John Gordon shivered against the cold New York night as he stared through the scope of his M40A3. He briefly wished he'd brought a thicker jacket, but he pushed the thought away. Thicker clothes made a more noticeable silhouette, especially when you were lying prone on a roof top. He sighed quietly and went back to setting up his shot. The target was a banker named Paul Norman. As far as John knew from his studying of the man, Paul wasn't married. John hadn't read the file. He never read the file any more, aside from just enough to make sure it wasn't political, other than that it didn't matter. Political jobs got a lot of attention. So did poorly prepared jobs. That was why John always spent weeks studying the target's habits, even for jobs like this where it was obviously homicide. John preferred subtle work; it was a better test of his abilities.
He didn't enjoy his work, but he was good at it, or so the people who mattered seemed to think. The people who mattered were the people wh