* * * * *
Buck waddled off the ferry at the intermediate stop in France. It wasn’t clear whether his stagger was due to the choppy trip across the channel or to his medication of choice. He quickly found a Web-term and punched in the recipe that he bought from the boys. The boys came up short, less the passenger list but Buck wasn’t sure he would need it.
As advertised, the view of the gate popped up bordered by various peripheral data. A number of passengers had already disembarked. Buck would have to do his best with what was left. One by one the passengers filed past the camera. One by one Buck’s trained eye disqualified them.
Then into view walked his mark. “Bingo!” he muttered. “You poor bastard, I’ve got you now.” With an idea of the traveler’s general character and the new sweatshirt, the ID was a slam-dunk. A purchase had been made matching the description of the sweatshirt. A flush prickled the neck of the disheveled predator. The chase had just heated up and fresh blood began to course through his veins.
Switching camera views to a scanning camera in the area, Buck watched as the mark met another man in a business suit. Together they walked toward the baggage area.
As the last boarding horn from the ferry blew, Buck saw the two men stepping in line at the terminal coffee shop. With luck Buck would catch up to them before they left the terminal.
Buck shuffled onto the ferry just as the ramp was about to be withdrawn and stowed for departure. He moved to a seat on the top deck, out in the mist and wind. Here he could avoid the prying eyes of the other passengers huddled in the enclosed lower decks. Here he could prepare to perfect his trade. With his blood pressure rising and his mind building in excitement, he hardly noticed the brisk wind and occasional mist spraying over the port side railing.
The ferry made good time. In less then thirty minutes they were pulling into the breakwater at Brugge. A shiver of excitement took twenty years off Buck’s battered body. He could taste success. The money had escaped his hunger for the moment. He would have done this for free but that fact would stay between him and his lust for the kill.
The directive stated that if the hit could not be made without drawing major attention then Buck was directed to call in a laser strike using the coordinates that he would supply. Buck hated this high tech option. It robbed him of the satisfaction of the personal touch that gave him purpose.
At a quickened waddle Buck dragged his burden down the ramp and toward the terminal. His eyes scanned for the first sign of where his prey was eating. Ricocheting through the glass doors Buck gasped for air. He could see the café sign and slowed to avoid detection and to wheeze life back into his battered frame.
He set his luggage down near the café to take stock of the situation. His mark sat near the wall toward the back of the dinning area. He faced his companion. The two men were finishing up their meal and chatting. Several tables were occupied nearby but his passing would likely go unnoticed.
The acquisition protocol called for final verification and authorization from ‘the sponsor’. To facilitate that he had to confirm his mark’s location with an estimate based on his own GPS location. ‘The sponsor’ would then perform an implant scan of the area and determine the viability of the hit based on evidence of peripheral consequence. They wanted to localize the mess and minimize the social disruption and verify that no implant was detected at the specified location.
Buck selected his method of termination.
His weapon of choice was the Spearite, a small vacuum powered device camouflaged as a fountain pen. His blunder bust would have to wait for another day.
He was intrigued with this high tech peashooter but he would miss the mess that his 45 would have made, and the glory of the thunder. But now this was all about finesse, money and not getting snagged in local administrivia.
The weapon consisted of a foam covered quartz glass sleeve. The bore of the sleeve was ground to within .5 microns of the matching hollow ceramic plunger. The plunger in turn was tethered to a plastic guillotine using a spider silk lanyard. At the delivery end of the sleeve, a thin film formed a vacuum seal. Embedded in the leading surface of the plunger was a hollow glass spear, not much larger than a whisker. The spear contained a fast acting nerve agent. A paraffin film sealed the pores of the spear to prevent the premature evaporation of the nerve agent. A small bead of silicon gel sealed the plunger to the sleeve. The vacuum within the sleeve would remain for months if necessary. The triggering of the guillotine would sever the silk lanyard allowing the plunger to be driven along the sleeve by the force of the inrushing air. The atmospheric pressure would force the plunger to accelerate unimpeded by any air within the sleeve. It would approach the speed of sound in less than a millisecond. As the plunger approaches the end of the sleeve it will encounter a small annular ridge which will pulverize the plunger into a silicon puff of dust, releasing the spear to continue on alone. That would penetrate the film and enter the mark’s body, even through layers of cloth. The whole process of delivery occurs without a noticeable report; something like the crackle of chewing gum.
