The Assassin's Gift

by C. P. IRVINE, IAN

  "Not now..." Salvador whispered again, more quietly. Then it was gone, and he was in control again.

  Just after Salvador's third breath, Tommy McNunn managed to find a little extra leeway, probably rising onto his tip-toes on the chair beneath. For a moment, his head rose higher and mostly out of view, and Alessandra worried that she might just have lost the shot.

  But then, for the briefest moment, before he attempted to push forward back out into the window frame, he lowered his head slightly and angled it back into his cell.

  "Allllmmooostt...." Salvador whispered under his breath.

  Whereas before Salvador could not see McNunn's forehead, now he could, and it was angled away from him, such that from the limited view of his head that he now had, the path of a bullet could enter just in the corner of McNunn's eye nearest his nose, traverse through the front of his lower brain, and then exit the other side of his skull toward the top.

  Salvador's instinctive timing could not have been better.

  In the respiratory pause at the end of his third and latest down breath, he gently squeezed the trigger.

  As his finger followed through to the rear of the action before slowly releasing the trigger, just over a mile away the far side of Tommy McNunn's skull burst open and released its contents all over the inside of his prison cell.

  Whatever his last thoughts were, no one would ever be able to tell.

  But from what was now left clinging to the walls and dripping to the floor, they appeared to be rather grey.

  It had been an impossible shot, under difficult conditions.

  Yet, once again, Salvador had left his mark.

  Salvador never really got involved with 'his' targets, or had any emotions once they were dispatched.

  But for some strange reason, Salvador had an inkling that the world was now going to be a much better place without McNunn.

  Having just killed him, Salvador was not sorry at all.

  Chapter 25

  In the forest.

  Bannockburn Hill

  Stirling

  Scotland

  Monday

  5.47 a.m.

  Salvador stretched his neck and fingers, then pressed the black button on the drone handset. Checking briefly to see that the drone had responded and was now winging its way back towards him, Salvador immediately went into clean-up mode.

  The sun was now up. The forest could soon be full of early risers, out walking their dogs before work.

  The dogs would smell Salvador and come sniffing after him. Curious. Playful.

  Salvador could be seen by the owners. At worst, made to make small talk with them, or even be remembered for his reluctance to strike up a civil conversation.

  At the very worst, he could be spotted carrying a rifle, or a drone. Possibly the same drone that may have been seen hovering outside a certain prison wall, at the time one of its inmates had just had his head blown off.

  First things first; Salvador cleaned the rifle with white spirit and then rubbed it down. Afterwards he quickly dismantled it. From the moment Salvador had left the car, he had worn thin plastic gloves. In everything he did, Salvador strove to ensure that no DNA samples were left on anything. Packing the rifle away into a fresh, clean canvas bag which he removed and unfolded from its plastic shop covering, he lay it on the ground and next got to work with the drone.

  Once he was convinced that the drone and its handset were also clean, he worked on the binoculars, the phone, everything and anything that he had with him.

  Everything, including the tarpaulin he had been lying on, then went into the bag, which was large enough to hold them all.

  Finally, - and all the time checking to ensure he was not being observed - Salvador went to work on the spot he had been lying on.

  As before in Loch Ness, he treated the ground, covering it with cow dung he'd collected from the hills and beside the loch near the hotel, and then sprayed it and his own shoes and soles with the noxious substance that was assured to keep dogs away from the area and from willingly ever tracing his footsteps.

  After picking the canvas bag up and grabbing the spade, Salvador rechecked the area, now sprinkled with acorns and fir needles collected in advance from the forest ground. Satisfied, he quickly moved away from the location, higher up the hill and deeper into the forest away from the public path.

  He soon came to a spot he had chosen and memorised on his last visit, and started to dig quickly with the spade, again carefully laying aside the turf, in squares, for replacing later on.

  He dug down deep, and swiftly, and then placed the canvas bag at its bottom.

  Within minutes the hole had been refilled, the turf replaced and sprayed.

  Salvador knew what he was doing. He was trained. Well practised. And one of the best.

  No sooner was he finished than he heard a dog barking.

  Dropping the spade on the ground, quickly he unfurled the spare dog leash he had in his pocket.

  If anyone saw Salvador now, he would just be another local walking a dog, one which had run off ahead, but which would soon return.

  Thankfully, a minute later, Salvador spotted the owner and the dog through the trees. They were passing by about a hundred metres away.

  Salvador squatted low behind a tree, until they had gone, then picking up the spade, hurried down the hill through the forest to the stream and the pool of water at its base.

  Throwing the spade into the middle of the pool, he edged around the pool on the far side away from the path, rejoined the public path and hurried quickly to where he had left the car.

  Before jumping into the car, Salvador removed his jacket and trousers and placed them into a plastic bag he pulled from the passenger seat, along with his boots and socks.

