*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1617121-Rogue
by entity
Rated: 13+ · Draft · Thriller/Suspense · #1617121
Thriller. A rogue secret agent is on the run and dangerous. He must be stopped.
PRELUDE


The  weather was the worst it had been all year. Thick storm clouds choked the sky blocking out the sun. Although only mid afternoon it could easily have passed for dusk. The rain had been falling for hours now. Heavy, then light, then heavy again. Torrents of water rushed through the streets with total disregard for the inadequate storm drains. People went about their business trying their hardest to stay dry and warm with an air of nonchalance as if they were used to this kind of weather. All of this was watched silently by a lone figure high on top of Gilders Bank.
      The cold had already crept into the assassin’s bones. He had lost the feeling in his legs hours ago. The shivering was going to have an affect on his aim, but he was such a good shot there was never any chance he was going to miss. Be a little to the left or the right maybe, but no chance of a miss. Lying flat on a roof for hours with nothing but binoculars and a sniper rifle was not exactly his idea of fun, but it was his job. He had done it many times before and worse. Looking down into the street below, he watched every last detail of movement while keeping his own to the bare minimum. A drill he was not only used to, but was one of the best at.
      There…right there. He saw it. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for him to realise he had his target right down below him. There was no way that the average man on the street would have seen the spy betray their cover. She would have been trained to give nothing away. Her appearance, her behaviour, her style had been honed over the years to hide any hint that she might not be exactly as she seemed. She was a pro, one of the best. But he had seen something. A hesitation, a careless glance. Just enough to give the game away. The assassin smiled to himself. The foolish girl, he thought.
      Slowly and carefully the assassin put down the binoculars and pulled the butt of the rifle into his right shoulder. Not too hard as to be over rigid, but enough to command total control over the weapon. It took a few seconds to regain his target in his sights. It was now that all of his training and all of his experience came into play. Already his breathing was slowing down to minimise the movement and calm his nerves. Calmly and purposefully the crosshairs of the sniper rifle sight were trained on the centre of the back of his target. He never aimed for the head, it was the easiest part of the body to miss. A little bit too high and you shoot right past. A turn of the head here or a slight movement to either side there could be the difference between a perfect kill or failure. The body was the best place. Aim for the heart and if there is any slight deviation you are still going to hit something vital enough to do the job. Taking up the first pressure in the trigger mechanism the assassin then let the crosshairs float slightly high over the target. Then holding his breath he lowered the rifle to allow the sight to drift down to the centre of the back of his prey. He pulled the trigger. A single shot fired from the rifle. The noise echoed around the building tops. She crumpled and fell. Her body lifeless on the wet, stony cold pavement.
      As if struck by the bullet himself the dark figure remained in the same position as lifeless as his target below. People were running about screaming in the street, some were looking to see where the danger might have come from. The last thing he wanted to do now was give himself away by getting up and preparing to go. After a few minutes of watching the scene below, and satisfied that it was safe to leave, the cold figure slowly retreated from the building’s edge. Still lying on the floor he packed away his rifle into a sling on his shoulder and tucked the binoculars into his jacket. It was time to go. Without even a cursory glance to the street below, he walked to the stairs and left the roof top. Another job done. No remorse, no guilt. It was his job, what he was trained for. Be it male or female. Man or beast. Cold killing was his speciality. And he was bloody good at it. Even if it was against his own kind. The dark figure of the assassin disappeared into the back streets with another result to keep his boss happy.
      The lifeless figure lying on the cold, wet pavement was not as void of life as the assassin had thought. The bullet had hit the target perfectly: right where the heart was. It would have torn straight through too if it wasn’t for the state of the art body armour. Bruised but alive Agent Veronica Knight came to. With a pained expression on her face and in front of the shocked crowd that had now gathered, the agent picked herself up off the floor and stumbled towards a taxi that had pulled up to the kerb. Throwing open the back door she slumped onto the seat. The taxi drove away immediately leaving the crowd to wonder if anything had actually happened at all. But it had happened, exactly as Agent Veronica Knight had planned.
      “Everything ok?” the taxi driver asked.
      “Thankfully, yes.” Came the reply through pained, gritted teeth.
      “Where to then?” asked the driver.
      “We best get back to base Cooper. The team will want to see how well the armour worked.”
      “And there was me thinking you might want to go for a beer first.”
      “Later I promise. Believe me, I’ve earned it.” Veronica caught Cooper looking into the rear view mirror at her with a look of concern. “I’m fine Steve, honest.”
      Steve Cooper had been Veronica’s gun partner for just over a year now and had never gotten used to a female operative. Not that he was a sexist, Veronica understood that. He was just a man's man who worried about ladies getting hurt and didn’t like to see Knight put herself in danger. It was the profession she had chosen though. Something she had spent a long time being trained for. And besides, everyone knew she was the best. Even better than Steve Cooper. Not that he would ever admit it. Veronica kept her gaze just a little too long back into the mirror at Cooper then looked out of the taxi at the cold grey scenes that passed by. She hurt like hell, but it was going to be worth it. If the plan worked.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

© Copyright 2009 entity (entity at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Username:
Password: <Show>
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1617121-Rogue