Trident Force

by Michael Howe

  The man saw motion at the door to the construction office trailer and bent forward to look through the sniper scope. There, filling most of the scope’s field, was Mamoud al Hussein, flanked by two engineers, stepping out of the trailer. Although al Hussein had so far escaped being firmly connected with the cruise ship attack, he still represented a threat to the man. He was the only living person who knew of the man’s connection to the affair.

  The man saw no reason to wait—he squeezed off two shots, the second aimed slightly lower than the first. Al Hussein slumped backward, and the two engineers, driven by instinct, recoiled while his bodyguards crouched down and scanned the area around them. The man fired two more shots into his still-exposed target. He then stood and walked rapidly out of the room, along the hall and down the stairs to the alley behind the building. Waiting there for him was an ancient motorbike. He kick-started the engine and then sputtered almost sedately through the maze of alleys that meandered among the block of tired old buildings onto a main street, merging unnoticed with the passing mass of humanity.

  His problem was solved, and the local dissidents, even though they had played absolutely no role, would garner all the credit.