Read Ure Infectus (Imperium Cicernus Book 4) for Free Online Page B

him.
    It was more than enough time.
    He reengaged the tension brake gradually over the next four
seconds. A half-second before the brake locked down, he pushed off from the
building with every scrap of power his aging legs could generate. His body
reached the apex of its short-lived flight just as the tension brake clamped
down, snapping his body back with such violence that if he had not been
properly prepared, he was quite certain he would have broken a handful of ribs
and likely lost a few teeth.
    But he tightened his body at the same moment the line
snagged, and the combination of forces caused him to swing back toward the
building with dangerous speed as he tucked his knees against his chest and
turned his body into a tight ball.
    If he missed by even a foot, he would not only break more
than just a few ribs but the security cameras would lock onto him. Some forty seven
seconds after that, the building’s security force would apprehend him at
gunpoint and he would be unable to complete the most important, complex
assignment of his decades-long career.
    He risked a glance toward his entry zone and winced as he
saw that he had slightly miscalculated his trajectory. As his rump entered the
open window, he tried desperately to twist his torso enough to avoid striking
his left arm against the window jamb, and thankfully he succeeded—rather, he partially succeeded. His arm struck the window
frame as the rest of his body sailed through the small opening, but his body’s
momentum continued on course in spite of the unwanted contact.
    Having drilled this precise entry hundreds of times using
physical, scaled models, Jericho had even practiced for the eventuality of a
less-than-perfect entry and was able to bring himself to a stop against the
flat’s kitchen door without breaking through it.
    He knew he had two seconds to remove the wire from its
perch, so in a fluid series of motions he unhooked the shackle from his harness
with one hand and, with the hand of his now-injured left arm, clicked the
remote spooling mechanism for the winch located on the roof of the building.
The shackle was whisked too quickly to see out of the kitchen window, and even
though he knew the math bore out that he had acted in time, he held his breath
for several extra seconds until he was convinced that no alarms had sounded
outside.
    Exhaling evenly and quietly, he switched his goggles from
base infrared to thermal imaging and looked around the kitchen. Everything was
cold save for the small, faint glow of heat coming from the food refrigerator’s
compressor.
    But Jericho had learned many years before to be cautious at
all times, so he pressed his ear against the kitchen door to listen for any
sounds on the other side. When he heard nothing, he opened the door and made
his way into the short hallway connecting the four rooms of the flat: kitchen,
main parlor, bedroom with adjoining toilet, and second bedroom which had been
converted into a small office.
    All thermal readings showed that no one had been inside the
flat for at least ten hours, which was consistent with his next contracted
target’s routine. Jericho then performed
a routine weapons sweep of the bedroom—a room with a robust security door made
to appear as a regular door—and found nothing of consequence.
    “I’m in,” he said sub-vocally, allowing the small, crude
patch he had stuck to his neck to transmit the sounds to his earpiece and, in
turn, to Baxter. He didn’t want to take the risk of the unit having been
bugged—either by Mr. Angelo or someone else—so he used the sub-vocal technique
to decrease the chance of detection.
    “Very good, sir,” Baxter replied blandly. “I am showing the
target has just reached the lobby.”
    “Good,” Jericho said as he moved to the main door of the
flat. The target would enter the room and be unable to see him until the door
had been closed, at which time it would be a small matter to execute him and
egress the premises.
    “He