The nippy wind that blows off the world famous murky brown river called the Thames leads me to pulling my black trench coat closer around my neck and ears. Despite the cloudy dark skies, I wear a large pair of sunglasses that cover the majority of the middle of my face. Leather gloves coat my fingers and hands as they seat nicely in my deep pockets. My hair remains down with the strands closest to my face being allowed to flow freely with the wind.
I walk with the river to my left and the busy city to my right. Up ahead I can see the large cherry blossom tree the informant was on about. I look up and to my left as Big Ben comes into view, it's large circular arms reading 9 am. However I've been here for much longer only on the opposite side of the river looking across. The informant has been here for fifteen minutes and hasn't spoken to any one, touched his phone or his ear. His body movements and behaviour seem to be relaxed and controlled, he doesn't seem nervous. Satisfied that this isn't a set up I crossed the bridge at a leisurely pace and moved with the crowds as much as possible. Right now I'm in a group of maybe 10 people who wish to walk down the path that sits in-between the slow flowing river and the double decker bus filled streets. Up ahead my eyes scan the benches and soon see the young informant in the same position. The bench remains clear to his side so I continue on my way, passing him in the process. I slide to the right and sit down on the chair keeping my glasses on and my head forward.
"Eyes forward please" I start off and the young man who bears a tailored suit and smart glasses nods back.
"What information would you like?" He asks in a strong native London accent, posh accent might I add.
"His schedule, times, regular trips" I rhyme off as I watch the various people stroll by many preoccupied on their phones. In the corner of my eye my attention is always focused on the informant, he knows not to look at me. He seems professional, interesting for a employee of a money agency.
"He leaves his home in Notting Hill at 7:45 am every morning from Monday to Friday. This is also the only time he leaves somewhere unescorted however guards are waiting for him at the end of his garden with a armoured car. From here he goes to Pascals Coffee Shop in Kensington to get a large Americano with two brown sugar cubes. Next he heads to Westminster where he spends the day leaving only once to grab lunch at a salad bar nearby. He leaves Westminster around 4pm and arrives home around 5pm" The informant flawlessly gives me all the details while keeping his voice low enough to avoid eavesdroppers.
"Does he deviate from that at any time or does he leave the house after 5 pm at all?" I quickly ask back keeping my eyes scanned on the passer-bys.
"On Mondays and Wednesdays he goes for a 8 kilometre run around the parks near his house but has guards running with him as well as others dotted around the route which never changes. On Fridays he brings his son to soccer practice but once again he and his son are heavily protected" The young man speaks with an intense amount of knowledge. By this time I have already sussed out the best and worse times to strike but more recon and research is needed.
"Ok, last question. Are the guards armed?" I ask a pretty prominent question that could greatly effect the outcome of this task.
"His two closest guards do, the bald six-four man and the bearded man with the neck tattoo" James Bonds assistant tells me. I nod and think that's all I have.
"Tell your employer i'm grateful for their co-operation. It will be done in two days from now, they contact me when it's finished. I'm sure it will make the news" I say to the man, standard procedure for me.
"I'll be sure to do just that" he replies which a strange amount of enthusiasm in his voice. Normally when I meet someone I ask that they leave first so they can't watch me as I walk off but I don't need to tell this guy. He rises from the chair along with his briefcase and crosses in front of me joining the traffic of people. I don't wait around so I quickly stand up and walk off to the left in the opposite direction. Even if he was to chance a sly look back at me I would be long gone, merged into the millions of people who live and work in the city not including the tourists who flock here all year around.
As I cross streets and avoid lost tourists who wander aimlessly through the streets, I think about the time. It's 9:28 am, I still have time to do some recon today. I can watch his afternoon routine which is important because it's then that I plan to strike.
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YOU ARE READING
The Girl Behind The Bullets
Action~BOOK TWO~ It's been five and half months since the events in Cuba, since me, The Black Swan, escaped again. I left The Company, it was the best decision for me and the company so now I'm free lance. People pay me to get the job done and that's h...
