Professional

Target came down the steps of his fort like a penguin down an iceberg. Dorito smiled to himself. 100% pure flab, the bullet might not pierce his heart very fast but he would have a very slow reaction time.

His bodyguards were another matter. The traditional block of bronze in a dark suit, sunnies and one earphone protruding from their collar. The bulges in their jackets were fooling no-one.

A brief ‘clink’ of metal ensued as the sniper was pushed up to point. The guard groaned feebly through his gag and Dorito gave him the look that burns.

Guard towers were supposed to work the other way round, let the guards have the height advantage over the enemy. After weeks of observation from a nearby knoll gave Dorito the opportunity he had been waiting for.

This morning he scaled the tower while the guards went down to steal cheese from the fort kitchen, on schedule.

A wise old geezer once said that procedure kills a man.

When the guards returned, one was silently shot from behind and the other tied.

The tied up guard informed him of the exact time of departure and had been answering the hourly radio checks.

Now it was time.

Target’s waddling frame was in the centre of his cross hairs. The gates of the compound began to open.

...

A gout of smoke issued from one of the towers, and the bodyguards both reacted and dived out of the way.

Target tumbled over like a balloon which has just trodden on a banana peel. With a proper ‘phut’ noise he flopped into the dirt.

Dorito started humming ‘Another one bites the Dust” as he loaded his pistol. He backed up against the corner and curled into a ball.

He despatched the tied up guard with a burst and then pointed the pistol at the stairs and waited. It couldn’t be too hard.

He was the professional after all

...

To be continued