Jan 28 2009
Rebuild
Jesse walked up the street exuding a purpose he did not feel. The questions of “Who?”, “Why?”, and “How?” all faded into insignificance when compared with the question of when they would try again. Jesse knew that those thugs who tried to assassinate him were working for someone. That someone would have to assume that his hired guns had failed, and quite spectacularly. Ergo, this nameless employer would try again. Jesse had to out-think them and finish the job.
THE JOB!
Jesse’s instructions had included a time limit. He checked his watch and breathed a little easier, as he realized he still had plenty of time. He mentally ran through an inventory of what ammunition and arms he had available to him. 4 rounds expended on the bus stop attackers meant 5 rounds still in his G27 subcompact. He had a spare magazine in his back pocket, but had hoped to use minimal ammunition on this job, especially in the Glock. His grenade was gone, but he’d never really expected to use that on the job proper. He still had the black Ruger Mark III Hunter, with two full magazines, which would be more than enough to do the job he had to do. And of course, he had his knives. He thought back to this morning, when he received the offer for his latest job.
==========
Jesse turned on his computer and connected to the web server on which he received his job e-mails. He expected his inbox would be empty, as usual. It hadn’t been all that long since his last job, and while he’d performed admirably, he figured his financier had more than one assassin. He checked his mail every day upon waking, however. It was habits like that which showed professionalism and dedication. When he ran his custom e-mail application, he was surprised to hear the telltale “bling” of an incoming message. He brought it up.
To: Deadly Shadows
From: Deep Pockets
Subject: Job 013-23-101 Available
Body:
Mr. Shadow, I have recently been handed a job that fits your skill set perfectly. Your services will be required this Wednesday, January 5th at 3pm at the restaurant on the corner of Harrison and The Embarcadero. You will watch for a black stretched limousine. Attached, you will find a picture of the mark as well as pictures of his wife, and many of his bodyguards. You will eliminate him, and whatever bodyguards you deem necessary to complete the assignment. I do not specify the method of the kill, though you must NOT kill the man’s wife. Consider the job incomplete and void if the man’s wife is killed.This mark travels “light”, with minimal security. It is my opinion that he considers an assassination attempt rather unlikely. He has never been seen traveling with more than 2 bodyguards, and said bodyguards have never been seen with anything other than semi-automatic handguns or revolvers. Risk is considered minimal.
Your payment will be USD $1,000,000 for services rendered, to be paid upon verification of the kill by yours truly.
Please accept or deny the job through the customary channels by the end of day today. Non-response will be construed as denial.
-D
Jesse read and re-read the message from his nameless financier. One million dollars, while not worth as much since the dollar collapsed, was still a great deal of money to someone who as recently as 7 months ago was struggling financially. There was no doubt that he would take the job. It sounded as though there would be no more heat on this job as on any of his previous jobs, though he knew it didn’t really matter how much opposition he’d faced. Danger and the thrill of a firefight was why he’d taken this job in the first place, wasn’t it?
Jesse walked calmly to the front of his apartment and adjusted his blinds. His financier had told him, “right side of the blinds slightly up for ‘yes’, and left side slightly up for ‘no’. Put your blinds entirely up if you’ve been compromised and suspect you are being monitored, and if your blinds are down, I’ll assume you’ve been eliminated. I will not contact you further if your blinds have been unchanged for 3 days.” Those were his financier’s terms, and like everything arranged by him, bore the marks of sheer professionalism.
The life of the assassin had been taught to Jesse by the media. Everything from television shows, to movies, to comic books had taught him enough to get him interested in the world of the professional assassin. However, he’d had no idea of the massive amount of details that went into making someone a contract killer. He’d read everything he could get his hands on, or anything he could find on the Internet. It all fascinated him, but until Deep Pockets had contacted him, he didn’t have the first clue how it all worked. Deep Pockets had set it all up for him. All he had to do was train with his weapons, complete the jobs, and his new “boss” took care of the rest.
