Assassin b-2

by Murray Mcdonald

  Fifteen soldiers accompanied them and on landing, had fanned out to check for any immediate threats. With none noted, the all-clear was given for the students to disembark. The soldiers now stood on guard duty and would search any visitor who wished to visit the ruins while they were there. However, plans had been put in place to limit visitor numbers during the morning. All local buses and trains which ferried visitors to the site incurred technical problems meaning they would not arrive until after the students had left. Initially the operators of the local services had protested but were soon pacified by an offer of reimbursement which equated to a month’s worth of revenue.

  With guards surrounding the ruins and all visitors being searched thoroughly, the students were let loose on the site. Their only warning was not to fall off the mountain, it was 8,000 feet to sea level.

  The sniper watched as the first chopper landed and the soldiers thoroughly checked the site. They were very good he thought, nothing was missed. Just a shame they didn’t think to check just a kilometre away, on the side of the mountain where he was crouching but even if they had, his camouflage blended perfectly with his surroundings. Beside him lay a Walther WA2000 sniper rifle, one of only a few ever made. The cost of producing its level of accuracy was commercially unviable.

  He remained motionless as the other helicopters landed and dropped off their passengers. With his target’s face burnt into his memory, he used his binoculars and soon spotted the young man. Unfortunately, he was standing right next to the girl who was to remain unharmed at all cost. The power of his rifle, even from that distance, was such that he could not risk a shot while she remained so close.

  Tom and Lela wandered around the ruins accompanied by their very excited history teacher. They were given a ten-minute crash course on the history and the remarkable construction techniques used all those centuries ago.

  They then joined the rest of their class for a walkthrough of the whole site. Surprisingly, they were all enthralled by the tour and remained a close-knit group as they listened intently to their tour guide.

  The tour ended just as lunch was served and the group made its way to the lavish tables laid out in the sacred plaza.

  After lunch, the group were told they had thirty minutes of free time to wander as they pleased.

  The sniper was now beginning to worry that what had seemed an easy assignment was turning into a race against time. His target had never left the girl’s side and he was still waiting for a clear shot. As the lunch ended, he finally had his opportunity, his target broke off with a number of other boys, well away from the girl.

  He picked up his rifle and assumed his crouched sniping position. He nestled the butt of the gun against his shoulder and rested his chin on the stock of the gun. He placed his eye to the high powered scope. The view in front of him changed and the small dots which had represented children exploded into full size images.

  Tom, Zach, Thabo and Tristan finally had a chance to chat alone. It had required Lela to lead the girls off to show them ‘something’ she had noticed in the Temple of the Sun, while the boys went to the Ceremonial Rock, one of the highest points of the city.

  “I’ve managed to speak to a couple of my guys and the search is on,” said Zach as they reached the rock and were out of other students’ earshot.

  “Excellent,” replied Tom but noting the look on Tristan’s face, he realised that they hadn’t told him yet.

  “Sorry Tristan. It seems that my dad’s plane was forced to land by two mysterious Mig 29s. The Guineans don’t have any fighters, never mind Mig 29s, according to our resident African expert, Thabo.”

  “We trace the Migs, we find who’s behind this?” asked Tristan quickly.

  “Yep, or at least that’s what we think,” said Tom.

  “Exactly and we can search through old satellite imagery, historical radar tracks and track these birds back to their origin. This is what we needed, something hard to trace. Trust me, my guys can find any plane that exists,” said Zach.

  Tom spun round, something had just hit him.

  He couldn’t have asked for a clearer shot, his target stood out in the open and had a three thousand feet drop behind him. If he hit him just right, he would fall into the valley below and by the time they realised he had been shot, the sniper would be miles away. He zoomed in on the target, the crosshairs centring on the boy’s chest, with over 1000m to cover, he didn’t want to risk a head shot. He only had one shot, two would alert the soldiers to his position. He wanted to get out of there alive.

  He lined up the shot, took account of the wind and the height the bullet would need to hit the target. He removed the safety device and prepared to fire. His trigger finger was wrapped around the trigger guard. He lifted his finger and placed it on the trigger. He slowly and steadily began to squeeze.

  “But what if they don’t exist anymore?” asked Tom, now facing the guys.

  “What do you mean, your dad saw them didn’t he?” asked Zach.

  “Yes but what if these guys trashed them, knowing they may be a link.”

  “That’s probably $60 million worth of plane, that would be nuts,” said Zach.

  “With these guys, I’m not so sure. It’s something to consider,” said Tom.

  He couldn’t understand it, his finger moved but there was no noise, no recoil. He realised his eyes were closed. He opened them, his view had changed, he was on the ground and could only see the bushes around him. He saw movement, the bush next to him was moving. He tried to move but nothing happened he couldn’t feel a thing. What had happened? He felt nothing, could hear nothing, could only see. The bush began to move away. Then he noticed that the bush had boots, boots he recognised, where had he seen them? Then he remembered the day before, there had been a man next to him, with those boots on. But how could he be a bush? That bush had been there all day, it couldn’t be. He was a professional. Nobody could have done that.

