Ex Australian Sniper Ryan Harris now works with the Agency but is unaware of a conspiracy.
Click, click, thud. The room’s light, fan and computer instantly turned on. A man stood in the doorway for a second surveying his room. Noticing no change from when he had left it hours before, the man crossed to his high back office chair and sat down. Several pieces of clothing and books were strewn across the room, a Powderfinger poster hung awkwardly on a wall. The man pressed a small slider under the desk and a large keyboard slid out. He raised it onto the hardwood desk in front of the monitors and it slid into the cutout he had made for it.
The man lifted his right hand and gently placed onto the Logitech mouse that was at his side. He looked up and was greeted by the blue login screen of Windows 7. The password that was processed into the computer was short and the screens flicked to the desktop. Several icons scattered the screens, all seemed not important. A small icon with the symbol of a blue badger holding a silver ball was double clicked on which ran the executable program behind it. The screens turned grey until a second later a cool female voice spoke from the speakers.
‘Please enter your password’.
The man quickly keyed in a longer password this time taking several seconds to complete. Looking satisfied once all of the black dots had appeared the man’s right index finger flicked across to press enter. The box where the password had been placed in now disappeared and was replaced by a replica of an eye.
‘Now please scan your retina’, said the female voice.
The man looked directly into the white webcam that was place on top of his computer screens. He moved closer and held his eye open to allow the program to run facial and retina recognition. A green light ran over his eye on screen and blinked out of existence. The grey program evaporated and it was replaced by a blue screen with a faint white outline of the badger.
‘Greetings Ryan Harris’, said the computer. ‘How may the Agency assist you today?’
‘Evening Proxy. I want to check up on my father’, said Ryan.
‘Affirmative’, replied Proxy. ‘Your father, Kel Harris is currently being held in an unknown prison with coordinates positive to somewhere in Queensland. Mr. Harris is currently serving a fourteen year sentence –’
‘Skip the details Proxy. I know what he’s in jail for. Tell me whether he has experienced any major changes since my last check in’, said Ryan bored. They went through this procedure every time Ryan was anxious about his father.
‘Affirmative Mr. Harris. Latest scans indicate that your father was facing northwest at approximately twenty one forty five. Reports show that he encountered a hostile prisoner and neutralized the threat. Security camera one – one – oh – three recorded the footage. He is now in solitary confinement for the next week and will have no visitor privileges for the month’.
Ryan smiled, that was his father alright. Suddenly he heard a footstep upon the stairs. Damn Proxy for being so loud otherwise he would have heard the intruder earlier. He ordered Proxy to be silent and closed the program, locking his computer in the process. Ryan slid open the first drawer of his desk to reveal the hidden Heckler and Koch suppressed USP.45 tactical. Strictly speaking Ryan was breaking the law by being in possession of the high caliber sidearm as a now civilian, but when it was his life on the line; Ryan was ready to take the risk. Australia was such a strict country. ‘Damn politicians’, thought Ryan. Life had been easier when he lived in the States.
Underneath the USP.45 was a Karambit utility blade that Ryan had imported from a dealer in Malaysia. Its serrated edge would give Ryan an advantage in the coming fight. Another footstep fell upon the stairs. Closer this time, and Ryan was liked a lion crouched behind the slightly closed door and ready to pounce. His right foot ready to kick the door into his assailant. His right hand gripped the Karambit tightly and the USP.45 was in his newly attached shoulder holster. Chances were if he needed to reach for the USP.45 the fight would be lost. At the moment, Ryan had no idea of who his opponent was and how skilled he or she is. Most assassins were female these days, but if the contractor had any information on Ryan they would have sent a heavy set male assassin.
Ryan himself was rather large standing just over one hundred and ninety centimeters and he usually towered over every man he came across. Close quarter combat was just not his thing. His ex sniper background let him prefer sitting on a hillcrest, preferably somewhere in Afghanistan prone in a shrub, in a valley, shooting terrorists from over a kilometer away. With the anticipation of getting up close and personal, Ryan felt the blood and adrenaline begin to pulse through him at a rapid rate. The assailant reached the top of the stairs and Ryan heard them turn slowly examining all rooms.
Heavy boots smashed down on the tiles a meter away from where Ryan was crouched behind his door. A step closer. One more and the assailant would be met with the door. The assailant stepped forward and his arm with a suppressed handgun hovered through the gap. On closer inspection the weapon was a customized Austrian Glock 19 semi compact 9mm model. The standard magazine had been removed and replaced with a much larger one, more than likely capable of holding twenty rounds. The Glock also had a one inch tactical flashlight attached below the barrel. It was switched on beginning to search Ryan’s room. The arm that held it was thick and hairy and an expensive Rolex was strapped around the wrist. It would be a pity to break it.
Ryan lashed out with his foot to smash the door on the arm. The door flew forwards on its hinges but suddenly met the assailant’s hand. Ryan leapt out from his hiding spot bringing his fist down onto the joints that the assailant used to hold the Glock. The Glock dropped from the hand and Ryan kicked it under his bed. It slid along the carpet, the safety wasn’t switched on. The assailant then made the mistake of ducking down to try and retrieve his weapon. Whoever this was was clearly untrained in hand to hand combat if they required a weapon at all times. Or they were just an amateur. Ryan intrigued to see who this was, now erased all thought of killing the assailant from his mind.
Dropping the Karambit blade, Ryan grabbed the assailants lowered head and threw it down upon his waiting knee. Ryan felt the nose and maybe the jaw break from the impact. He grabbed the assailant’s hair pulling him to his feet avoiding the windmill like arms. Even in the dim light, Ryan could make out the man’s features. He hadn’t seen that ugly scarred face for many years since Afghanistan. The best long shot that Ryan had ever served with in any unit, but as weak as a little girl up close and personal. His old commanding officer, Nathan Edwards.
Nathan looked up at Ryan, he was shorter and wider. ‘Ryan?’ he asked clearly stunned.
‘What the fuck are you doing here Nathan?’ asked Ryan. ‘This is my house, who else would you be expecting here’.
‘Last intel we received was you’d gone under the radar. Thought someone else was here now and you’d moved on. I’ll tell you what I’m here for though. I’m here to help you get your father out’.
Be sure to fan and read my other work 'Hunters'.
More will be added when it is completed.