  Quickly pulling on the fresh pair of trousers from the back seat, and retrieving the pair of shoes underneath the passenger seat, Salvador completed the transformation from Salvador back to Alessandra.

  As Alessandra drove off, she didn't look back.

  Her mind was now occupied by two thoughts.

  First she needed to find a supermarket with a large clothes recycling bin where she could throw away the plastic bag without drawing any attention to herself.

  And secondly, she needed to figure out a way to make her fingers stop tingling.

  Now the mission was over, now Salvador was gone, it was becoming almost unbearable.

  What was happening to her? And why?

  --------------------

  The A84

  Doune

  Scotland

  6.45 a.m.

  Elspeth McGregor was stressed. Overnight, there had been a leak up at the castle, and it was her job to find a plumber. It was a bad leak. One of the main pipes above the entrance hall had burst and the main reception area was flooded. Water was still dripping down from the ceiling, and the reception was impassable. She'd switched off the water, but they couldn't open up without it. The toilets needed flushing, the tourists needed tea and coffee, and the floors needed to be cleaned and washed down.

  She was responsible for the day-to-day running of Doune's most famous tourist attraction and this was the busiest month of the year.

  To close the Castle at this time of year was unthinkable.

  Plus, several tour coaches would arrive in two hours’ time to disgorge the usual busloads of Japanese and American tourists.

  She'd already been up at the castle since she received the call at 5 a.m. but after trying, unsuccessfully to arrange a plumber, she'd had to drive home and get dressed and ready for the day ahead, feed her nine-year-old son, Callum, and get him ready for school.

  Thankfully, a plumber from Stirling had just called her and promised to meet her up at the castle.

  Her husband was away on business, trying to sell more Scottish beef to the Japanese. It was just her and her ageing mother at home with Callum.

  She'd take Callum with her, and either call a taxi later to take him to the school in Callander, or hopefully
find the time to slip away and deliver him herself.

  Things hadn't been going well for Elspeth recently. She and her husband had been going through a lot.

  This stress was the last thing she needed at this point in her life.

  She was driving down the A84 towards the bridge over the river Teith from her home on the outskirts of the town nearest Stirling.

  It was a bad bend, not easy at the best of times.

  And certainly not now, with Elspeth stressed out and her mind on other things, and Callum kicking off about being woken up so early.

  "So, why won't you ever trust me to catch the bus by myself into Callander? I'm nine years old now!" he shouted at her from the back seat.

  Raising his voice to his mother like that was probably the worst thing he could have done just then, and Elspeth snapped.

  Just as she was approaching the bend to their right which came immediately after crossing the bridge, she'd had enough.

  She swivelled in her seat to face her disrespectful son, and shouted at him, not noticing that she'd accidentally turned the wheel of the car slightly and turned it to the left.

  She'd taken this corner a thousand times before and Elspeth should have known better.

  The front left wheel hit the deep pot-hole at the edge of the road that everyone would otherwise always avoid. As the wheel lost its support and the surface of the road momentarily fell away from it, the wheel fell into the void, then banged violently against the far side.

  The left-hand side of the car came to an abrupt halt. The car was still in the process of turning the corner after the bridge, and now its momentum carried it onwards.

  With the front left side of the car now no longer going anywhere, the rear of the car lifted up off the ground and the car spun up and over, somersaulting down the embankment on the far side and coming to a crashing halt against a tree at the bottom.

  Stupidly, Elspeth had not been wearing her safety belt, something which her husband had always chided her for. In this instance it saved her life.

  As the car began to spin she was thrown clear and ended up on the grass by the side of the road, unconscious but alive.

  Callum, however, had always listened to his mother and father and was safely buckled up.

  Which meant that when the car landed upside down and smashed broadside into the thick tree trunks, there was little to protect him from the impact as the door buckled and caved inwards on him.

  Whether it was five, ten or even fifteen minutes before Elspeth started to come to, she didn't know, but when she did, the full horror of the disaster she had caused was quickly apparent to her.

  Standing up slowly, her head spinning, she moved as fast as she could to the car.

  "Callum!" she screamed. "Callum!"

  Looking into the upside down wreck of the car, she could see her son, blood pouring from his side, his face cut and bruised.

  "Callum!" she cried. "Callum!"

  --------------------

  The A84

  Approaching Doune

  Scotland

  6.57 a.m.

  Alessandra was getting distraught. She'd managed to find a large supermarket on the edge of Stirling as she drove around the city bypass, and to any observer there would have seemed nothing odd, had they been watching as she drove up to the large red metal container, pulled on the handle that swung open the tray onto which she slung the bag of clothes, and then pushed it back, depositing her clothes inside for someone in India or Africa to wear.

  With that simple action, the last possible physical connection between her and the crime that Salvador had committed was now severed. Gone.

  Alessandra was once more free to continue her life. Collect her pieces of silver, and spend them.

  However, thanks to the tingling feeling in her fingers, there was nothing to celebrate.

