The Redaction Chronicles

Chapter 1-2

Game onThe final gunman was in position behind a marble pillar, but, with the execution of his team members, he had quickly sprung into action, darting for cover. It was only the tall assassin who remained stock still. He simply raised his weapon and pointed it in the direction of where the shots from the balcony had been fired from. He held his fire as, from that position, he wouldn"t have been able to see the person shooting down on him anyway. Instead, he simply held the weapon in place, finger ready on the trigger in case a target presented itself.

He looks like he doesn"t care if he could be killed or not. That"s some control, reflected Gorilla. Seconds later, he heard the heavy pounding of footsteps on the staircase that led to the upper balcony.

He looks like he doesn"t care if he could be killed or not. That"s some controlGorilla knew what was coming. He was ready. He simply rolled onto his back, braced his feet against the floor, knees bent, and punched out the H&K two-handed along the length of his body, between the "V" made by his thighs. His trigger finger was ready.

A figure wearing sunglasses and business suit emerged at speed towards the top of the staircase. Gorilla just had enough time to make out the shape of an unidentified machine-pistol before he fired, taking out the front of the gunman"s cranium. The killer slithered to the floor and Gorilla heard the sickening thuds of his body rolling slowly back down the staircase.

With the last gunman down, Gorilla rolled onto his stomach, then nimbly jerked his body up so that he was kneeling, protected behind the stone balustrade. He risked a glance and just in time caught the back of the tall assassin moving out through the service exit. As an afterthought, the man discarded the balaclava over his shoulder and went on his way, out into the night.

Gorilla Grant was up and running, hitting the staircase, taking the steps three at a time, one hand guiding him on the handrail and one hand holding the H&K out front as a precaution. He hit the lower floor running, dodging in and out of the bodies and heading for the same service exit that the assassin had used. He shoulder-barged the exterior door open, his weapon up and searching for targets.

The service exit led out into a side street at the rear of the Casino. He led with his pistol up and ready, scanning the dark street ahead of him. Nothing. Gorilla moved quickly, expertly, knowing that time was of the essence here. He searched the corners of the adjacent doorways, but again, nothing.

He had a simple choice – left or right? The right led into a warren of side streets that made up the bulk of the buildings in the centre of Nice. The left led to the seafront and the beach. His reasoning told him that it should be to the right. After all, the assassin could get lost in the mazelike streets relatively easily, especially in the dark. But… there was something nagging at him. Call it a gut instinct, and Gorilla Grant liked gut instincts; they had kept him alive on many occasions.

He paused for a second, slowed his breathing and listened calmly. Nothing… nothing…. nothing… and then there it was – footsteps moving at speed. In the distance for sure, faint, but heading off to his left, to the beach, to an escape route.

His instincts took over immediately. He removed the old magazine from the H&K and slammed in a full one. A quick check to ensure that the weapon had a round in the chamber and he was off, running as fast as he could, determined to catch his quarry.

* * *

The speedboat that was waiting for the assassin was a Phantom Venom 4-seater. It was small and it was fast and Gorilla knew that if the tall assassin reached his escape vessel, he would be gone within seconds.

Gorilla had made it to the end of the dark side street and he burst onto the brightly lit main seafront. The first thing that he was aware of was the small number of passers-by coming to look at the smoke drifting up from the casino windows and, in the distance, the blare of sirens. The second thing was the dead DST bodyguards strewn over the official vehicles. Then his eyes sought out his target, the tall assassin. The man, his features still hidden to Gorilla, was walking calmly and purposefully down onto the beach and towards the waiting speedboat that was bobbing in the surf.

No f*****g way, sunshine, thought Gorilla. You may think you have control of this, but I"m here to spoil your day.

No f*****g way, sunshineYou may think you have control of this, but I"m here to spoil your dayGorilla sprinted across the road, ignoring the late-night revellers who gawped at the sight of an armed man running at night, and jumped down onto the sand no more than twenty feet away from the assassin. Gorilla had the H&K P9 up and aimed. He had the back of the unknown assassin in his sights. He was lined up and ready when suddenly, the assassin did the strangest thing. It was almost as if he knew that Gorilla was there – almost as if he was expecting him. The assassin turned and threw what Gorilla thought was a grenade.

Gorilla instinctively flinched and dived off to the side, landing hard on the sand, trying to avoid the inevitable shrapnel from the explosion. But this was no grenade that could kill and m**m. At the last minute, Gorilla was aware of a small black object, the size of a soup can, landing mere feet away from him. Then instantly, there was a loud bang and a flash of blinding white light and, for the second time that night, Gorilla Grant"s hearing and senses were temporarily knocked out. It was a stun grenade; non-lethal but effective, designed to disorientate, nothing more.

Seconds later, the tall figure was standing over him, a silhouette against the white of the moon. The voice, when it spoke, was surprisingly deep, cultured and accented, like that of a European gentleman addressing an underling. Its tone was kind but authoritative.

“I understand that you are the new me?” said the assassin.

youmeGorilla, his hearing starting to return but still fading in and out, managed to make out the words, “the new me”. What did that mean? He flicked his head around and saw his H&K P9 lying on the sand next to him. If he was fast, he could reach it. He felt sure he could. He could end this now!

“I don"t take too kindly to people trying to take my crown. It has been earned over many years and it is not for you to take, Gorilla Grant,” said the assassin. Gorilla inched his hand along in the sand… inches away from the pistol… within reach, really… but his eyes never left the outline of the tall man standing above him.

“Young upstarts must be taught a lesson. So here, let me be your teacher for tonight.”

The shot was fast and literally came out of nowhere. Gorilla had been aware of the flicking of the elbows, a single flash as the g*n barked, and then the pain in his hand. The pain was searing and he lost his mind and howled – whether in fury or agony, even he did not know. His hand! The bastard had put a 9mm sized hole in the back of his hand! Gorilla knew instantly what that meant. Small arms specialists like him with mangled hands were done, over, retired. Dead.

handThrough tear-filled eyes, he glared at the assassin above him. “Come on, you bastard, just finish it. You"ve taken my hand so finish me off for good. Bullet to the head. Just get on with it,” said Gorilla, snarling.

The assassin stared for a moment longer, as if unsure what to do, then lowered the g*n and slipped it beneath his jacket. He remained staring down at his prey, considering the bloodstained man before him. The moment of calm was broken by the inevitable blare of police and ambulance sirens in the streets above, heading to the c*****e at the casino. The assassin picked up the discarded H&K P9 and threw it wildly behind him, out into the surf.

“Try to follow me and you die, Grant. You have my word on that,” he warned.

Then slowly, calmly, he began to walk out into the surf, the water lapping around his waist as he reached the boat. A second figure rose and held out a hand, hoisting the assassin over the side and into the body of the vessel. There was a gunning of the engines as it started to move away from the shore. The figure of the assassin stood proud, unafraid and in silhouette against the dark moonlit night.

Why didn"t he kill me? wondered Gorilla. He had no answers. All he had was agonising pain and the realisation that he had been bested. He could do no more than watch as the speedboat began to gather pace and within seconds, it had disappeared into the night.

Why didn"t he kill me?