Deadly Harvest [antikvár]

August 2,1986 Los Angeles Karen Kessler walked out of the Women's Reproductive Clinic and looked into the barrel of a high-powered rifle. In the distance she saw something glittering in the dense shrubbery, but it lasted for only a moment and then it was gone. There were rolling hills surrounding the clinic, and Karen knew that they sometimes caused the sun's rays to reflect peculiarly. That was probably it. Or maybe her eyes were playing tricks. She shrugged her shoulders, unconcerned, and went to a nearby park bench. A middle-aged man dressed in camouflage clothing lay prone in the thick brush and followed the woman with the telescopic sight mounted on his weapon. Now she was sitting on the bench, crossing her legs and lighting a cigarette. He zeroed in on her sharp features and large, doelike eyes. She was in her mid-thirties, he estimated, forty at the most. Slowly he lowered the telescopic sight until the crosshairs were on the front of the woman's scrub suit. There was a large spot of perspiration between her breasts, circular, with a pale area in its center. A perfect target. His finger was on the trigger and he applied gentle pressure, imagining what would happen if he squeezed it at that moment. Her chest would explode, heart and aorta shredded, death almost instant.