Jesse quickly saw to his weapons, getting them ready for his job Wednesday. Each weapon represented a facet of his work as an assassin:
The Glock Model 27 subcompact .40 caliber handgun represented the assassin’s need for around-the-clock security. Whether Jesse was on a bus, or walking down the street, he needed to be able to defend himself, though the fact that he carried a firearm could not be immediately obvious to others. He chose the Glock 27 for a couple of different reasons. First, the Glock had always been a favorite of Jesse. His exposure to the Austrian firearm through movies, music, and television was vast, and when it came to selecting a concealable defense handgun, the Glock was a natural choice. It was easy to disassemble and clean, small, and black. Jesse liked his firearms to be black for additional concealability. Stainless finishes were pretty, but you never knew when the glint of light off stainless would give away your position. He chose the Model 27 specifically for the .40 caliber’s stopping power. He loaded hollow point rounds in the G27 so that the bullets would fragment on impact and had less of a chance of going through walls and bodies to hit additional bystanders, and a greater chance of taking down an assailant with one noisy shot.
Jesse had used the Glock to assassinate his first mark when his original plan went awry. He had picked the lock to the bedroom of the banking mogul, and had planned to snap his neck. His plan did not address the fact that the banker was a light sleeper and woke up with the sound of the lock-picking. Jesse was ashamed to remember that he had emptied an entire magazine into the mark when he finally got the door open and was attacked, alerting the entire household security detail. Getting out of that situation had been…messy. Since that unfortunate incident, Jesse had trained with a new weapon more suited to subtle assassinations.
The Ruger Mark III Hunter is a .22 caliber pistol, which Jesse had custom-blacked and threaded to accept a specially-designed suppressor. Using subsonic ammunition, the most noise the suppressed Hunter makes when firing is the sound of the trigger being pulled and cycling of the action. Jesse was even considering having his gunsmith fabricate a slide locking mechanism, which would prevent the action from moving when fired. Not only would it help to silence an already quiet firearm, it would prevent the ejection of spent brass, which Jesse currently had to spend valuable moments finding after firing the Hunter. Finally, the use of subsonic ammunition had caused Jesse some problems in the past due to the lower recoil of such ammunition. The slide lock would require the firearm to be manually racked for each firing, eliminating the misfeeds, but substantively reducing his effective rate of fire. He’d definitely have to consider it carefully. He made a mental note to speak to Trigger about it at their next meeting. If anyone could fabricate such a mechanism, Trigger could.
In his last job, Jesse had used the suppressed Hunter to assassinate an African Diplomat. The firearm worked so well, he’d purchased a backup in the unlikely event he needed to drop his primary Hunter on the job. That job had also required him to quietly eliminate three bodyguards. He wanted to have plenty of ammunition available for the diplomat, so he’d used his final standard weapon to take out the bodyguards: The Fairbairn-Sykes Combat Knife.
The Fairbairn-Sykes knife had been introduced to Jesse in the James Bond novels he used to read. When he was adding the Mark III Hunter to his loadout, he decided he need an additional method for killing silently in the event of firearm or ammunition failure, and the Fairbairn-Sykes knives were a no-brainer for him. He kept them razor sharp, and secreted three of them around his body when he was on a job.
When he’d asked Trigger for the knives, he trained with all three patterns of knife produced for the British military. The pattern 1 and 2 knives appealed to Jesse, and he settled on the pattern 2, primarily because it was often produced with a blacked finish, his color choice for stealth. Jesse did not like the pattern 3 Fairbairn-Sykes, as he felt the ring grip to be too flashy, and felt it threw off the balance of the knife. Still any of the Fairbairn-Sykes Combat Knives were quite superior to most of what was out there, and he trained almost daily in their use.
Having seen to his weapons, Jesse got ready to go scout the Embarcadero, where the job was to take place a few short days from now. He wasn’t sure how this would go, but he knew he wanted to be as ready as he could be, and he had the rest of today and tomorrow to ensure that he was. He strapped on his G27 and knives, and headed out to prepare.
