who could know?

“Is our trip over?” asked Alberto.

“No. We will make a circuit of the block, then head out, find someplace to put up and stay the night.”