The assasination

Tom Bradbury walked out of his daughter’s room; wiping the sweat from his brow, he moaned almost inaudibly about his day at work. He walked downstairs intent on going to his home-office to complete some unfinished paperwork before joining his wife in bed.
He looked around; sometimes he still found it surreal that someone like himself who seven years earlier had only just completed law school, could now be an extremely successful lawyer, married with a young daughter; he could not imagine how anything could disturb his perfect world.
He was tired and he knew that the next day would be another hectic nine hours in the office, presuming he got out on time. He rarely had any leisure time, and that which he had was spent entertaining his daughter’s expensive hobbies.

It was a cold dark night as Stephens slouched down the road; he was a tall, well-built man with jet-black hair, and with the briefcase he carried he could easily pass-off to any observers as a businessman eager to get home. Walking down the road, he knew exactly where to go and what to do, he had spent numerous nights rehearsing his actions, and he knew exactly the routine his target followed. At ten ‘O’ clock he put his child to bed, he then worked until eleven when he then himself went to bed. Stephens studied the display on his digital watch; quarter to ten exactly.
The briefcase he carried with him contained all the equipment he needed, if something went wrong he would abort and try again another night.
He reached the edge of the Bradbury estate, finding a shadowed corner out of the range of security cameras; he scaled the wall and landed almost silently in the bushes on the other side. Seeing his chosen destination he ran across the grass and hid under a group of trees; he had a perfect view of Bradbury’s office, yet the trees hid his illegitimate presence.

Tom sat down in his office chair, the pile of paperwork on his desk extended to nearly half a metre high. If he didn’t complete his current case by the next day, he would loose a client and consequently, a half a million pound deal.
Suddenly there was a commotion outside, he looked over to the window; a guard cold be seen running past. Tom presumed hey were chasing a stray dog again over the last week it had happened three times.
Sitting down he chose to ignore the mayhem outside and start his work. The clock on the wall seemed to be increasingly loud; each second the tick of the hand moving seemed to grow closer to an unbearable nose. After about five minutes, Tom had to stop work and go remove the clock from the wall and place it in the living room.

Stephens opened his briefcase, cursing the loud click it created; after waiting a few seconds he decided it had gone un-noticed ad proceeded to unpack his equipment. As he click the sight onto his rifle there was a noise behind him.
He turned o see a guard nearby. Tom closed the briefcase silently and picked up the rifle, ready to move; if he was lucky, this wouldn’t be necessary.
Suddenly his pager bleeped. The guard span around and looked straight at him. Before the guard had time to register what was before his eyes, Stephens had stood up and started to run across the grass, he had an escape route planned; he ran straight across the grass to an area of bushes, all the time with the guard racing behind hi. Stephens dived behind a bush and crawled through to the other side, he then continued running to another area of trees, he finally decided he was safe to stop. He looked at his pages to se what the message that had almost blown his cover was;
“Stephens, the task must be carried out tonight, whatever happens, its tonight or the deals off.” It was from his employer, although Stephens didn’t know the man who was paying him, he took the threat of losing the deal seriously, and this was an expensive job; £35,000.
Stephens looked around, he was opposite Bradbury’s bedroom window, although the windows were closed, he could see a silhouette inside it, he carefully loaded a round into his rifle and aimed at the head of the figure. One pull of the trigger was all that it took to end the life of his victim, the bullet sailed through the window and embedded itself into the skull of the person inside.
Stephens didn’t have time to stick around and inspect his work, the reason he aimed for the head; instant kill. As long as he hit, he killed. Pulling out a small canister of petrol, he poured it over his briefcase and rifle, dropping a match onto them he calmly stood up and walked over to the wall. He could head the sound of sirens in the distance, by he time they found his equipment it would be too burnt to give any clues. He scaled the wall and checking that no-one was around, walked off in the direction of his flat; he would phone his employer and tell him the job was completed, and arrange payment for the next day.

Tom sat back in his chair and sighed. He had finished his case, he stood up and wiped his glasses. Walking over to the door he switched the light off, the commotion outside had subsided and there had been nothing since. He stopped off in the bathroom to finish his nightly routine. Taking off his glasses, he placed them in their custom made leather case. He then proceeded to brush his teeth. Just as he rinsed out his mouth there was a deafening band and the sound of glass smashing in the next room. His bedroom.

Tom ran out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, as he entered he froze. There lying on he bed was his wife… well to be more specific there lying on the bed was a majority of his wife, a section of her head was splattered across the wall behind the bed, and her blood was covering almost everything in the room. Tom rushed to the window in time to see a small fire being lit by the walls and a shadowed figure walk calmly away.
Tom rushed to his bedside phone, and ignoring the blood now coating it, he rang the police and told them what was happening. It then hit him, his daughter! Was she OK?! He couldn’t let her see her mothers mutilated remains. Running out of the room into his daughter’s he saw her sitting up in bed crying. He let out a sigh of relief, she was unharmed. Tom couldn’t think of what to say, how could he tell his young daughter that her mother was dead?