==========
Jesse shook his head clear of the memories as he continued walking down Harrison Street. He didn’t think that his recent assailants were sent to prevent him from accomplishing the job at hand, but if they were successful in their attempts, they most definitely would. But if they weren’t sent to stop him hitting the man in the limousine, then why were they sent? A past job? A double-cross on the part of Deep Pockets?
Jesse didn’t think that was likely, given the amount of work Deep Pockets had done to make Jesse into the assassin he now was. In addition, Deep Pockets had to know that Jesse had absolutely no information regarding his identity, the source of his funds, or how he came by these jobs. But blowback from a past job was definitely possible, even likely. He ran a hand through his short, dark brown hair, and quickened his pace slightly. The cold wind off the bay cut through his jacket, and he remembered fondly the strong coffee he’d had this morning when cleaning his weapons for the final time before the job. He never wondered whether or not he’d survive a job. Such thoughts were distractions, and he knew he could scarce afford such. However, in light of recent events he now wondered if he’d even make it to the job, as he walked down the semi-steep hill leading down to the Embarcadero.
Just as he crossed over Beale Street walking down the left side of Harrison Street, he saw a man begging for some change. Jesse had closely followed the rapid collapse of the entire economy, and saw every sector being hit hard. As a result, he had some compassion for those unfortunate souls who lost everything in their retirement accounts along with their jobs. He, himself had been downsized from Oracle just seven months ago. He hadn’t lost everything, but had come close, and always tried to spare some money for those who didn’t have a job. He began digging in his pocket for a couple bills to toss to the poor man when he passed him. If it hadn’t been for his preoccupation, he might have stepped over the chunk of broken sidewalk rather than catching his toe on it and stumbling. Of course, if he hadn’t tripped, he’d now be dead.
As he stumbled, the shot rang out, the sound magnified by the tall buildings surrounding him. He continued his forward momentum, and tucked his shoulder into his body to perform a roll toward a stone planter. He quickly scanned the buildings around him and came to the sickening realization that he had no idea of where the shot could have come from, and no way of finding out that vital piece of information. However, as he flashed back to the many nights he spent playing games like Call of Duty, Medal of Honor, and Team Fortress on his personal computer, he knew if he stayed here, the sniper would quickly get the best of him. He didn’t know from where the sniper was shooting, and as a result, couldn’t determine what would provide adequate cover. He sprinted out from behind the planter, headed for the nearest building, which looked to be an apartment complex. He dodged between the now-running and screaming people that filled the street, and was narrowly missed by another shot. This one was close enough that he could actually hear the air being displaced by the speeding bullet. A man screamed as the bullet went wide of Jesse, and instead hit him. He made it to cover inside the glass doors of an apartment building, and quickly thought about what had happened, now that he had the advantage of cover.
The rifle the sniper was using was obviously not of the semi-automatic variety, since the second shot was some time in coming. With a semi-automatic rifle, the shooter needed only to reacquire his target, and not work the bolt to chamber another round. The time between shots had been about three or four seconds, telling Jesse that this sniper was perhaps not as experienced as some. He tried to search his memory for clues as to where the shots hit, but had been caught entirely off-guard and hadn’t paid close enough attention to angles. He hadn’t even seen which way the bystander near him had been spun when the stray bullet caught him. He cursed at himself under his breath even as he drew his Glock, knowing it would be ineffective at taking out a sniper at range, even if Jesse had known his position.
He needed to figure out the general position of the sniper, if he was going to get out of this alive. If the shooter had been in a building on Jesse’s side of the street, he’d have had to lean out too far to get a good shot. At the very least, it would have made the shot more difficult. They couldn’t have been banking on Jesse walking down the wrong side of the street. Even if they’d been watching him casing the area, he’d walked down both sides of Harrison Street, to judge which was the better approach. Just as he realized the likelihood of a second sniper team in place on his side of the street, Jesse heard a crash behind the door marked “Stairs” to his right. He stepped back, and when the door burst open, he fired a single shot into center mass of his assailant before realizing that the tactical gear the man was wearing included a ballistic vest.
