Escorted by D and another trustworthy agent, Johnson was brought in an unmarked car through the back door of the courthouse.
Joe drove Cindy to work at 8am telling her that he would wait for her in the side parking lot at 10am, in time for her coffee break. The previous night he convinced her to bring today's schedule to see in which room they could sneak. In reality he checked Johnson's appearance. It was still scheduled for 11am in room 2B. Adjacent to it, was a judge's chamber remaining unoccupied all morning. It was the perfect place.
She sneaked him in as a repairman. He had a phoney moustache and was wearing a baseball cap with a logo, matching the one of the electrical company displayed at the back of his overall. The hallway lining up with FBI agents reassured Joe. He was at the right place, at the right time. In the confusion that would follow, he would escape.
If anyone asked, she was taking him to the judge's chamber to check on the noisy air conditioning unit. He followed her dutifully with his repair kit. Once inside, he didn't lock the door, making it riskier and more thrilling in her eyes. He quickly discarded his overall and cap in a corner along with his false moustache. She gasped in admiration. He was very appealing in a suit and tie.
"I am the judge, Cindy, and you are my secretary on her ten-minute break. Come here, cookie," he begged as he sat on the big chair.
That ten minutes was everything she fantasized, and she left the chamber all flustered and content. He locked behind her.
"The sheila is out of the way," said Bobby through his earpiece. "From her expression, it looks like the guy is good at something."
"Bobby," scolded his wife. Tara was sitting in a communication van outside with another agent.
"When should I expect D and the scoundrel?"
"At least twenty minutes, they are delayed," said Tara, but Bobby didn't like the sound of that. "According to the blue print, the chamber has only two exits, the one in the hallway in front of you or directly into courtroom 2B."
"How about windows?
"Doesn't open, but we have a guy on the ground covering it anyway."
Myles was in the courtroom with two more agents, ready to intervene.
In the chamber, Joe was re-assembling his gun. The pieces were hidden in his repair kit. He would miss Cindy, she was fun. He hoped she didn't become a liability, he would hate to have to eliminate her. Not that it would stop him, though. Business always came before pleasure.
Joe could hear commotion in the courtroom. He looked at his watch, 10:58am. They were getting ready for Johnson. The hammer pounding loudly warned Joe of the beginning of the procedures. He slightly opened the door leading to the courtroom. The sound travelled loud and clear. The prosecution was calling on agent Riley Johnson. Joe knew the agent would be coming through the door, walked along the aisle between the rows of benches, the little gate would squeak as it swung to let Johnson reach the witness stand.
The squeaking would be his signal. Johnson would be standing right in his line of fire, his bodyguards behind him, no one in front to block Joe's aim. Joe heard the ear-piercing sound. Pushing the door in a sudden movement, he took aim on the mole and fired four shots before closing the door and locking it. During those few seconds, he never had a chance to see the defeated look on Sam Carter's face.
He hid his gun inside his jacket and crossed the chamber, exiting through the hallway, where he was stopped dead in his track by a human barricade. Half a dozen guns were pointed at him.
"FBI, hands over your head," yelled a tall agent with an accent to which Joe slowly complied. "You are under arrest, Mr Kramer for the attempted murder of a federal agent."
