eyes. ‘But I do think that your belief I had anything to do with this is hilarious. I insist that you call the British Embassy in Washington and notify them that I am being held, without charge.’
‘Now you’re giving me orders?’ Donoghue folded his arms in an attempt to curb his irritation. ‘OK, we’ll do as you say and call them, like you were a US citizen with constitutional rights.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Who do you really work for?’
‘Ask for Simon Hunter; he’s the Commercial Attaché. I met him on a trade mission last year. He’ll vouch for me.’
‘I’m sure he will.’ A thin smile appeared on Donoghue’s lips. ‘You see, I looked at your tracker data twice, in fact, after it was brought to my attention that you were near Piper’s place and that you did stop. But then I realised that you couldn’t be the shooter, as you were stationary for less than a minute.’
‘I see.’ Tate was annoyed; Donoghue had been fishing and now knew about Simon Hunter.
‘And then, of course, your tracker had the SUV outside a pizza parlour thirty miles away at the time of the first shooting.’
‘First shooting?’ Tate said, surprised.
Donoghue ignored the interruption. ‘We contacted the restaurant and sent them your mugshot. They confirmed you were there eating the entire time the tracker shows the Tahoe as stationary.’
‘That’s because I was.’ Tate was terse. ‘How many shootings have there been?’
‘Two. One yesterday and one today with the same MO – a single .338-calibre round. You see, whilst you were cooling your jets in my holding cell we got the second round identified. It’s a confirmed match to the first. Not a .50 cal, as you said, but a .338, and still big enough to all but split the victims in two.’ Donoghue shook his head. ‘No one ever gets shot in Maine, but now we’ve got a maniac on the loose with a Magnum calibre rifle.’
Tate nodded. He’d made a mistake. ‘Of course.’
‘Of course what?’
‘Of course it was a .338. I wasn’t thinking earlier.’
The police chief folded his arms across his large chest. ‘OK, I’ll bite. Go on.’
‘Two shootings, in two days with the same rifle, so unless this was some type of “tag team” operation, it’s reasonable to assume both were carried out by the same shooter. Correct?’
The police chief nodded.
‘And the targets were in urban environments?’
‘Well, as urban as small-town Maine gets. The men were at home, in their gardens, nice green places. What’s your point?’
‘The shooter may have been able to conceal himself, and subdue the sound of the kill shot, but how did he hide his rifle?’
‘You mean as he moved to and from where he took the shot?’
‘Yes.’
‘He carried it in a bag?’
‘But how big was the bag? Rifles aren’t known as “longs” in the British Army for nothing. A guy carrying a bag as long as a pool cue would be noticed.’
‘Simple. He disassembled it.’
Tate closed his eyes for a moment, thinking, visualising and then carried on, ‘But, as far as I know, there are only two types of precision rifles that can be broken down in the field quickly and reassembled. One is used by the US Army and another by about a dozen different international police units.’
‘So that narrows down the weapon used and where it came from? But, Tate, there has to be millions of the one used by the US Army floating around.’
‘It wasn’t that one.’
‘Why not?’
‘The Remington MSR has a barrel that can be removed to change the weapon’s calibre, not for concealment. And the accuracy of the Remington isn’t what I’d call that of a precision rifle because the barrel can be changed. Things get misaligned – the scope, the barrel and the action.’
‘I get it. It’s the other one and this helps me because it’s what, rarer?’
‘Especially in .338 calibre. Very rare. You’re looking for a shooter using a German sniper rifle, a Blaser R93 LRS2. It’s the LRS2 variant that uses the .338 Lapua Magnum rounds. The same as you analysed. Big holes, without the weight of a .50 cal, they were designed for the war in Afghanistan. And then getting a suppressor for this, which I imagine is not sold commercially in the US, is extremely hard.’
‘And what if you’re wrong again, Mr Tate?’
‘I never make two mistakes on the same day.’
‘OK.’ Donoghue flipped open his laptop and pressed a few keys with his large fingers. ‘Tell me the name of that rifle again?’
‘A Blaser R93 LRS2.’
‘I’m going to look it up as I’ve never seen one.’
A question formed in Tate’s head as the police chief checked his Google results. ‘Are there any links between the victims?’
Donoghue didn’t look up. ‘Not that we know of. The first was a banker by the name of Darren Sant; the second was Senator Piper.’
‘And these shootings happened in the Camden area?’
‘The first in Rockport – just down from us – and then today’s was in Camden.’ Donoghue’s expression changed. ‘Now that’s interesting.’
‘You’ve found something?’
Stabbing his screen with his index finger, Donoghue spoke. ‘On Wikiwand I’ve found a list of “users” of this rifle. And the nearest to us here is the New Jersey State Police. I’m going to call them and pick their brains.’ Donoghue finally looked up. He cleared his throat. ‘Look, Mr Tate, I feel I owe you an apology.’
‘I see.’ Tate smiled thinly.
Donoghue continued, ‘If a thing is too good to be true then it usually is, and hauling you in for this was just that. The FBI and the national news crews are going to be swarming all over me come lunchtime tomorrow. You are free to go, and your rental car has been brought around the front of the lot.’
‘Good.’ Tate stood.
The police chief extended his hand. ‘No hard feelings? You were speeding, after all.’
‘OK,’ Tate said with more enthusiasm than he felt. The man had ruined his day, but he was a man in uniform and he had a job to do.
‘Where are you planning on going now?’
‘I’ve got a reservation at the Elm Street Inn.’
