Sitting in my usual seat, Melissa slid a picture of a beautiful woman across the desk. I picked it up and whistled. “Whoa. She is a looker Melissa, but why do I care?”
Melissa cocked an eyebrow, but saved her snide comment. “Her name is Megan Childs. She's an assassin.”
Cocking an eyebrow of my own, I waited for her to continue. She slid a thin folder to me and I opened it to see a picture of the Chicago Chief Of Police.
When I looked up, questions in my eyes, Melissa went on. “The chief will be at a rally tonight campaigning for re-election. She has been contracted to kill him, and I know where she has decided to take her shot from. I want you to stop her.”
In disbelief, I stared at her for a moment. “You're serious aren't you?”
She stared back. “Am I ever anything but?”
Accepting that, I asked, “What else can you tell me about her?”
“She is one of the foremost assassins in America. Not much more is known about her, so there isn't much more to tell you. Except that she will be taking her shot from here.”
She laid a finger on a picture of a clock tower about eight hundred yards from the park.
Rising from my chair, I slipped the folder under my arm and said the last thing on my mind. “I've never hit a girl Melissa. I don't know how you expect me to do this one.”
She just looked at me for a second. “And what do you call what you did to me when I fought you?”
I laughed while walking to the door. “If you remember correctly darlin, I never hit you.”
Hours later, I stood atop the clock tower in full uniform, against the backdrop of the sky. Looking down at the rally going on a few hundred yards away, I saw the band playing, children laughing and people holding signs with the Chiefs name emblazoned on them. The crackle of glass told me that Megan Childs had entered the small room directly below me. I had brought a glass bottle up the stairs with me and broken it on the inside of the door, to ensure I would hear her once she opened the door and stepped through.
I moved to the edge of the roof and peered over as sounds of a modular rifle being put together wafted up toward me through the small window, then the barrel poked through and rested on the windowsill. I moved back towards the small hatch in the roof that would place me directly behind her. I had oiled the hinges earlier so the hatch would glide open silently.
I stuck my head through the hatch and watched as she pulled a set of earplugs from a rifle case on the ground, placed them in her ears and crouched behind a rifle that looked much bigger than she was. I could tell even with my upside down view that she had an amazing figure, gracious curves, and a thin waist. I gripped the ledge of the hatch and dropped through, hitting the floor seven feet below me with a muted thump. She didn't turn, so I moved into a shadow and leaned on the wall, crossing my arms.
“Now that's a gorgeous sight if I ever saw one,” I said.
YOU ARE READING
Ghost Skills
AcciónDaniel Stevens is a young man who spent most of his life training as a fighter. Alone in Chicago at nineteen years of age, he finds himself saving a convenience store clerk from being robbed and killed. After thwarting the robber in the only way he...