Quickly, he moved to the door and kicked it shut, before additional combatants could enter the fray. He heard the satisfying crack of door against an arm, as well as a gunshot fired by reflex. He heard what sounded like a single man hitting the floor, so he checked the man he’d already shot. He was just starting to stir, while clutching his chest, so Jesse let the door he’d kicked swing back open. He stepped into the stairwell, closing on the man who’d dropped his gun, kicked the gun away and axe-kicked the attacker in the center of his chest. He left the man gasping for air as he turned to question the man he’d shot.
His shift in attention was just in time to see the first assailant groping for his gun. Jesse kicked the gun away and knelt next to him, the Glock pressed to the man’s temple.
“Who do you work for?” Jesse needed an answer to this vital question, if he got nothing else out of this guy. The man replied in a pained, British accent.
“Piss off.” Jesse calmly set down his Glock, and drew the Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife he kept in the sheath secured to his right calf, under his jeans. He pressed the knife to the man’s cheek, enough to draw a bead of blood.
“Dude, I need answers, but you don’t need your fingers to give them to me. Get it? Who do you work for?” The man’s eyes widened noticeably, but he remained silent. Jesse swore, as he knew he couldn’t bring himself to cut off the man’s fingers to extract the information he wanted. Killing this man was also not part of the contract, and Jesse didn’t want the extra heat. He switched the Fairbairn-Sykes knife to his left hand, picked up his Glock, stood up, and kicked the man squarely in the ribs. He had a job to do, and didn’t have time to question this Limey properly. In addition, if there were a second sniper team, they could very well be converging on this building.
Jesse turned and narrowly avoided being kicked in the face by the man he’d left in the stairwell by blocking with his right forearm. The force of the kick caused him to lose his grip on the small, sweaty grip of the Glock, and it skittered toward the front door of the building. He stepped back and forced his body to relax as he looked into the eyes of the man he faced. Jesse lifted his right hand, and watched, as the man focused his attention on it. He didn’t see the knife. As he reached slowly outward, as though performing some sort of martial arts move, Jesse kept his left hand obscured by his body, while he observed his attacker.
In Jesse’s limited experience, there was a look to someone who intended to survive an encounter versus someone who was well-trained in some fighting art. As his enemy moved into a stance Jesse associated with one of the kicking arts, perhaps Taekwondo, he decided that this guy normally trained to score sparring points. Jesse, however, was not interesting in fighting this man but rather, surviving and finishing his job. The man telegraphed a tremendous kick with his entire body with his left leg, and Jesse quickly moved inward with the hand holding the knife and scored two quick, telling blows with the knife, severing the man’s brachial and carotid artery. The man dropped quickly, as Jesse turned and ran toward the front door and his Glock.
(To be continued…)
Author’s Note: Thank you to the helpful folks at Calguns.net for the information they provided that helped me settle on the Ruger Mark III for Jesse’s suppressed firearm. (And no thanks to the unhelpful people who insisted that I was asking questions in order to procure a suppressor for myself, and refused to help out an amateur writer.)
A big thank you to the people who have provided feedback about this particular story: Gabe, Daniel, Shawn and Cliff. Your responses, even when relayed through a 3rd party, helped me want to continue the story past a single installment. This second part was slower paced, I know, but I felt I needed to provide a little bit of backstory. I’ve written a great deal more information in terms of backstory than I’ve included here, though, so stay tuned, as things are heating up for Jesse, obviously. I’ve been researching knife fighting theories, so I’m hoping I can do justice to those who have used the awesome Fairbairn-Sykes Combat Knife in real wartime combat situations. I’d like to thank No Nonsense Self Defense for the very interesting articles he’s written.
Finally, a large thank you to http://www.gotavapen.se. The information there regarding the Fairbairn-Sykes knives and the various patterns that were used was of great assistance.
Thank you again.
