“Probably,” Jose replies. “He has a role in everything.”

Mark thinks back to the moment when Lennon signed his album. He had the perfect opportunity to kill him, but something about it didn’t feel right.

It makes him question whether he has the strength—the courage—to go through with this.

He feels like the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz.

“It must be incredible seeing a great star like John Lennon all the time,” Mark says, eyes on the traffic. “Lennon is probably the most popular person in the world right now. He’s like a god or something. I wish I had your job.”

Jose nods respectfully.

A black limousine rolls up and stops at a traffic light on the corner.

Mark reaches into his pocket.

Waits.

The light changes from red to green.

The limo takes a wide turn left, heading his way.

Mark feels adrenaline flooding his veins. He’s seen other fancy cars carrying Dakota residents like Lauren Bacall and Leonard Bernstein, but he has a strong feeling that Lennon is inside that limo, coming back home.

Coming back to me.

History and time, coming together.

Mark tightly grips the .38 Charter Arms as the limo pulls against the curb. He stands at an angle midway between the building and the street.

Yoko steps out of the car.

Mark is twenty feet away. He tries to get her attention by nodding.

She doesn’t nod back.

Lennon gets out of the vehicle and follows after his wife. He turns to Mark and gives him a cold, hard stare.

For some reason it brings to mind the Wizard of Oz photograph he left behind on the hotel-room dresser—Dorothy wiping away the tear of the Cowardly Lion.

Lennon walks past him. There is dead calm.

Mark takes five steps toward the street.

Stops.

Turns.

Gets in a combat stance and pulls out his .38 revolver, loaded with hollow-point bullets.

*  *  *

John Lennon has his back to him; doesn’t see the move or the gun.

At close range, Mark fires.

The sound is loud—and thrilling. He didn’t know if the bullets would actually work. He feared one or more of them had been damaged during the flight and would malfunction.

“Help him, help him,” Yoko yells. “He’s been shot, he’s been shot,” she screams. “Somebody come quickly.”

Mark pulls the trigger again—hears the loud gunshot and sees Lennon stumble.

They’re working, he thinks as he fires shot after shot into Lennon’s back and shoulder.

Lennon, incredibly, is still standing. The man stumbles away toward the front steps of the Dakota. He drops several cassettes and collapses inside the doorman’s guardhouse.

You won’t survive this. You’re as good as dead.