A Game for Assassins (The Redaction Chronicles Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: James Quinn
secretary from the admin section. The team quickly ruled him out and minutes later, he was seen walking towards the park, hand in hand with a young flaxen-haired girl who was definitely not his wife.
Bajek glanced at his watch, it was 4.45p.m., the light was starting to fade and the zoo would be closed within the hour. Maybe they were in for a no-show, or maybe the spy had picked up on the surveillance and decided to abort the emptying of the letter box, which meant that he might be stuck walking around the zoo again tomorrow. Damn.
He heaved his heavy frame off the seat and decided on another series of ambles around his route, pushing the pram, and feigning interest in the limited selection of animals the zoo had to offer. He completed one circuit, returned for a second, and it was at the commencement of his third, and what he hoped would be final rotation around the zoo, when he heard the sound of the whistle.
The whistles had been issued to all members of the team and were the equivalent of an early warning system. Not especially cutting edge, but effective nonetheless. “You see him – you blow the whistle. Got it?” Krivitsky had warned at the briefing session.
Bajek turned his head in the direction of the peal. At first he saw nothing – just the zoo in its familiar state, visitors examining the animal enclosures. Normality. Then he saw a movement. A man of similar age to him, dark haired and skinny compared to Bajek's bulk, dressed in a workman's overalls and jacket, running at full pelt from the direction of the dead letter box, and seemingly, heading towards the main pathway which led to one of the exit points.
Closely behind the runner, although with no chance of ever catching his quarry, was Stefan, the oldest member of the surveillance team, sporting a bloodied nose. Poor old Stefan had one hand pressed to his nose, trying in vain to stem the flow of blood, and the other swinging, in an effort to propel him forward faster. It appeared the spy hadn't wanted to be taken and had fought back.
Then all the whistles seemed to be blowing at once, alerting the rest of the team to move in, and it was then that Bajek seized his chance. He wasn't a natural runner, nor was he particularly fit despite his youth, but he did have one vital advantage. He was standing at a 45-degree angle to where the spy would be in a matter of moments. If he could cut across the grass he would be able to intersect the runner's route, blindside him and bring the man down with a body charge. Bajek's bulk would be no match for the thinner man; he would simply knock him off his feet.
The pram which had been his surveillance partner for the past few hours was flung, discarded, toy baby and all, and he was off! Pumping his arms, thrusting his legs along to propel him forward, he caught sight of the man from the corner of his eye. It was a race for survival. Bajek for his chances of promotion and escape from his prison-like desk; the spy, he was sure, for his life and liberty. Ten seconds to go, he was sure he could make it…
Five seconds to collision. Bajek, the hero of the service, the man who brought down a ruthless western spy… blood is pumping in his ears… the only sound he can hear is the noise of his heart thundering…
He can see the man clearly; young, certainly, but with a tough, handsome face… three seconds, almost…
But then something strange happened. The man seemed to trip, stumble, but then regained his balance. Bajek nearly has a hand on the spy's jacket collar when he finally hears the report.
At first, Bajek becomes aware of the Russian shouting, in fact, screaming would be a more accurate description. Then the crash of numerous rounds being fired, the 'whizz' of bullets passing by him, the screech of the caged animals as they react with fear. Then the spy seems to stagger – at least to Bajek – but still the gunfire continues.
Who the hell had a gun on the team?
Bajek thinks.
I thought we all had
Bajek glanced at his watch, it was 4.45p.m., the light was starting to fade and the zoo would be closed within the hour. Maybe they were in for a no-show, or maybe the spy had picked up on the surveillance and decided to abort the emptying of the letter box, which meant that he might be stuck walking around the zoo again tomorrow. Damn.
He heaved his heavy frame off the seat and decided on another series of ambles around his route, pushing the pram, and feigning interest in the limited selection of animals the zoo had to offer. He completed one circuit, returned for a second, and it was at the commencement of his third, and what he hoped would be final rotation around the zoo, when he heard the sound of the whistle.
The whistles had been issued to all members of the team and were the equivalent of an early warning system. Not especially cutting edge, but effective nonetheless. “You see him – you blow the whistle. Got it?” Krivitsky had warned at the briefing session.
Bajek turned his head in the direction of the peal. At first he saw nothing – just the zoo in its familiar state, visitors examining the animal enclosures. Normality. Then he saw a movement. A man of similar age to him, dark haired and skinny compared to Bajek's bulk, dressed in a workman's overalls and jacket, running at full pelt from the direction of the dead letter box, and seemingly, heading towards the main pathway which led to one of the exit points.
Closely behind the runner, although with no chance of ever catching his quarry, was Stefan, the oldest member of the surveillance team, sporting a bloodied nose. Poor old Stefan had one hand pressed to his nose, trying in vain to stem the flow of blood, and the other swinging, in an effort to propel him forward faster. It appeared the spy hadn't wanted to be taken and had fought back.
Then all the whistles seemed to be blowing at once, alerting the rest of the team to move in, and it was then that Bajek seized his chance. He wasn't a natural runner, nor was he particularly fit despite his youth, but he did have one vital advantage. He was standing at a 45-degree angle to where the spy would be in a matter of moments. If he could cut across the grass he would be able to intersect the runner's route, blindside him and bring the man down with a body charge. Bajek's bulk would be no match for the thinner man; he would simply knock him off his feet.
The pram which had been his surveillance partner for the past few hours was flung, discarded, toy baby and all, and he was off! Pumping his arms, thrusting his legs along to propel him forward, he caught sight of the man from the corner of his eye. It was a race for survival. Bajek for his chances of promotion and escape from his prison-like desk; the spy, he was sure, for his life and liberty. Ten seconds to go, he was sure he could make it…
Five seconds to collision. Bajek, the hero of the service, the man who brought down a ruthless western spy… blood is pumping in his ears… the only sound he can hear is the noise of his heart thundering…
He can see the man clearly; young, certainly, but with a tough, handsome face… three seconds, almost…
But then something strange happened. The man seemed to trip, stumble, but then regained his balance. Bajek nearly has a hand on the spy's jacket collar when he finally hears the report.
At first, Bajek becomes aware of the Russian shouting, in fact, screaming would be a more accurate description. Then the crash of numerous rounds being fired, the 'whizz' of bullets passing by him, the screech of the caged animals as they react with fear. Then the spy seems to stagger – at least to Bajek – but still the gunfire continues.
Who the hell had a gun on the team?
Bajek thinks.
I thought we all had
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