Rising Tiger: A Thriller (42)

“I’ll give you a minute,” said Vijay, allowing Harvath to approach by himself in peace.

He had witnessed death in more forms than most people could imagine. Seeing a loved one, a friend, or a colleague killed was the worst. Not seeing it, but witnessing the scene shortly thereafter, was only slightly less disturbing.

Ritter was a very good man. He was also a very good American. Harvath could easily see himself in the same position—carrying out an important mission for your nation, only to have someone get the drop on you and take you out. As he liked to say, it was always better to be lucky than good. Because no matter how good you were, there was always someone better.

Parting the tape, Harvath stepped into the immediate crime scene area and looked around. He noted the position of where the body had fallen and then looked over his shoulder to hazard a guess as to where, specifically, the killer had been standing when he fired.

Even if Ritter had stumbled, he wouldn’t have traveled far. That kind of shot, delivered right behind the ear and into the brain, would have been like pulling his fuses all at the same time.

According to the report, the police had retrieved a 9mm shell casing. While this kind of job could have been done with a .22, it was a much smaller round and took a lot of skill to pull off successfully. Whoever had done this was leaving nothing to chance.

He spent twenty minutes taking it all in, studying the scene from every possible angle. When he stepped out from behind the tape, Vijay was waiting for him.

“Thoughts?” the man asked as Harvath approached.

“My first thought is that I don’t think it was a robbery.”

“Why not?”

“Look at the foot traffic,” said Harvath. “I’m assuming last night was as busy as it is right now.”

Vijay nodded. “I would agree.”

“Let’s back up for a minute and say that this was a robbery. The whole purpose of using a gun is to intimidate the victim into compliance. If I’m the robber, I want you to know I have one, but I don’t want anyone else to see it because I don’t want them to call the police.

“If I’m approaching you from the front, I’m going to keep it under my shirt or jacket until the very last moment. Then I’m going to give you just enough of a look at it to let you know I’m in charge, I mean business, and you’d better stop right where you are.

“To the contrary, if I’m coming up on you from behind and you’re walking, you can’t see anything. I have to put my hand on your shoulder or grab your collar to get you to stop, while also letting you know I have a gun. If I put the gun to your head, everyone is going to see it. It’s much better if I jam it into your lower back. That way, pretty much nobody is going to see it and my message is going to be delivered loud and clear.

“Nobody puts a gun behind someone’s ear in order to rob them. Too much can go wrong. They can move their head. They can spin and attempt to take the weapon away. Witnesses can see it and scream. This wasn’t a robbery. This was a hit job. A professional one. When a shooter places a gun behind someone’s ear it’s to kill them. Plain and simple.”

Again, Vijay said, “I agree. Witnesses, however, saw the shooter remove personal items from the body.”

Harvath had read the pertinent details in the file he’d been given. “His watch, wallet, and cash from his front trouser pocket, right?”

“And his sunglasses,” Vijay added.

“But not his cell phone.”

“Correct. Not his cell phone.”

“Why not?” Harvath asked, testing him.

“Cell phones can be tracked.”

“It takes two seconds to pop out a SIM card, which the killer could have done once he had safely made his getaway.”

“Even without the SIM, they can still be tracked,” said Vijay.

“Exactly,” Harvath replied. “I know that and you know that, but does the average criminal?”

“Perhaps yes. Perhaps no. What’s your point?”

“Ritter was carrying a high-end phone, which would have fetched more than a few rupees on the black market. The killer, however, was both smart enough and disciplined enough to leave it behind. That speaks to a high level of professionalism.”

“As does taking the wallet, watch, cash—and even the sunglasses,” Vijay stated, fully on board now. “Because it gives police a nice, tidy motive. Robbery.”

Harvath nodded.

“Okay, so if the motive wasn’t robbery, which I agree with you it looks like it wasn’t, then we’re left with this being a murder.”

“Correct.”

“A murder over what? Why would someone want to kill Ritter?”

“Like I said, the killer is going to have a lot of our answers,” replied Harvath. “But first, we have to catch him. Let’s go speak to the shopkeeper.”





CHAPTER 26


The shopkeeper hadn’t noticed the shooter until he had raised his weapon and fired. Neither he nor his wife had any idea how long the helmeted figure had been there before pulling the trigger.

They both thought it was strange that on such a warm evening, the figure would be wearing a full helmet with a face shield—even stranger that the visor was tinted.

The method the assassin had used to disguise himself was of less interest to Harvath than the other details the couple had seen.