A Partner’s Hidden Life


He checked the rifle and its scope one final time. It was dusk and too early to use a night scope. Besides his accuracy was better with a regular sight. Everything was as it should be.

He was familiar with the rifle sitting on the tripod in front of him. It was a Czech made CZ 700 M1. It was a fine weapon, though he would have preferred to use his own. But after 9/11 that was impossible. Saying one weapon was better than another was more a matter of personal taste. The Czech model would work fine for his purposes and his contract would never know the difference.

He took a deep breath to calm his muscles and to reduce his heart rate. He had over the years developed a routine to steady his nerves. Within his small fraternity of professionals, everyone had developed a very defined preparation process and he was certainly no exception. He checked his watch confirming it was about time. He again breathed deeply to calm himself. He would certainly be glad when this particular job was over. He couldn’t put his finger on it but something just wasn’t right.

He had received the usual email containing a series of letters and numbers. The first part of the series would direct him to a location where he would find a locker key. The rest of the code would tell him where the locker was. Usually, the locker was located at an airport, train or bus station. This was one of the usual times. Inside the locker he found an envelope containing instructions as to what was expected of him, a picture of the person sanctioned, cash and keys to a car. He never knew specifically why the target had been selected. From prior experience he knew they all deserved die. Some more than others, but at the end of the day, dead was dead. This knowledge kept it simple for him. He simply had a job to do, a job at which he was very good.

He had no moral compunctions about his work. He saw himself as a patriot, a man of action, doing something that badly needed being done. If it had been left up to those pantywaists in Washington nothing would have been done. He couldn’t understand how they could be so blind. Politicians cared only for the power not the country. Thankfully, there were like-minded men and women willing to do what it took. The United States was under attack. It was bad enough that enemies from outside the country were trying to destroy America. Even more appalling were the traitors who did their bidding here at home for money. He could understand those who acted upon a belief or ideology; even if it was in some perverted form. He believed the kind of person who would sell out for money was the lowest form of life. Scum in every sense of the word.

He re-checked his watch. The target should have been here by now.