The Assassin

The thick mist descended slowly, shrouding the hilltop in a blanket of white nothingness. Lying in the bush, I did not shiver despite the cold seeping through my thin grey clothing. The rain fell softly, recognising the need for silence, yet turning the dirt on which I lay into a deep brown sludge. Still I did not move. Two dim headlights battled against the mist, slowly getting brighter as they neared. I raised my rifle to my eye, aiming point blank at the rapidly approaching car. My finger squeezed the trigger, suddenly lifting as I lowered the rifle. Wrong car. I was unruffled, simply setting my weapon down and lying still once more.

Across the road stood a ramshackle old house, scarcely visible through the hazy mist. Tiles were missing from the roof, and the front gate clung desperately to the last remaining hinge. Curtains hung limply at the dusty windows, the pattern no longer visible due to years of fading. The garden was a swampy mix of mud and grass, the efforts of a diligent gardener quite literally washed away. The porch was rotting, the steps sagging and half the railings missing. The rain drained the house of any colour, reducing the once colourful walls to a dull grey.

A soft growling came from down the road. I blinked, and glanced leftwards to watch a large four-by-four cautiously make its way up the steep road. Unlike the other cars, this one slowed and turned into the house’s soggy driveway. The aerial on the roof was bent, and the right indicator light was missing. It drove up the narrow driveway and stopped front of the house.

The engine suddenly cut off, and a tall woman stepped out. She pulled the key out of the ignition and slammed the door shut, the wing mirror wobbling precariously. She stumbled around to the passenger door and retrieved a small, black briefcase, strangely smart and new in contrast to her threadbare suit. She hurried round to the rear of the car, clutching the briefcase to her chest to protect it from the now driving rain, and hastily raised the boot, before heaving several laden shopping bags from its depths. Staggering towards the front steps, the woman slid and almost lost her balance, but saved herself just in time and resumed her treacherous journey. She hurried up the stairs, and placed the bags at her feet, taking a moment to catch her breath.

I raised my rifle to my eye once more.

The woman fumbled in her pocket for her key, and shoved it in the keyhole, her hands shaking. She wrenched it round, and a faint click could be heard. Pushing the door open, the woman bent to pick up her bags, loose strands of hair twisting wildly around her face.

Calm and calculated, I lined up the rifle, aiming directly at her head. I squeezed the trigger, the 0.50 calibre lead bullet flying out at almost 800 metres a second. The woman was dead even before the sound of the gunshot reached her ears.

My task complete, I sat up, rifle in my hand. I opened the case, and coolly placed my still smoking weapon away, carefully retrieving any threads from the branches I snagged as I lay down. I strolled down the hill, unlocked my car and clambered in. I turned on the ignition, gently revving the engine as blue sky began to appear through the dense cloud.

***

Lights blind me. Dark shadows creep towards the car, green scopes staring like eyes, A voice orders me to step out the vehicle, raise my hands above my head. I grip the steering wheel and sigh.

I suppose it was bound to happen some day.