Page 29 of The Final Vow (Washington Poe #7)

The chief superintendent was called Ailsa McCloud and, as Poe had thought, she wasn’t a local cop. She was based in Glasgow and was with the Specialist Crime Division, the unit that provided specialist investigative and intelligence functions.

‘Sorry about that crack before,’ she said. ‘It’s kind of expected. And it’ll help me integrate with the natives. Local intel will be key here, we want them onside.’

‘I used to work for a national unit, ma’am,’ Poe said. ‘I’m used to low-level resentment. Calling us in was seen as a sign of weakness by the troops on the ground.’

‘What do you think?’

‘I think you’ve found him.’

The range the gamekeeper had found was crude, but semi-permanent.

A square of laminated A4 paper was stapled to an old Scots pine.

Bullet holes formed a smiley face. The gamekeeper had ripped it off.

Underneath were many more bullet holes. The forensic guys who’d examined the tree counted over one hundred.

They dug out seven. They were .50 BMGs, the same ammunition the sniper was using.

The gamekeeper recognised a target when he saw one – although he hadn’t realised he’d found the needle in the haystack – and he worked backwards, looking for the firing position.

He found nine. Each one had a marker and a sandbag.

They started at 600 metres from the target and ended at 1,400, each one 100 metres from the next.

Poe didn’t have the exact figures to hand, but he knew all the victims had been within those shooting distances.

With the sniper’s range confirmed, McCloud had done what Poe would have done.

She put everything back as it had been, including the ripped target, and left it alone.

But not before her tech people had hidden a series of live-feed, military-grade trail cameras.

She now had eyes on the range and didn’t have to be anywhere near it.

The plan was to wait for the sniper to zero his weapon ahead of the next murder, then mob him with armed cops. Maybe even hope he resisted.

It was a good plan and Poe couldn’t see any way to improve it.

Although it was a good plan, Police Scotland were now in a hurry-up-and-wait, circling-the-airport scenario.

They had rushed to get everything in place, but now they were at the whim of the sniper.

Poe was sure he would return to his makeshift range, but he’d be working to his own timetable, and they weren’t privy to it.

He might turn up that night, it might be a month.

Poe explained the situation to Mathers. She only had one question: ‘Do they have it in hand?’

‘They do, ma’am,’ Poe replied. ‘I’ll hook you up with Chief Superintendent McCloud, but she’s an experienced cop.

She knows what she’s doing. I don’t think I’d add any value if I stayed.

’ He thought about her ‘Now that London have bothered to show up’ crack and added, ‘In fact, all I’d do is get on their pip. ’