“Got it,” Nate said, his voice overamplified and crackling.

“You’re killing me,” Quinn said. “Turn down your gain.”

There was a pause, then Nate said, “Better?” His voice sounded almost normal.

“Yes. Thanks,” he said.

Two minutes later he came to a small open field. Though he was pretty sure the assassin in the tree wouldn’t be able to see him, he kept to the dark shadows at the edge of the clearing.

“He’s still in the tree,” Nate said. “But he’s moved back, closer to the trunk. Harder to see.”

He’s expecting company, Quinn thought. Waiting to see if his victims have backup anywhere close by.

“I still don’t see signs of anyone else. I think he might be working alone.”

Quinn wasn’t ready to concede that possibility yet. He’d seen too much in his years in the business, seen too many people who had been killed because they underestimated their opponent. He removed the sound suppressor from his jacket and attached it to his weapon. Any shot Quinn took at this point wouldn’t be to scare the guy, it would be to hit him.

“I’ve got no movement from the men on the ground,” Nate said.

There wouldn’t be. They were all dead the second Quinn and Nate had seen the muzzle flashes on the screen. The assassin got the first three shots off before any of the men in the church could react. The range was not much more than thirty yards. So close it was almost cheating for a trained marksman. Kill shots, all of them. No question. The only reason there’d been a delay before the fourth man was killed was that the assassin hadn’t had a clean shot. So he’d waited a few seconds for the man to panic, and run for someplace new to hide, then bang. Four dead.

“Wait,” Nate said. “I think he’s climbing down.”

Quinn had reentered the trees on the far side of the pasture and was once again fighting the underbrush. He guessed he was about a minute away from the old church grounds. From this direction, he would reach the graveyard first.