The crosshairs rested into their place. Exactly 2 meters above the ground and 1.2 meters from the door. Second tile on the wall. That is where the head will be. He’ll be third in line, after two bodyguards and in front of a genete-match double. Of course, she’ll have to take both of them out to be sure. The doubles are perfect. She’ll have to get the second shot off fast or run the risk of knocking the wrong mark.

Tara slid the magazine into place in the butt of her rifle and settled in. She shut her eyes and focused on her heart-rate. She slowed it. Slowed her breathing. Relaxed her body. When her eyes opened again, she was still. Waiting. Ready.

The crosshairs never moved from the mark on the wall 2,467 meters away. They rested on that spot with a fierce, but detached intensity. Tara looked through the scope, blinking once every twelve seconds. Every 3 breaths.