47
Peter
“Five minutes,” I whisper into my headpiece. “Get ready.”
It’s been exactly twenty minutes since the lights appeared on the second floor of Arslan’s mansion. That means our target will walk out of his front door and get into his bulletproof car between five and ten minutes from now. As we’d hoped, he’s a creature of habit, his morning routine nearly the same every weekday morning. The time he leaves the house varies, as does the route he takes to work and where his bodyguards leave his car, but this—the time he spends at home, feeling safe and secure as he eats his breakfast—is entirely predictable.
In a few short minutes, there will be a small window when he’s out in the open with his bodyguards, and that’s when we’re going to strike.
“The RPG is loaded, and Ilya has the car