  She'd been suffering from the sensation for almost an hour now and it was only getting worse.

  As she drove, her fingers danced on the steering wheel, tapping it lightly, tapping it hard, running them as fast as possible up and down... She tried everything to rid herself of the nervous or electrical energy which seemed to be building up inside them and now reaching a crescendo, far worse than any of the other times she had experienced so far.

  She thought of when it started. Could it have been anything to do with killing McNunn? Had she somehow derived energy from his death? Or was it just the excitement.... Or ... Or... and this was the most bizarre thought of all... was she meant to drive to the prison, declare herself as a healer, and offer to 'heal' the man whose head she had quite literally just blown off?

  How exactly would that go?

  In general, Alessandra was not one for swearing. Normally she did not swear much. But in the past few days, she had certainly sworn a lot more.

  She found that swearing in English seemed to be more effective, somehow, as bizarre as that seemed, so now, whenever the occasion demanded it she was consciously making the effort to think of increasingly more powerful swear words.

  "Fuck!" she released just then, as her car approached an old stone bridge spanning a river.

  The sign told her the road was about to turn sharply to the right, so she slowed right down and observed the warning.

  However, immediately after the bend she almost hit a woman who was standing in the middle of the road and waving frantically at her.

  "Stop!" she shouted. "Please stop! My son is dying!"

  Swerving to avoid her whilst braking, she passed the lady and came to a rest on the side of the road just beyond her.

  Jumping out, she ran back to the woman who had run down the side of the embankment, to where an upside down car was pinned against the trees.

  Alessandra hurried down after her.

  Peering into the car, she quickly assessed the situation. She tried to pull open the door, but failed. She couldn't access the car from the other side because the car was wrapped around the trees and there was no way she could move it.

  "Please... save my boy! Please. Save him!" the woman was screaming and sobbing.

  Looking at her, Alessandra could immediately see she was in shock, and the blood running down the side of her own face indicated that she had been involved in the accident but had somehow come off lightly. For now. She could be suffering internal bleeding but that could only be determined later.

  For now, the focus would have to be the boy.

  Running back to the car, Alessandra opened her boot, lifted the cover which had previously hidden the spare tyre but now covered a few of the supplies she had decided to keep, and took out the metal lug wrench for changing the tyre.

  Returning to the car, she smashed the windows at the back with the metal wrench, taking care to break off any remaining sharp pieces of glass, then took her jacket off and draped it over the edge of the window, just in case.

  Climbing inside, she quickly examined the boy.

  He was in a bad way. His head was badly cut and his side was a mess. Some metal from the door had cut into him and he was bleeding profusely.

  If she didn't do something soon, he wouldn't survive for much longer. She had to get him out now.

  All the time she was assessing him, the tingling in her fingers had grown to a fever pitch which was threatening to prevent rational thought.

  At the same time, she was experiencing an overwhelming urge to help this boy. To get him down and out from his car seat, and out of the door window.

  Then to make it all go away.

  She had to save him!

  The boy was strapped in, but it looked like that by simply pressing the button, the strap may be set free. The problem was that if she did that, the boy could simply fall forward and if that happened, the metal from the broken passenger door which seemed to have embedded itself in him, could slice him open even more.

  To avoid this, she crept underneath him, and turned her back, reversing back up and manoeuvring into the upside-down seat in front of him.

  As she hit
the release button on the seat belt, she felt the sudden weight of his body on her back, and she pushed back up slightly. Confident that he was now resting on her back, she moved slightly to her side and away from the shattered door. At the same time, she used her left hand to feel around the boy's side, and located the broken shard of metal that was impaled within him.

  Carefully, slowly, she moved horizontally away from it, easing the ripped flesh with her hand so that it slipped over and away from the serrated metal edges.

  Thankfully, the metal had not gone much further than was visible, and she was able to remove him away and down from the crumpled door of the car without inflicting much more damage.

  Ignoring the screaming of his mother, and fighting with the urge to chew her own fingers off to make the bloody tingling stop, she gently lowered him down and positioned him near the upside-down window of the car.

  "Listen to me!" she shouted at the hysterical woman, clearly and authoritatively. "Your son is in danger. We need to get him out of the car. I am going to feed him out to you through the window. I need you to take his arms and shoulder and lift him up over the edges of the window as much as possible, but above all, pull him out. I will try to support him and help him out from my side. Do you understand me? If you want to save your son, you will do this now."

  The woman was kneeling on the ground beside the car, looking through the window. Her body was shaking now, but she had been listening and her crying had stopped.

  "Help you." She repeated. "Pull Callum out..."

  "Yes." Alessandra encouraged her. "Quickly now, and on the count of three..."

  Operating in such a small confined space was difficult, but somehow they managed to succeed in their plan.

  Through the combination of Alessandra lifting and pushing, and guiding the body through the hole, and the mother, who pulled from the other side, Callum soon made it out on to the grass on the other side.