DAY 0
The black-clad man lay prone on the roof, a thick blanket under him, the barrel of his rifle well back from the edge of the building. A drizzle had begun, triggering a faint smile at his earlier decision to opt for setting up under the large heat extraction unit. He let the distracting thought pass by him.
The telescopic camera clamped on his rifle was trained on the building opposite, showing a section of wall with a window on the third floor. A building was much the same as the other run of commercial structures lining the street, brick and metal blocks thrown up in the 70s, each holding a warren of companies and enterprises, mostly silent now given the late hour.
"Sit rep, I have eyes on, Control," said a quiet voice through his mic. It was Matty the spotter. "I have eyes too, again no clear shot Control," replied the man with the rifle. Looking through the thermal imaging camera, he could see three clear heat signatures, one white-lit figure crouching, moving slowly, and the other two lying still on the floor. The target, the one crouching, had still not passed the window.
"If that bastard so much as pops his head up, take the shot Bravo. I repeat, take the shot." The voice of acting SIO, Davis is clear.
"Delta team, sit rep?"
"It's a bloody warren down here gov. We needed those schematics, over."
"Get that power cut. Come on Delta, pull your finger out. We need to slow this bastard down"
"Sit rep, one of the heat signatures is changing Control."
"I confirm, Control. We're losing one of them."
"Fuck! That bastard. Will someone–" says Davis.
"He's standing Control."
"I confirm Control. He walking–"
"Three seconds" begins Matty "Two seconds, one second."
The sound from the high-powered rifle was not a loud crack. Anyone walking by along the street below might have failed to recognize it.
"Miss" came the voice of Matty.
A second shot was fired.
"That's a hit. Tango's down. Say again, Tango's down."
In the room opposite, plastic sheets cover the floor and walls, beyond a wooden table holding many laptop screens. The Wolf stops walking and turns towards the window at the odd clinking sound. Moments later, the second round hits his left eyeball, which explodes in the confined space of his eye socket as the round rips through it, then bone and brain, before lodging in the wall twelve feet beyond.
***
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Flowers of a Wolf
Mystery / ThrillerIn the City of London, a serial killer stalks the streets of the financial district. The body count stands at four already, each victim cut with a signature mark. Detective Rawford and the investigation team give chase, but this new Ripper for the 2...
