The Murder Trail

Chapter 7

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iusethings

The assassin sat on the sofa in the living room of his house, lovingly caressing the sleek frame of his jet black Heckler & Koch pistol. Being the gun he got on his very first job as an assassin, the pistol was of great sentimental value to him, fitting for a top-notch killer. He had gotten this gun back in 1995, as a first-timer to the job. It had never failed him since. He did not always use this gun for certain jobs, however, such as for this particular job, but changed them as his client would like him to. His prowess in assassination had made him especially popular among the users of the Deep Web. Reviews about his services were so good that the International Assassin's Association gave him a never-heard-before 10 star rating, which only made him ever more popular and richer. It's no wonder that the Society chose me, because they would only ask a 10 star killer to do their work. Now, he only had to wait for orders from the man who called himself the Master.

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The commandant paced around in his sparsely furnished office. He was not a man who liked to decorate his working quarters, as he found them highly distracting. To a man who loved efficiency like a sibling, distractions of any form were not tolerated by him. The thing that was bothering him at this point were the calls that he had received from the various media channels of the country. What would I say to them, that I failed to find the killer of the financial minister because of the fact that the world is ruled by two rivalling secret societies that are way too powerful for a country to handle? People would certainly think that I have gone off the hook, and my opponents will use that to convince the policing minister to sack me. My social image will tarnish and only shards of my reputation will be left. I cannot let 40 years of dedicated work go down the drain like this. I have to find something else to say. He decided to leave this for later, and move on to more pressing matters, such as the case that was before him.

Meanwhile, Larry was pacing around the living room in his house, thinking deeply about the case. The commandant had already told him that the media had found out about the murder. He was getting worried about this. They had to find the murderer of the finance minister within the day, or they would face public shaming. Then, it hit him. He knew some people who worked as Members of Parliament. They could well be a member of the Organization. They are very likely to have information related to the Society and how it runs. He rushed to the phone and dialed the number of the commandant.

The phone rang in the commandant's office. The commandant got up from his chair and walked towards the phone. He picked it up, and immediately heard the voice of Larry, breathless with excitement. "Commandant, Commandant, I got it!"

"Got what?" the commandant asked, curious.

"How to move forward from this position in the case. Assuming that this country is indeed ruled by the Organization, and they indeed have a rivalry with another secret society called the Society, and the finance minister is indeed a member of the Organization, we can ask some influential MPs or ministers that we have connections with to give us information about the Organization and whatever they know about the Society," Larry replied in one breath. The commandant's eyes widened in understanding. "Do you know any influential MPs or ministers?" he asked, relieved to have found another lead to solve the case. The entire team sorely needed these. "Yes, but they are not so influential. I will just come over and contact them with their phone numbers. I have them with me right now. Should I call Jennifer too?" Larry replied.

"Ok and yes."

Larry quickly called Jennifer and told her to come. He left the house, got into his Mercedes GLC coupe and zoomed off towards the imposing edifice that was called the Police HQ.

While the assassin was deep in thought about the events that provided him with such an honor of working with the largest secret society in the world, a familiar sound snapped him back to reality. He looked to the table in front of the sofa which he was sitting on. His Samsung S6 Edge was ringing next to his Note 7, which he owned for bombing purposes. It was great that such things were allowed on airports. He reached out to the phone and asked it. The German accent of the Master was unmistakable.

"Yes, Master. What do you want me to do?" the assassin asked, itching to get on the job again.

"I have found that the commandant, his aide and a detective that they have hired will be on their way to the Parliament House within the hour. I need you to use the explosive-enriched Note 7 that I have given you, and tie it to the block of C4 that I have provided. Connect it to the timed power bank that can discharge at 100 amps to make it explode. Do it as near to the Prime minister's chair as you can. Got it?"

"Yes, but I don't plant bombs and run Master. I stay in the thick of things. I do not like this. You can get another guy from your huge Society to do it, can't you?"

On hearing this, the voice of the Master became dangerously slow and hair-raisingly cold. "If you do not do this or ask any questions or complain, I will kick your ratings down to a 1 star since you do not follow orders that have so explicitly been given to you. I will also cut your pay by a hundred thousand dollars."

That brought the assassin to his senses. "Alright, Master, I shall do as you say. I should do it before they arrive, right?"

"Yes. Finally you are back to your senses. And yes, do it before they come."

The assassin nodded and kept the phone. He immediately started busying himself with preparation for the attacks.