Murray McDonald - Assassin

“I know that but he’s still the one shooting and we’re the ones getting shot at.”

“Come on,” said Kano leading the way.

As they neared the seven guards, they could see where Saki was hiding. His gun nozzle appeared again briefly and he sent another ten bullets flying down the corridor. Seeing the movement this time, Kisho and Kano were out of the way before the bullets whizzed past them. They moved again and got closer to the 7 guards. They dealt with them quickly and quietly and moved along the line until only one guard was left. Unaware of his single status, the lone guard, looking intently towards Saki’s cell, gestured for his colleagues to follow and whispered, “come on, let’s kill them now.”

“I think not,” said Kisho grabbing the guard’s hand and snapping his wrist, before knocking him unconscious.

“Uncle Saki, we’re clear!” shouted Kisho as Papa stuck his head round the door at the other end of the corridor.

“About bloody time, we’ve been here for three days you know,” smiled Saki as he prepared to catch Lela who was running, ready to jump into his arms. She quickly disengaged and did exactly the same to Rachel and Donald.

“Where’s Tom?” asked Rachel not sure whether she could be completely relieved.

“He’s fine. He’s waiting in the jeep,” replied Lela, causing Rachel to burst into tears with relief.

Five minutes later, they were waiting outside for Tom to appear with the jeeps. After an emotional reunion, they headed to the airport. On securing them into the jeeps, the SBS did not hang around. They had a submarine waiting for them 12 miles off-shore and they had no intention of missing it. Similarly, the prisoners did not hang around and made a run for it through the open gate.

It was obvious that the message had got out and that the authorities knew something was wrong. Helicopters and soldiers were swarming towards the prison. Their initial orders to ignore any noise from the prison were suddenly retracted and replaced by orders to get there as quickly as possible.

The jeep pulled into the airport before anyone knew that the Kennedys were missing. Alba One sat dormant at one end of the runway. However, she was fully fuelled and ready to go. Her crew had been held in a nearby hotel and on receiving a call from Tom, they had rushed to the airport, boarded and prepped her for flight. Everything bar the lights were on.

They had not stopped talking since they had got into the jeep but as they neared Alba One, Donald turned to Tom and Lela.

“Nobody can know you were ever here. You need to get back to school asap.”

“I know, it’s our best alibi,” replied Tom who knew they would have to go their separate ways.

“Look, we’ll work all this out,” said Donald, now a fully fledged international fugitive.

“Where are you going?” asked Tom, knowing that the UK was an option. Afterall, the PM had just authorised a mission to rescue him.

“I’m not sure, anywhere but here.”

“Dad, just one quick question. Why did you land in Equatorial Guinea? It wasn’t on your itinerary.”

Donald looked at Tom, how could he not know?

“We were forced to land. Two Mig 29s, I think that’s what Jim told us they were, threatened to shoot us down if we didn’t land. Didn’t Jim tell you?” asked Donald surprised.

“No we couldn’t get hold of him. The first time I managed to speak to him was tonight.”

“Well you best fly nice and low, I know we will,” said Donald.

They said their goodbyes and the senior Kennedys made their way up the steps of the darkened plane. The jeeps dropped off the rest of its passengers in the hangar and picked up their two original passengers. They had already removed the offending registration and Equatorial Guinea flag from the plane, returning it to its original plain white.

Both planes powered up in darkness and took off. They didn’t bother with permission from Traffic Control as it wouldn’t have been granted anyway. They stayed close together until they cleared Guinean airspace. Jim suggested that Tom climb and continue as normal. Alba One was the target and there was no point drawing attention to himself. Alba One, however continued on its low level flight, remaining in darkness as it powered East across Africa, skimming tree tops.

Jones’ ears were still ringing. Smith had ordered him to report immediately to the Guinean presidential palace. He reminded him that he was his boss and what the hell was he thinking not telling him he was there. He held Jones personally responsible for over 50 deaths and more importantly, the Kennedys’ escape.

Jones double checked that the Kennedys were definitely missing before heading to the palace. This was not good. He was escorted to the Guinean’s President’s office where an extremely angry Guinean President and Smith awaited him.

“Well?” Smith asked.

“They’ve gone,” replied Jones.

“Damn, I’ll have to report that we lost them. The boss will go berserk.”

“What, you’ve not reported it yet?” asked Jones, seeing a glimmer of hope.

“No, I was waiting for confirmation from you. There was always a chance that our men had secured them somewhere,” replied Smith.

Jones could not believe this gift from the Gods. He smiled, pulled out his gun complete with silencer and shot Smith through the heart. The Guinean President was stunned and just stared at the gasping Smith who looked in bewilderment at the hole in his chest. Jones then turned to the President and pulling out a smaller pistol, shot him once in the head, the noise no louder than a cough. His body slumped forward onto his desk. Smith fell to the floor and watched as Jones placed the larger gun in the President’s hand and the small assassin’s pistol in Smith’s paralysed hand. He then placed a wallet in Smith’s inside pocket.

Smith was just able to hear Jones’ commentary.

“Mr Kennedy’s assassin caught in the act, well done Mr President.”

Smith guessed the wallet would contain a passport with customs stamps which would tally with most of the assassinations and no doubt a strong link to Alba. Jones always was a clever bastard.

Jones surveyed the room, moved a couple of pieces of furniture and when perfect, walked over to the window.

The last words Smith ever heard were “And by the way don’t worry about the Kennedys, their plane has a very nasty surprise in store for them.”

Two weeks later

The funeral was as busy as expected but the real mourners were few. Only the first three aisles of the vast church held family and friends. The rest of the church was packed full with the world’s media. Tom looked up, he couldn’t understand what they expected to see. There were three simple caskets for his mother, his father and Saki. Lela sat next to him, she had not left his side since the news had come through that Alba One had crashed leaving no survivors.

The media had gone wild for the story, Donald Kennedy was dead. Rachel had managed little more than a mention by most of the press, whereas Saki was suspected of being the ‘other assassin’. The assassin found dead alongside the Equatorial Guinean President accounted for two thirds of the world leaders who were killed. Speculation was that Saki was responsible for the other third.

With the death of the assassins and their mastermind, came a renewed feeling of security amongst remaining world leaders. As each day passed, more evidence came to light proving beyond doubt Donald’s guilt. Slowly but surely, leaders became more willing to emerge into the public eye. The British Prime Minister was seen in public for the first time in over a month.