A Sequence Of Events

I sat on my balcony drinking room service’s pathetic attempt at English tea, going over and over it in my head. I knew this was a bad thing to do as you tend to start adding extras and varying your plan in different ways but I did it anyway, probably out of nervousness. Killing someone in close quarters although harder than sniping them from a distance can still be quite easy. The hardest part is the extraction from the kill zone and withdrawal from the country. Planning is everything and providing the execution goes exactly to plan then in theory you should have nothing to worry about.

All I knew about the target was his name what he looked like and where his local was. He was twenty six and whatever it was he had done, it had led to the killings of two DEA agents. To hazard a guess I would say knew details of Undercovers and if they didn’t shut him up he’d do whatever he did again. I didn’t ask and I didn’t care. To me he was $80,000 and for anyone so young to be worth this much I could only surmise that in the short spell of him being a man he had worked his way up in his trade at a reasonably fast pace so therefore should be able to take what was coming like the man he thought he was.

I knew what he looked like and where to find him and unless he could do a Sam Beckett and Quantum Leap his way out of Mexico City in the next six hours his life was going to end tonight.

Imagine if you can a reasonably good looking Mexican lad. Add to it an Ali G walk and a boy band image and that’s your target. This guy loved himself. He probably sold coke for a living and spent his days cruising round with his ‘homey’s’ listening to rap music. How he had acquired the knowledge of UC’s was beyond me, but then I had no idea how far up the food chain he was here in Mexico. What I could be sure of was that the chances of him being alone for any extended period of time were slim. He would also be spending most of his time in crowded places hard to get out of if the shot went off incorrectly.

Crowded places such as night clubs can occasionally prove good places for a job. If you can get the shot off or the knife in without being heard or spotted its possible to put ten or twenty unsuspecting people between yourself and the target before he even hit’s the floor. Put a low powered .22 into his liver and the guy will stand there trying to make out the blood on his hand in the flickering night club lights for a good few seconds before he falls to the floor in shock and bleeds to death. The alcohol and fast beating heart from dancing the night away will assist in the bleeding to death but a lot of liver trauma can be treated with simple surgery so lacing the projectile with some form of poison helps. On the other hand if your spotted by some handbag wielding slapper who starts screaming the whole thing can turn nasty. I decided against the crowded place for now. Nice easy one to start with I thought. I knew all of the theory inside out, at least I knew the theory I had been taught. Finding out how true it all was or if it worked would only come with time. Where the Op was concerned I can’t remember if I was nervous or scared. I’m being totally honest here I was one or the other. If you ever meet a person in the same line as work as me and they tell you they weren’t one or the other then as far as I’m concerned they are lying, either about their first job or whether they are in the trade at all. Killing a person should not be taken lightly.