The Mark of the Assassin

beneath the
    hull; then the prow would slam down into the next trough, and seawater
    would crash into the seating compartments. Once Astrid lost her grip and
    fell forward onto the dash. She regained her footing and stood up, blood
    on her forehead. Delaroche could make out Cornelius Point off the port
    side: a rocky headland, the faint outline of a large summer cottage. He
    rounded the point and turned a few degrees to port. Off the starboard
    side he could see the lights of Greenport, blurry with sea fog and rain.
    A few moments later he passed Hay Beach Point. Delaroche turned to the
    southwest and ran along Hay Beach for about a quarter mile. Then he
    turned sharply to port and reduced power, running toward the shoreline.
    Cannon Point was about four hundred yards farther down. Delaroche knew
    he could approach the shoreline in virtual silence because the high
    winds would carry all sound in the opposite direction. He killed the
    engine and raised the propeller. A few seconds later the boat grounded
    itself on a shoal a few yards from the beach. Delaroche leaped into the
    icy knee-deep water and waded ashore. He pulled back the sleeve of his
    jacket and glanced at the luminous face of his watch. It was just two
    o'clock. The Whaler had made the journey from Sag Harbor in about ninety
    minutes, but as Delaroche tied the bowline to the limb of a fallen tree,
    he felt as though he had been behind the wheel fighting the sea for half
    the night. He waded back to the Whaler, collected the backpack, and
    helped Astrid over the side into the water. On the beach he unzipped the
    backpack, dug out the silenced Berettas, and gave one to her. The rain
    beat down on them as Delaroche took his bearings. The beach ran directly
    to Cannon Point. It was rocky and narrow, only a few feet wide in spots.
    Beyond the high-water mark rose a sheer bluff, about twenty feet high,
    tangled with brush and dune grass. Delaroche pulled the slider on the
    Beretta, chambering the first round. Astrid did the same. Then he took
    her by the hand and led her down the beach toward the house.
    MATT COOPER AND SCOTT JACOBS had both worked in CIA security for nearly
    twenty years. Their government sedan was parked just inside the main
    gate of the compound on Shore Road. They took turns walking the
    perimeter of the grounds every half hour. Matt Cooper handled the 2 A.M.
    round.
    DELAROCHE AND ASTRID LAY ON THE BLUFF overlooking the water, hidden
    behind the thick, thorny brush. Delaroche took in the layout of the
    compound: the large main house close to the water, two guest cottages, a
    separate three-car garage. Lights burned in the main house and in one of
    the cottages. Delaroche assumed that the Osbournes were in the main
    house and the security detail or a caretaker was in the cottage. He
    studied the layout of the grounds: a flat well-tended lawn dotted with
    tall trees, a gravel drive leading from the buildings to the front gate.
    Just inside the gate, Delaroche glimpsed the outline of a sedan. The
    security man appeared a few minutes later. He carried a powerful
    flashlight in his right hand and played it across the grounds as he
    walked. As the man approached their position, Delaroche took Astrid
    firmly by the upper arm and held a finger to his lips. She nodded. A
    shaft of light shone over their heads, then played across the bulkhead
    and the beach below. Delaroche stood suddenly, rattling brush. The beam
    of light played frantically for several seconds before it settled on
    him. His Beretta was drawn and leveled. Using the light as a target,
    Delaroche adjusted his aim to the right an inch or two in order to
    compensate for the fact that the security man held the light in his
    right hand. He fired rapidly three times. The security man collapsed
    onto the sodden turf.
    DELAROCHE CREPT FORWARD and knelt beside the fallen man. The shots had
    struck his chest. Delaroche reached down, felt the neck for a pulse, and
    found none. He gestured for Astrid to join him. They walked along the
    eastern edge of the property, keeping to the trees, until they were
    about thirty yards from the front gate and the security car. Delaroche
    could see the second man inside the car, sitting behind the wheel,
    rainwater streaming down the windows. Certainly the man could see very
    little.
    It would be an easy kill. The challenge would be killing him silently.
    He crossed the lawn passing behind the car, and approached from the rear
    passenger side.
    COOPER HAD