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The Assassin. He was perched high above the ground, and had a clear view of the place. Even the headlights of cars bustling on the motorway could not distract him from his objective.

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The Assassin By Vishaal Parekh He was perched high above the ground, and had a clear view of the place. Even the headlights of cars bustling on the motorway could not distract him from his objective. A thorough professional - 'nerves of steel' they said, he had made the tree his natural habitat over the past few days. All his years of experience in different situations made him become comfortable in any environment and had a way of blending in. He knew the local area completely and knew the exact routine of the local people in this calm and sedate village. The locals had no idea, who was going to be staying at the unobtrusive rambling hacienda over the hills. He checked his watch, the dial displayed 2100 hours. Opening the bag, he began assembling the apparatus that had been his companion for the past 10 years. The 'companion' was a STEYR HS .50. A, 33in (833mm) cold hammer forged barrel providing excellent accuracy at an effective range up to 1,500m and ensuring supersonic velocity which guarantees a superior penetration power at long distance. ...read more.


He followed the car's journey from the motorway onto the narrow lane, going through the mud, like going through slush. The car approached the gates of the old hacienda and immediately the gates creaked open, giving him a brief view of the outhouses and the compound within it. The gates closed with a thud. From up above perched comfortably on the tree, he set his sight on the target through the night-vision lens. He could view the subject in detail. The Volvo passed through a second set of gates and came to a stop in the only area that was entirely open and clear. Whoever was in charge of security obviously had taken a lot for granted, feeling assured that no one would know anything about the place and of the meeting. An attendant opened the car door. The first thing he noticed were the smart shoes, with rather high stilettos. He also noticed the well toned legs and the smart navy blue suit. She was about 5 foot 4 inches, and perhaps that explained the stilettos. ...read more.


Retrieving the bike, he unzipped his black overalls to reveal a bright tight t-shirt and dark cycling shorts. He placed the rucksack on his back, adorned the cycling helmet and was off - a typical cyclist like scores in the village. The bike ride to an unused farm shed would take him exactly 10 minutes. He quickly put on his leather motorbike gear and inserted his gloved hands into a pair of sturdy gloves. He purposely had a bright red rucksack so that witnesses could recall having seen a cyclist with a bright red rucksack. By placing the red rucksack into a black one, he hoped that it would create a different identity to the cyclist. All that remained was to destroy the bike, which was not a problem as it was a purpose built bike, and dismantling it proved to be a piece of cake. He scattered the pieces in different parts of the farm, and as he climbed on his Yamaha motorbike, surveyed the scene one last time and flicking his helmet visor, he, manoeuvred the bike towards the farm lanes that would, 2 hours later lead him onto the motorway - a good 50 miles away from the assassination scene. ...read more.

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