All that remains of the non-metallic weapon is a foam insulated glass sleeve encased to look like a writing pen and a knit of spider silk.
He punched in the estimated location of his mark based on his own location as he made his initial pass. He then submitted the data for processing and authorization. The screen on his hand held unit blinked and a dialogue box popped up indicating that the signal acquisition was in process. Buck waited impatiently.
He watched as his mark began to shift to extract his wallet. Time was growing short. A discussion ensued over who would pay. The suited man won the ‘shell-out-falter’ and motioned to the waitress for the check.
The screen continued to blink. It was now or never. This was a sure hit. This would be an easy hit. This would qualify for a good bonus. In another few seconds his mark would be on the move and things would become more difficult.
It was a one shot device and required that Buck pass as close as possible to assure a clean hit despite the slightly awkward aim.
The penetration of the spear vial may not be noticed by the mark unless a direct hit on a bone was felt. This device delivered without recoil; nothing but an infinitesimally small clap of muffled micro-thunder. Buck would be four or five paces beyond the mark before convulsions ensued. This is going to be sweet, he thought.
Buck looked down at his hand-held; it still flashed ‘SEARCHING’. Piss on it, he winced. The bill was paid; the men were exchanging final words before getting up. Buck squirmed with impatience. He would have to make an executive decision now if this were going to succeed. With a swell of heat building in his neck, he cocked the triggering mechanism. Move!
A prickly tingle rose up Buck’s spine, his ears began to ring and his focus narrowed to a pinpoint. His feet were on automatic, and his hand carefully cradled the pen in preparation for imminent delivery.
With surprising speed, he moved into position to make his delivery pass. He knew the number of steps and which foot would be leading as he passed the launch point. He began his pass with the focus of a leopard starting his charge. Nothing could stop him now; not even the screen change on his hand-held.
Buck’s thumb rested against the trigger mechanism. He timed the swing of his arm to match the target point and paused to touch it just long enough to gain a precision hit yet light enough to be excused. He pressed the trigger as he brush passed his still seated mark. With a sound easily mistaken as the crackling of gum, and a very slight jerk in reaction to the penetration, the evil deed was done.
Without any hesitation in his stride, Buck continued out of the area. He glanced back after about ten paces to see his mark bowing his head as if to say grace and then beginning to convulse.
A flush passed over Buck’s face and a flourish of relief and pride filled his chest. Again he glanced back, to see the s
udden concern of the associate as the hapless victim began to clear the table in his headlong topple to the floor. Everyone’s eyes turned to fix on the death kneel, ignoring the little fat man gathering his luggage and walking away.
His steps belied his physical health as he confidently lengthened his stride. Near the front entrance to the terminal Buck collapsed into a leather couch in a lounge. A drink was in order. A deep sigh issued from his throat as he let the first gulp of “medicine” wash away any prickle of doubt. He looked out through the broad glass panels and realized the awesome expertise with which he had dispatched his mark. The bonus was in the bag.
Soon he would be able to relax to the gentle sway of the Wave-Schooner on the trip home.
First he had to gather himself and straighten the debris of his blitz. He looked down at his hand-held to close out the link. The dialogue box was no longer flashing. In its place was a red block with the words ABORT ACQUISITION! “’Abort acquisition!’ What the hell was that?” Buck’s eyes bulged in disbelief. Perhaps he didn’t understand; certainly there was an explanation. He selected the ‘detail icon’ and waited for the selection to fill the screen.
‘ABORT ACQUISITION – INVALID TARGET. The intended target possesses a valid and active implant. DO NOT PROCEED. TAKE NO FURTHER ACTION AGAINST THIS INDIVIDUAL. Acknowledge receipt of transmission.’ Buck hesitated for a moment before selecting the ‘Acknowledge’ icon.
What was Buck into this time? Had he screwed up yet again? What was going on? He couldn’t have waited; the mark would have gotten away; ignoring the fact that he wasn’t the actual mark, and he wouldn’t have escaped the predator’s grasp had he been the mark.
Buck’s mind raced through the consequences and options like a slide show in a death throe. He had to get a grip. The remaining shots of whiskey found no resistance. The salvation of the elixir began to take hold, besides there was nothing left but another blot on his record. But then his mark would likely be declared dead of a heart attack. No one would ever question the cause; maybe not even the UNIS.