Chapter 83
83
The second mission did not go as planned.
I flew into Milan at 12:20 PM. Milan Malpensa Airport was the biggest in Northern Italy and had a large short-term parking deck. I went to the top level and found the dark blue Fiat 500X mini-SUV with the license plate listed in the dossier.
As promised, the keys were sitting on top of the left front tire. The engine was still hot despite the cold day, so the car likely had just been parked a few minutes before.
Rather than inspect the guns where witnesses could see, I got behind the wheel. The parking lot ticket was sitting on the dash, and it was just as I had thought: the car had only entered the garage 10 minutes ago.
I drove to the exit and paid the three-euro fee. Then I drove for ten minutes until I hit a stretch of forested highway. I pulled onto the grassy side of the road, got out, and went to the hatchback to check on the guns.
They were hidden in the back, in the spare tire well. They were the same as last time: a.300 Win Mag with a suppressor and scope, and a suppressed Glock 22. The only difference from the ones in Norway was that these were standard black. The others had been white to camouflage them against the snow.
I only looked at the guns in their hiding place; I certainly didn’t remove them so passing motorists could see. I would drive to an isolated area and double-check the guns’ accuracy later.
Once I was satisfied everything was there, I replaced the panel, closed the rear door, got back behind the wheel, and set off for Lake Como using Google Maps to guide me.
Van der Linden had his estate on the eastern side of Lake Como, near a town called Lezzeno. I would be staying on the western side of the lake near the town of Sala Comacina, about an hour from the airport.
As I drove, I pondered the difficult job ahead of me. Though my rental house was almost directly across the lake from van der Linden’s estate, the distance across the water was a full mile.
I was a good sniper, but not that good. 1609 meters… 1760 yards… 5280 feet. No matter how you measured it, a mile was a long fucking way.
The longest confirmed sniper kill was a 3079-yard shot by an Australian sniper in Afghanistan in 2012. But even at 1700 yards, we were talking about the 11th longest confirmed kill in the last 100 years. An American sniper had done it in Iraq back in 2004.
There was no way I was that good. Not ‘Top 20 in Recorded Military History’ good.
Which meant I was going to have to get in closer… and that meant even more difficulties.
You might be thinking, Just take a boat out on the lake and shoot from there – but the lapping waves make it nigh impossible. A tiny shift of just a centimeter could make a shot go wide by several feet.
The only way it would work was if the surface of Lake Como was as smooth as glass – and I didn’t anticipate that happening.
The next option was infiltrating van der Linden’s estate and taking the shot from land. The problem there was that the property extended for a thousand feet on either side of the villa. I could get within 350 yards of the house – an excellent distance – but there were state-of-the-art surveillance systems all along the perimeter. His security team would see me coming, so I would have to stay 500 yards back to remain hidden. And at that distance, you had to factor in the foliage between me and the target – the uphill slant – the wind coming in off the lake –
It was a logistical nightmare.
I could potentially find a position in the hills on the other side of van der Linden’s property, farther from the water – but then my window of opportunity would be limited to him walking in or out of his front door. Unless he liked to hang out in his front yard, which I figured was unlikely.
I was still pondering the intricacies of the job as I left Rovenna, the town at the southernmost tip of Lake Como, and started driving up the two-lane road that led to my rented chateau.
Shortly after that, everything went to shit.
As I drove, I pulled the necklace and engagement ring out of my shirt and rubbed it absentmindedly between my forefinger and thumb like a rosary.
I decided I would find a way to contact Rachel when I got to the house – either by buying a burner phone at a store or finding a pay phone. Fuck Alistair. He could chew me out as much as he liked, but I wanted to talk to her. I couldn’t leave things like they were yesterday.
It was a beautiful day. The sky was clear, the sun was shining bright, and there is no better scenery for a drive than along Lake Como. The sparkling water… the charming Italian towns along the shores of the lake… the beautiful mountains with their old-growth forests… the entire place was enchanting.
Even if I’d been paying attention, I don’t think I could have avoided my fate.
I went through a long tunnel carved through the granite mountains that surrounded the lake. When I emerged on the other side into daylight, I immediately saw a line of four cars stopped ahead of me –
At a police barricade.
