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The briefing lasted a little longer than usual； and just before noon he returned to his car； was driven out of the side entrance； and then down on to Pennsylvania Avenue itself。
The driver had to wait for a matter of two minutes for a break in the traffic； so the car moved quite slowly into the right…hand lane。
It was at this point that Mark Fish shifted his position； leaning towards the nearside window as though to get more light on the document he was studying。
Nobody either saw； or heard； the shot。 The window fragmented and Fish was thrown against the back of his seat； the top of his head exploding； hurling bloody debris against the leather and glass； three ‘Equalloy' bullets smashing into his head。
The Equalloy round； made in the United KIngdom； is now an almost redundant type of ammunition； but it is still available； a fourth generation Accelerated Energy Transfer （AET） round； the Equalloy is designed to fragment on hitting its target。 It also has all the necessary non…shoot…through requirements of presentday special forces； thereby minimizing the risk of killing bystanders。 On its initial tests； the Equalloy penetrated only 2。5 inches of Swedish soap the ammunition…designers' substitute for human tissue。
Later； the DC Police Department； aided by both the FBI and Secret Service； measured and calculated the trajectory of the bullets； thereby roughly approximating from where they had e。
Among the many bystanders was one tourist who had been taking photographs at the time。 One frame from his 35 mm camera yielded a small clue； for it showed an elderly man standing in almost the precise spot from which they had estimated the bullet had been fired。
He appeared to be a man in his late seventies or early eighties； dressed in jeans； an L。 L。 Bean checked shirt； and a blue； billed cap bearing the legend； ‘Toto； I don't think we're in Kansas any more。 The ‘Old Guy'； as the investigators called him； carried a thick walking cane with a duck's head brass handle。 At the moment the picture had been taken； he had the cane raised； pointing directly at Mark Fish's car。 Once this photograph had been enlarged and enhanced； there was little doubt that the ‘Old Guy' had been the assassin； and that his walking stick was； in reality； some kind of deadly weapon。
And nobody could account for the reason Mark Fish had rolled down his rear window； thereby making the assassin's job a thousand times easier。
Only a couple of international newspapers picked up on the fact that three high…profile figures； and one very senior intelligence officer； had been murdered in as many days； and in as many countries； but no link was officially made by any of the law…enforcement organizations involved。
Yet the truth was that； in less than one week； four prominent victims had died in various ruthless； brutal acts of violence。 Though nobody linked the deaths； one thing was certain： each of them had been a target； each had been stalked； sought out and killed with some care and preparation； and； while the specialists in terrorism had named possible groups as the perpetrators of these killings； no organization had e forward to claim responsibility an oddity that was the one constant in the four deaths； for terrorist groups are rarely slow in claiming success after a carefully planned operation。
On the Friday of the same week； another killing took place。 This time it happened in Switzerland； and the victim could not by any stretch of the imagination be called high profile。 In fact； she was just the opposite； and it was this fifth death which brought James Bond into the picture。
CHAPTER TWO
GAZING DOWN AT THE JUNGFRAU
She left her hotel in Interlaken at around ten…thirty in the morning。 Switzerland's Bernese Oberland always had a calming effect on her； and Laura March needed peace and quiet more than ever before。
As a child； her parents had often brought her to this part of Switzerland and she remembered her father telling her； years ago； how therapeutic it was simply to sit and look at the mountains。 She desperately needed to think； allow the pain to subside； and reassess her life。
It had rained on and off all the previous day； but this morning the sky was cloudless； the deep and perfect blue seen only at high altitudes。 The mountains； with their constant caps of snow； were clear and sharp against the skyline and； in the distance； she could just see the great curve of rock which looked like the breast of a young woman the reason they called that particular mountain the Jungfrau。
At the Interlaken West station； Laura boarded the train to Grindelwald。 She was always amazed that so little had changed here since her childhood。
Even her travelling panions seemed familiar to her： a group of chattering young people on a day trip； led by a solemn； plump woman； bossy and arrogant； there was an unsmiling young man； wearing stout walking boots； his rucksack on the luggage rack； face buried in some guide book； out for a day or two of serious walking； a middle…aged couple； healthy and red faced； dressed in jeans and sweaters； and a dozen other people； all remembered from the long…ago days when she had gazed in wonder from the rattling train window； clutching her father's hand。
Everything was familiar； from the long slanted roofs of the chalets； to the splash of colour in window boxes； and the smell。 All countries； she thought； had a particular scent to them； retained in the memory of visitors； and immediately recognizable on return。 Her father had often said that he remembered the smell of Switzerland； rather than the views； and she had known what he meant。 Her mother used to say it was the smell of money； but that was a family joke。 The scent of Switzerland was a kind of cleanliness found in so few places these days。
At Grindelwald； she walked slowly up through the village； dodging other tourists； strolling along the crowded high pavements； pausing to look into the shop windows： picture postcards； seeds of mountain flowers； patches to sew on to jeans； little metal tags to attach to walking sticks； and mountains of food； the stores presided over by serious…looking men and women。 For the Swiss； all business is serious； and Grindelwald is； rightly； a prosperous place； sitting as it does on the edge of the Glacier Gorge。 For decades it has been a playground； in winter and summer； for climbers； sightseers； and long…distance skiers alike。
It was after eleven…thirty when she reached the chair lift； paying her few francs and swinging into the chair to be levitated almost noiselessly upwards； above the bright lush green grass of the foothills； the flash of a trickling stream below as the cable swung her； rising up the long slope。
She disembarked at the look…out point they called First； that boasted only a large log cabin in which delicious food was served crowded at this time of day； but the perfect place to sit and eat an omelette； fried potatoes and crisp bread； washed down with a glass of Apfrisaft。
When she had eaten； Laura walked a little way up the slope and sat on the soft grass； looking out towards the Mittaghorn range； the dark brooding slopes of the Schwarz Monch； the toy houses of Grindelwa