  Why could he not feel anything? He looked down and the full force of what had happened hit him. He could only move his eyeballs and just managed to see his back. It wasn’t possible, he’d never seen his back from that angle before. The sniper died five seconds later in the full knowledge that the man in the bush had broken his neck as he had tried to pull the trigger. His head had been twisted so hard it was now facing the wrong way. His mind, living off its remaining oxygen, had allowed him to see the bush and die knowing he had failed.

  The bush crawled away, it now knew who the target had been.

  Part Five

  Chapter 65

  Beaumont was very worried, the next Committee meeting was in less than two hours and The Chairman was not happy with him. The failure to purchase Alba International was a blow. The price would never be lower than it was then, nor the opportunity greater. The failure to kill Tom Kennedy had been disastrous; it was five days later and they still did not know what had happened. Their man had simply disappeared. Jones just couldn’t explained, he had used one of his best snipers, a man who didn’t make mistakes.

  That, however, didn’t help Beaumont. The Chairman’s confidence in him was dwindling. Too many things had gone wrong in the previous few weeks. The Chairman did not expect things to go wrong and he had insisted on taking control of the upcoming weekend’s operation. He was also going to give the update that evening, which was another slap in the face and message to Beaumont. The President was, it appeared, loving his assistant’s lack of favour and had more than once uttered the ‘I told you so’ line.

  Despite enjoying Beaumont’s downturn, the President had taken some pity on him and had allowed him the use of a helicopter to get home quickly for the meeting. Beaumont had arrived just in time and as he logged on, the light on top of their units changed to yellow, he was the last to join. The meeting would start in two minutes.

  “Good evening gentlemen,” said The Chairman, two minutes later.

  “Good evening,” responded the silhouettes around the screen.

  “Today, we’re o
n the brink of achieving our goal. In less than 5 days, we’ll control the world’s twenty largest countries and with that, we will effectively control the world.”

  A round of applause interrupted The Chairman but Beaumont only managed to join in half-heartedly.

  “We have two operations left to complete. The first within the next 48 hours and the last, 3 days later.”

  “Mr Chairman, are we not worried that the first operation will interfere with the second one? That is, our illustrious world leaders will scuttle underground again?” asked one of the silhouettes.

  “Yes we’ve considered that point and feel the second operation will not be put at risk by the first. In fact, it may help to ensure that everybody attends the venue for the second meeting. I believe a number of gentlemen here will also be in attendance. It should be a fun day,” replied The Chairman triumphantly.

  Beaumont could not help but think that The Chairman was speaking as though he would be there himself. How could he be? But then again, how would Beaumont know? He had absolutely no idea who he was. The next question hit Beaumont hard, especially as he recognised the President’s voice, despite the digitisation.

  “I’m surprised we’ve not purchased Alba, it would seem a shame to have lain the blame at its owner’s door and not taken advantage of the company’s all time low value. I would imagine the value will go through the roof when our next operation reveals Kennedy’s innocence.”

  “Yes, we’ve tried but it appears that the young Mr Kennedy does not wish to sell,” replied The Chairman angrily.

  Beaumont shifted nervously in his seat, he knew very well that the President would only have asked if instructed to.

  “Is that correct Number Four? Have we still failed in our bid to secure Alba?”

  The Committee did not discuss failures, it was an unwritten rule. The Chairman was humiliating Member Number Four for all to see.

  “I’m afraid so,” answered Beaumont. “It appears that we have missed the opportunity to secure the company at a significant discount.”

  “Perhaps another effort before the next operation commences? Afterall, we have forty eight hours before the world finds out that Donald Kennedy was an innocent man. An increased offer perhaps? Or one a fourteen year old with a vulnerable sister can’t refuse?” suggested another member.

  “Excellent idea,” replied The Chairman. “I’ll leave that in your capable hands. Now, the next item on the agenda is…”

  Beaumont couldn’t believe what a stitch up he had just received. He obviously had forty eight hours to prove himself and devise a new operation, in the middle of the ocean, on a heavily fortified island, thousands of miles away.

  When would they learn not to underestimate him? He had not recalled his resources, his men were still in place and had everything they needed to get to the girl. It was too late to kill the boy. By the end of the weekend, Donald Kennedy would be an innocent man. All he had to do was capture the girl and use the sale of Alba as the ransom.

  Chapter 66

  It had been a long and tiring week. Although the trip to Machu Picchu had been amazing, a sixteen thousand mile round trip, in just over thirty six hours, had taken its toll. They had arrived just after lunch on Tuesday and went straight to their classes. It was Tom and Lela’s first real week back and they both found it a struggle. Catching up with what they had missed as well as keeping up with the new work was not easy.

  The Friday evening meeting could not come quickly enough and it appeared everybody had been busy. In front of them were files upon files of information received as a result of the group’s questions.

  “Well guys it looks like we have our work cut out for us,” said Tom surveying the mountain of paper in front of him.

  “Somewhere in there may be the link that leads us to the bad guys. Where should we start…Zach?”

