Page 97 of Skotos

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No!

46

Thomas

Iran to the parapet and scanned the horizon. The other rooftops were close enough to see—and close enough to get a line of sight on the Pope’s balcony. One stood directly west of the basilica, another with an old green awning lay on the terrace below.

I squinted—

There was a man. Not the shooter. One of Lucio’s men.

He had binoculars and looked just as confused as I felt. He caught sight of me and shrugged across the rooftops. It was just a flick of the shoulders but confirmed what I feared.

They hadn’t found the shooter either.

My heart began to collapse in on itself.

Where are you, bastard?

Then something flashed on another rooftop.

Further off.

A shimmer of black shifted behind a chimney. Then a glint of sunlight off glass.

The unmistakable silhouette of a rifle being drawn up.

There!

But I had no radio.

No signal flare.

No time.

And no way to warn anyone.

I scanned the rooftops again, desperate, and—

There.

Will.

Across the plaza, one rooftop lower, facing away.

Will, look up. Goddamn it, look up!

I stepped to the parapet and waved my arms, shouting his name even though I knew he couldn’t hear me over the roaring crowd.

The shooter shifted, lining up the shot.

I waved harder.

Please see me. For the love of God, Will, see me!

47

Will

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