My heart stopped.
My immediate impulse was to turn around, but the two-lane road was so narrow that I couldn’t do it in one single motion. It would require me to turn, back up, turn again, back up – which would put me in the path of oncoming traffic and would surely draw the attention of the police.
I reminded myself that It’s fine… no one knows who you are… you’re just a tourist on vacation… stay calm.
I slowed to a stop behind the last car and waited.
Fear gnawed at my gut, but I did my best to keep my outward appearance calm.
I slipped the ring and necklace inside my shirt without consciously thinking about it.
The Glock was in the rear with the rifle. There was no way I could get it out before I reached the police – not without being noticed, anyway.
I grabbed my passport, license, and the car’s registration out of the glove box. I saw that the car was registered to a rental company, and there was a receipt for when I had ‘rented’ it two hours before.
Everything was in order.
You’re going to be fine.
One car drove past the blockade, and everyone else in line crept forward.
A car in the opposite lane drove past me into the tunnel.
The second car ahead of me went, and I inched forward a bit more.
I analyzed the situation. There were two police cruisers, one on either side of the road, and two officers – one checking the traffic coming to Lake Como, the other checking the cars heading back towards Milan.
The third car was let through, and I moved up some more.
One vehicle left before I reached the cops.
The policemen were about my age. They seemed to be bored as they talked to the drivers. They weren’t paying much attention.
The cop on my side of the road waved the last car through, and I rolled down the window as I pulled up next to him.
“Hello,” I said in English as I held out my passport.
He narrowed his eyes as he said, “Metti la macchina nel parcheggio p>
I had no idea what he was saying.
“Um… parla inglese?” I asked, trying to ask if he spoke English. I had probably butchered the phrase horribly.
“No,” he snapped and pointed at the steering wheel. “Parcheggia la macchina – PARCHEGGIA LA MACHINA – ”
I finally realized what he meant and put the car into park.
“Scusi,” I said.
“I tuoi documenti,” he said as he held out his hand.
‘Documenti’ was easy enough: documents.
I handed him my passport, license, and registration.
He only took the passport and flipped it open. His eyes suddenly widened, then flitted up to my face and back down to the picture.
Shit.
I knew a look of suspicion when I saw it.
His right hand flew to his holster, and he pulled his pistol and pointed it at my face.
“Spegni il motore e scendi dall’auto p>
SHIT –
He was too far away for me to grab the gun. And if I moved too quickly, I might startle him and get shot in the head.
My mind raced.
Did someone double-cross me p>
Did van der Linden get tipped off I was coming p>
“SPEGNI IL MOTORE E SCENDI DALL’AUTO!” the cop roared.
Auto – the car – he wants me to get out of the car?
The second cop on the far side of the road looked at us in alarm, then pulled his gun and ran over.
I put my hands up slowly in the air as I said, “I don’t know what you’re saying – ”
“OUT!” he screamed in heavily accented English. “OUT p>
I slowly reached for the car door handle and opened it even slower, careful not to spook him.
He backed up three feet as I did so.
I might have been able to lunge at him and grab his gun, but not before the other cop shot me.
And even if I somehow disarmed them both, I would have two witnesses – unless I killed them.
And I wasn’t going to kill a cop.
Not to mention the motorists behind me – more witnesses.
And I would be on the run in a foreign country where I didn’t speak the language –
“Mettiti a terra con le mani in testa!” the cop screamed.
Terra –
Earth?
“DOWN!” the second cop yelled.
Ah – get on the ground…
I slowly got to my knees and lay on the asphalt with my face turned to the side.
While the second cop covered me with his gun, the first cop came over, savagely yanked my hands behind my back, and cuffed me.
Shit.
I had no idea what the fuck was happening –
But I knew my only chance at getting out of this was if they didn’t search the Fiat.
They searched the Fiat.
And they found the guns.
Five minutes later, I was in the backseat of one of the cruisers as it raced through the tunnel back towards Milan.
My heart sank in my chest as I realized I wasn’t going to make it back to Rachel.
Not in the next three weeks…
And maybe not for a lot longer than that.