You Are In My Sights

Methodically he prepared his weaponry for the next day. He had to arrive half an hour before his target was to approach the crest of the hill next to the small lake. The forecast was for minus 10 degrees Celsius the next day. This was going to make the metal on his Nr.2 Steyr SSG 69 sniper rifle a bitch to handle with his bare hands. His camouflage gear was placed ready on the bed next to his in the tiny motel room. He had been in this business long enough that he didn’t need more than three rounds of ammunition to complete his mission. A mission that would allow him to finally take his well-deserved retirement. “Front desk how may I help you Mr. Smith?” the beautiful young receptionist asked. “Would you please call me at 04:00 hours tomorrow morning?” “Yes of course Mr. Smith it would be my pleasure. Is there anything else I could help you with sir?” “No, thankyou”.

Chris Baron felt that he was missing something in his preparation but just couldn’t remember what it was. Laying in his bed he reminisced of all the other targets he had killed. Twenty-five years ago, he was paid fifty thousand for the same job. Today because of the risk of the kill and who was paying he would receive 250,000$. The government of Iceland knew that the mercenary from Russia had arrived and was hired to kill their president. Chris Baron was the best in the business and had no problem killing a person that had already murdered three American Senators in the past five years. The Russian was no other than Igor Ivanov and was known throughout the world for his ruthless killings. Entering his targets homes Ivanov would kill the target and their entire family. Baron was within a split second of falling asleep when a loud knock came at his door. Jumping to his feet he grabbed his 9mm and threw himself up against the wall next to the door. “Who is it, what do you want?” “I’m just a friend that wants to talk.” “I don’t have any friends get out of here.” The person on the other side of the door was however not taking no for an answer. “Mr. Smith (every stranger used the name Smith) I am a lot lizard from the truck stop and just looking for some work. Please sir I have two small children at home and we don’t have anything to eat.” Baron hadn’t had sex in the last six months but found it hard to believe a lot lizard would be knocking at his motel room door at two o’clock in the morning. “Just leave, I’m gay and don’t want to be bothered”. The prostitute ran down the hall and slammed the door. “Finally, maybe I can get some sleep?” he said to himself. By this time, it was 90 minutes before the front desk was to call him. He decided that he would get dressed in his camouflage gear and just grab a power nap in the armchair. He went off to sleep and not twenty minutes later the telephone rang. “Mr. Smith it’s the front desk. It’s four o’clock sir.” “No, it’s three o’clock I still have an hour to sleep.” “No sir, the hour has gone ahead because the we have gone back to Day Light Saving Time.” Baron knew now what he was forgetting. “God damn change of time!” He grabbed his rifle and went to the location that he had determined would give the best shot previously. The morning was colder than he anticipated and the ground was covered with eight inches of snow. The last time he had been to the location was just a day ago but now with the snow everything seemed to be different. He had left a small reflector at the base of a tree to mark the location but it was nowhere to be seen. His camouflage outer wear wasn’t going to give him the upper hand with the ground covered by snow. The Russian was like a well-oiled clock. Every morning he would run his ten kilometers and then go for breakfast. He had been in Iceland for the past three days and Baron knew when and where to find him at 05:00 hours. The sun was starting to crest the hill and the water fowl were landing on the small lake. Baron knew that he had to do something about his otter-wear and decided to strip down to his white long-johns to avoid being seen. “Where is that Russian? He’s never late and I’m freezing my ass off here,” he said to himself. The water fowl suddenly flew away as the wind started to pick up. His hands were freezing along with ever centimeter of his body. He covered his tripod with snow to camouflage it and was holding his hands under his body to keep them warm. “Come on you bastard, I want to kill you now because you’re making me suffer.” His sights were set and the only thing left to do was to pull the trigger back with two pounds of pressure. After 50 minutes Baron was about to leave. His hands were nearly frozen and his eyes were tired from the lack of sleep and the constant starring through the high-powered scope. “Yankee are you looking for me?” The Russian was within fifty-feet from Baron and had his submachine gun pointing directly at him. “I guess like it or not this is my last mission.” “Depends on how you want to do this,” said Ivanov. “What exactly do you mean? Looks like I’m dead one way or the other.” Ivanov lowered his weapon and walked closer to his target. The two carried on brief conversations until Baron felt extremely uncomfortable. “Hey, if you’re going to kill me just get it over.” “Who said I wanted to kill you? I just don’t want to be killed. I know you are to get 250 thousand dollars to kill me. I’m going to get paid 500 thousand dollars for killing that bastard, President. It’s not Russia that’s paying me it’s actually an American millionaire that wants him dead. The President had sex with this guy’s wife and he’s paying me to get rid of him. He’s already had someone in the United States to take out his wife two hours ago.” “Why did you go for your run late this morning?” “Oh hell, the time changed last night didn’t it,” said Ivanov. “I’m glad I’m not the only mercenary that can’t tell time.” Eventually the two were discussing their past and how they nearly killed each other over the past twenty years. “You know Yankee you’re not that bad of fellow. Even if you don’t know how to dress for winter,” laughed Ivanov. As he was reaching down to help the American up from the ground Baron shot him three times in the chest. “You know we could have been friends if I wasn’t going to be paid to kill you,” Baron said to a stunned Ivanov. He approached the Russian only to be shot over ten times in the chest by the Russian’s submachine gun. “Yankee never heard of bullet proof vest?” Within two hours of killing Baron the Russian killed the President and his entire family. He returned to Baron’s body and planted the murder weapon next to his body. The headlines in the newspapers read “American assassin kills Iceland’s President and his entire family.”