The Becket Approval Falconer Duncan (ebook reader .txt) 📖

carrying a long canvas bundle. The driver unwrapped it to reveal a sniper rifle.

Kostag took a hold of it, raising it into his shoulder to look through the scope. ‘You know this weapon?’ he asked. ‘We’re pretty sure the killer used one just like this.’

‘Dragunov,’ Gunnymede replied. ‘Basic, but gets the job done in the right hands.’ He gauged the distance to the wood. ‘Were there any head shots?’ he asked.

‘Four out of twelve,’ Kostag said. ‘Armour piercing. Their body armour was of no use.’

‘Eight hundred metres would be respectable with a Drag on a good day,’ Gunnymede said, estimating the distance.

‘It was a good day,’ Kostag said. ‘The firing point was much higher. One thousand two hundred and fifty two metres to this edge. Twelve bullets. Twelve kills. More than a respectable shot, wouldn’t you say?’

Gunnymede had to agree. He held the Dragunov out to Bethan who was taken by surprise and had to make a concerted effort not to drop it, holding it like a large fish.

‘Are you okay to walk up there?’ Kostag asked Bethan, seeing she was wearing a sturdy pair of trainers.

‘Lead on,’ she said with confidence.

‘Shall I take that for you?’ Kostag asked and she handed him the rifle and he handed it back to his driver. Kostag secured his satchel over his shoulder and led the way down the slope.

‘Are you a sniper?’ she asked Gunnymede as they set off behind him.

‘No,’ he replied.

‘But you obviously understand the business.’

‘I’ve worked with guys who are snipers and picked up a thing here and there. Sniping is a speciality. It takes natural talent as well as training. A headshot at twelve fifty with a Drag is very good I’d say.’

‘What makes a good sniper?’ she asked. ‘Apart from training and natural ability?’

‘Lots of practice.’

She found the comment interesting.

They crossed the ravine and headed up the other side. It was steep and lumpy with Bethan the most walking fit of the three. Kostag wasn’t fit at all and was clearly feeling the strain as his breathing became severely laboured.

A policeman stepped from the trees as Kostag approached. He’d obviously been dozing as he brushed the dust off his backside and smartened himself up.

They entered the wood which was not as dense as it appeared from the clearing. Another fifty metre climb and Kostag stopped to rest, his hands pressing heavily on his knees. Sweat trickled down his face and off the end of his nose. A police tape connecting a line of trees was a few metres beyond. Gunnymede and Bethan waited politely. The Albanian didn’t take long and soon pressed on, ducking under the tape.

Another thirty metres and they came to a double line of tape. Kostag stepped under them and stopped again, taking a moment to dab his face with his shirt sleeve. He pointed to a patch of scorched foliage blackened by fire. ‘You call this a hide in English, right?’ he said, inhaling and exhaling audibly between each couple of words.

Gunnymede moved to get a better look. The side of the slope had been scraped away to form a level area long enough for a person to lie on. The ground and immediate foliage was heavily charred.

‘This is how we found it,’ Kostag said. ‘The officer who was first on the scene was smart enough to make sure the area was not trampled.’

Kostag indicated another police tape that traversed the slope. ‘It looks like the shooter came and went along this way.’

Gunnymede plucked a blackened blade of grass and inspected it. There was a deposit of white powdery substance where the charcoal ended. ‘Phosphorous,’ he said.

Kostag nodded. ‘He used a phosphorous grenade to destroy everything. No evidence. No DNA. All burned.’ Opening his satchel, he removed a plastic evidence bag with a charred metallic object inside and handed it to Gunnymede. It was the burned out phosphorous grenade.

Gunnymede scrutinised what remained of the factory markings. They were obvious enough.

‘British army issue,’ Kostag said. He produced another evidence bag. Inside was a small plastic container twisted by heat.

Bethan examined it. After a moment she shook her head, unable to identify it.

‘Our forensics laboratory said it’s a combination of ground turmeric, cumin, cardamom seeds and chilli powder,’ Kostag said.

‘Curry powder,’ Bethan said.

‘Yes. Based on the deterioration of the foliage we estimate he was here for five days.’

Gunnymede looked towards the clearing the other side of the ravine, assessing the sniper’s point of view, the officers and vehicles quite visible.

‘In that time, three different patrols occupied that clearing,’ Kostag said. ‘Each patrol spent between eight and twelve hours in position.’

‘You said K-17 was in position for less than an hour when the first officer was shot,’ Bethan said.

‘Yes. The sniper was specific about who he wanted to kill. K-17 was his target. All of them.’

Gunnymede moved around the back of the hide and looked beyond it, further up the slope. ‘What was his route out?’ he asked.

‘That’s not clear,’ Kostag said. ‘We traversed in both directions but found nothing. I assumed he made his way to the road at some point. Perhaps he went directly to the border and crossed into Macedonia.’

‘What about directly uphill?’ Gunnymede asked.

Kostag looked up the steep slope. ‘Why would he go that way? It’s just a more difficult route out.’

Gunnymede moved in that direction. Kostag joined him. There was a barely discernible path through the foliage. Blades of grass were disturbed in one direction, away from the hide.

‘Any of your people go that way?’ Gunnymede asked.

‘I don’t think so.’ Kostag moved uphill to get a closer look. ‘It could have been an animal.’

Gunnymede indicated a twig at shoulder height that had been broken and bending away from the hide. ‘How tall are the deer around here?’

Kostag