  “Well I’ve got good news and bad news, first the good news. I think we’ve tracked down the meteor. It appears there is an experimental missile which, how can I put this simply, is fired into space and falls to earth gaining energy as it falls. It hits at such a speed that it magnifies any explosive potential ten fold and its own materials cease to exist. Sorry that’s not quite true. Its materials are of a similar composition to paper. Unless you know exactly what you’re looking for, you’d never know.”

  “So who has bought it?” asked Tom.

  “Nobody, it’s still experimental. However, the facility which makes the missiles was broken into about a month ago. It appears that somebody may have stolen one.”

  “But who would know they exist? I mean, it’s not common knowledge is it?” asked Tom.

  “No but the person I spoke to knows about it and now so do all the people around this table. That’s how easy it is for people to find out. It could be anybody.”

  “So that was the bad news, what’s the good news?” asked Tom expectantly.

  “Sorry that was the good news. The bad news is about the Migs. Whoever got them to Equatorial Guinea knew what they were doing. They just suddenly appeared. One day they weren’t there, the next day they were.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Tom who was beginning to become downheartened, the easy links were disappearing fast.

  “It means that whoever got them there knew to avoid satellites and radars,” replied Zach.

  “So what about now, where are they?” asked Tom following the logic that they must have gone back to where they came from.

  “You were right. They’re sitting at the bottom of the Ocean, two new heat sources are showing up on satellite imagery off the Equatorial Guinea coast. They match those of the Mig 29s. Whoever we’re up against just trashed $60 million to cover their tracks. $60 million.” Zach emphasised the number, he needed to let everybody understand what and who they were up against.

  “What about countries missing two Mig 29s?” asked Daniel.

  “We’ve looked at that. As far as we can tell, every single Mig has been accounted for. Although there is the potential that our numbers are inaccurate and more were produced than we thought.”

  “Likelihood?” asked Daniel.

  “Very low, in fact bordering on negligible. We watched every one of those babies roll out of the plants when they were built.”

  “OK, so we know there was a missile and we know there were planes but we have no way of finding either. Both are dead ends?” asked Tom confirming the bad news.

  “I’m afraid so, yes,” responded Zach.

  “Let’s not rule them out yet. I have some resources still looking into both of these,” said Daniel. The Mossad, although one of the smaller intelligence networks, never failed to punch well above its weight.

  “Ok, good. Anything else Zach?” asked Tom, keen to move on.

  “I’m afraid not. All the other bits and pieces seem to be dead ends too,” he said dejectedly.

  “Who wants to go next?” Tom asked half heartedly, he really thought the Migs would have been the link.

  The table remained quiet, everybody else had just got the background info on the victims of the assassinations and their subsequent successors. On their own, they were as helpful as Zach’s. Everybody’s except Daniel’s.

  “I have a couple of things.” He paused as everybody looked at him expectantly. “I have information which suggests that the explosions on Alba One and on Zach’s father’s plane were identical. Both planes, on reaching a height of 12,000 feet, suddenly plummeted to the ground. Of course we can’t do checks on Alba One, it’s at the bottom of the Indian Ocean. However, we’ve managed to check Zach’s father’s plane and it had been tampered with.”

  “But nobody else has found anything, how can your guys know this?” asked Zach.

  “Let’s just say what happened to those jets is not dissimilar to a technique we are acquainted with. The damage caused to the part of the plane in question could be caused during a crash but it’s unlikely. As to access to the plane, that’s confidential.”

  “My dad was a target?�
� asked Zach stunned.

  “It would appear so,” replied Daniel. “It also proves categorically that your parents were murdered,” he added to Tom and Lela.

  “But how do you know where their plane was? I thought nobody knew, it was not on any radar?” asked Tom.

  “Not on any public radar. It appears that Alba One flew low level across Africa and as it approached the coast, began to climb until just after the Seychelles where the plane lost control and plummeted into the ocean.”

  Hearing the details of the plane crash again was not easy on either Tom or Lela. With nothing other than the painstaking review of histories and backgrounds to look through, it was agreed that they would call it quits for the night and resume again the following morning. They all developed fictitious injuries which would prevent them from attending sports and would give them the whole day off.

  As Tom and Lela walked out of the conference room, Daniel was waiting for them by the door.

  “I’m sorry about the crash, I only found out before we came in. I should have warned you,” said Daniel who realised he could have handled it more tactfully.

  “Not at all, even with warning it would have hit us, don’t worry,” replied Lela.

  “There is something else,” said Daniel. “During the same call, I got an update on the search for Tylanni.”

  Lela’s interest perked up.

  “It seems that the boat was spotted entering Port Said in Egypt one evening and was gone the next morning. There has been no further sighting of her for nearly two weeks.”

  “Egypt, what the hell would she be doing in Egypt?”

  “She’s not there, that’s the point. However, a new ship has been sighted, different colours and different name but remarkably similar to the dimensions of Tylanni.”

  “Where?” Lela was not happy, somebody had stolen her boat.