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By Robert Ludlum

The bestselling mystery from 'the world's so much learn writer'. GQ

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A small burst of wood splinters erupted at waist point, as one other shot flicked off the rail of the wood bridge and into the water. the standard of the capturing used to be notable: it was once just a topic of time earlier than one reached the X-ring. He’d made a mistake whilst he’d charged towards York Bridge: the 2 photographs they’d simply taken used to be evidence of it. It intended, from the vantage of his assailants, that the flow had replaced his distance yet now not his perspective, which used to be tougher to right for. That was once one other piece of data: he must utilize it if he desired to live to tell the tale one other minute. Now he made his method round aspects of the tennis courts, that have been trigger with mesh fencing. prior to him used to be an octagonal gazebo, made from pressure-treated lumber decked out to appear rustic and outdated. It used to be a chance, yet a possibility to boot: if he have been a sniper, he may expect that his topic could search transitority shelter there, and cluster his photographs in its path. He couldn't procedure it without delay. He ran at an attitude, veering clear of it altogether; then, whilst he was once a ways earlier it, he ran jaggedly, bobbing and weaving, to its shadow. He may stroll in the back of it for a piece, since it could function a barrier among him and the tree stand the place the staff of marksmen used to be dependent. An explosion of turf, a backyard from his left foot. very unlikely! No, it was once all too attainable. He have been to blame of wishful thinking—assuming that the snipers had constrained themselves to the tall bushes in the back of the boating lake. It made experience that they might station themselves there; specialist snipers loved to maintain the solar to their backs, in part for viewing reasons, yet much more to avoid a visual glare from flashing off their scopes. The spray of dust steered that the bullet had arrived from an identical approximate course because the others. but the tall gazebo might have shielded him from a tree-mounted marksman. He surveyed the horizon with a sinking feeling. Farther away, a lot farther away: the metal lattice of a twenty- or thirty-story crane, from a development website on Rossmore highway. Distance: approximately three-quarters of a mile. Christ! was once it attainable? The sight line used to be direct: with right optics and ideal zeroing, it might be attainable, simply, for a top-of-the-league marksman. He scurried again to the gazebo yet knew that it used to be just a very transitority position of shelter. Now a complete crew might comprehend his distinctive place. The extra time he spent there, the higher coordinated and more desirable the sniper hearth will be as soon as he attempted to go away. they can wait him out. now not that they had to. they'd be capable to radio backup—summon a stroller, as pedestrian adjuvants have been recognized within the alternate. A stroller in a tweed jacket with a normal silenced pistol will be capable of decide him off, hide the weapon, and resume his stroll, with no one alerted. No, the seeming protection of his place used to be spurious. each second elevated the dangers he could face. each second made get away much less most probably. imagine! He needed to act. whatever like annoyance used to be welling up in him: he used to be uninterested in getting used for goal perform, dammit!

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