The Operator never paused in his stride as lowered the suppressed Glock 26 from a rock steady isosceles grip and…
…fired a third round into the back of the target’s head. There was no way the slim blond had survived three shots to the back of the head.
His foot swept her Glock away from her hand in a seemingly casual, yet deliberate movement as he stepped past her body.
The subway doors hissed open and the Operator never broke stride as he left the train car, his target and his two dead men behind.
His pistol was already back in its holster, even as the first screams tore the evening air.
He plucked off the clip on tie and dropped his suit jacket and tie into a convenient trash can as he moved calmly but inexorably towards the exit to the street above.
He plucked a fashionable fedora from his leather valise and settled it onto his head.
Halfway up the exit stairs, he removed a pair of thick framed glasses from his shirt pocket and settled them on his nose.
Slinging his valise across his shoulders as he stepped onto the street, he added a certain pep to his step,
mentally shedding the persona of the tired businessman and adopting the persona of a carefree hipster on his way to a local bar.
“How did she spot us that quickly?” The Operator thought as he walked down the street. “Clark was a bit young and green for this kind of work, but he was well trained and cool under pressure.
Greeves was a rock solid operator, practically invisible. Could there have been anything to that briefing? Could she have been able to…" No, that was ridiculous.
It was just good survival instincts on her part. Nothing more.