Chapter 1
Around 1.5 miles away was a construction site giving shape to a world class skyscraper. With the skeleton almost developed, the place was surrounded by small manufacturing units which would fade away with time as a result of the glorious upcoming projects.
On its 25th floor the wind was blowing very strong, sheets of metal, cement bags, metal screws were spread across the floor in a mess, empty cans of plastics rolled with the wind producing irritating commotion and plastic sheets fluttered like wings. A man 6’ 2” tall with broad muscular shoulders and a body built to face extreme conditions of pain and misery stood there with preying eyes in his black combat gear and lightweight rubber-soled boots.
He carried a SVD, the sniper was first used by the Soviet Union in 1963, a gas operated sniper rifle, targets in low light and designed as a squad support weapon. It was built to take out the enemies across a wide range with ease, only when handled by experienced hands.
He walked over to the edge of the northern side of the floor and looked out in the direction where his target was located. He leaned down to the floor and placed his weapon right before him holding the lower front side of the weapon with one, and the trigger gear with the other. He once again checked the suppressor on the front to avoid any alarming noises. His right shoulder carried and supported the stock of the sniper which was the heaviest part. He pointed the rifle towards the target; he adjusted his eyes into the scope of the sniper as he reached for his aim.
Jane was sitting on the edge of her bed, smoking. She appeared to be lost in some long last ecstasy without the faintest idea of the immediate danger she was in that was reaching close with every second. The windows bare, her enemy marked her keenly for the very last time like a vigilant tiger before bringing an end to his hunger and a life.
Watching her smoke, revived his memory of the troublesome past where he had been so unaware, careless and naive with the lady who wrecked him up whenever she liked to. But now it was all going to change.
He zeroed in on his target, and just before he pulled the trigger, a large plastic sheet came rolling with the heavy wind and wrapped itself onto the barrel of the rifle disturbing its initial position. The bullet missed the target and penetrated the wall of the pool creating a crack in the tile. The rifle went out of balance when the sheet fell over it; he injured his right shoulder from the recoil of the misfired bullet. Due to the long range, any minute diversion increased the angle of the trajectory of the bullet in multitudes.
He angrily looked around to be clear. He took position for another aim and tried to forget about the enduring pain that was caused by lifting the weapon. The next bullet darted through the weapon, straight towards the aim, breaking the window glass, sharply piercing in the head of Mrs. Jane Hudson.
In a second, it all went dark and a final peaceful silence met her as she fell down to the floor with the blood rushing out, leaving trails and splatter of blood on the opposite wall, the bed and the furniture, caused by the powerful impact of the bullet.
He contemplated the moment by staring at the dead body, while the blood rushed out of her head painting the floor blood red. He dismantled the rifle, dressed himself up in casuals and prepared to leave the building. Within two minutes he took a cab and fled the area with his leather duffel bag that carried his equipment and suit.
The man could finally rest and live in peace.
