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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Crime
- Published: 11/08/2023
Setting Sights
Born 1965, M, from Te Awamutu, New ZealandHe awoke in what seemed to be a hotel room.
A very nice hotel room, if he was honest with himself.
He had, of course, been in many a room like this, but not this one. He wondered where he was. He raised his head and looked around and noted that, thankfully, he was still fully dressed. The bed was, well, huge by bed standards. Silk sheets, fluffy duvet - the works. He ran his hands across the top of the duvet itself and took a moment to enjoy the quality. Whoever had brought him here had very much taken his comfort into consideration, and for that he was surprisingly grateful, given that it was not his choice to be here. He sat up and looked around at his new surroundings. There were flowers on the center table with a bottle of, what looked to be champagne that was being nicely chilled in a silver ice bucket. Thick velvet drapes had been drawn, tied back with an ornate sash to reveal a view that was, quite frankly, extraordinary. It wasn't, however, the room that concerned him though. No.
It was the fact that he had no idea how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was having coffee at Alondra's. Yes, that was it. He had received a text asking him to meet a client there. And that was it.
Coffee. Blackness. Hotel room.
If the coffee had been drugged, it was, like the room he was in, a very expensive and well made drug as it had left him with no headache and no bitter aftertaste. These guys were obviously professionals. Very wealthy professionals.
Another thing to be grateful for.
He got off the bed and wandered around the room, which was, like the bed, huge. Expensive paintings hung from the walls with the mood of the artwork reflected in the light jazz coming from a stereo of which were attached a pair of speakers that would have impressed the guys that put Stonehenge up. It was all rather jolly, if a little mysterious.
In every corner of the room was very discrete and very expensive looking cameras, all with little blinky red lights on them showing that they were working very nicely and that someone on the other end found him interesting enough to watch. He wandered into the bathroom and stopped dead in his tracks, stunned as he had been by the sheer magnitude of the bath. Mirrors covered three of the walls and reflected his image back and forth that, after a while made him feel a little dizzy. He thought it safe to assume that at least one of them was a two-way affair and that there was someone on the other side. He waved at them and hoped, if someone was behind the mirror that they were waving back and thought of the problem this would cause later on when he needed a widdle. Well, he didn't need one now, so that was a problem for later.
He made his way back into the main living area and took another look around. It was very tasteful. Big, but tasteful
There was, of course, the gun.
Like the room, it looked expensive and was set up on some sort of tripod affair. On top of it was a sight that was nearly as big as the gun itself. Clearly, someone expected a target to be hit that was very far away.
"Good morning Angel," said a man's voice.
He jumped a little at the sudden interruption to the melancholy mood, looking around like one of the Muppets in an episode of 'Pigs in Space' as they reacted to the voiceover that announced next week’s installment.
"As you can see, no expense has been spared to make you as comfortable as possible, and the hardware provided is, of course, your weapon of choice"
He looked towards the gun. It was indeed a L115A3 sniper rifle. He shrugged and then looked around the room again to find the source of the hidden voice.
"You’re a hard man to find, Angel," said the voice, the owner of which presumably watched his guest on a collection of CCTV monitors. He was, and the voice's owner smiled to himself and allowed himself a little chuckle at the confused look on his guests face.
"You have a reputation for extreme anonymity, and indeed you are a very clever man - But I sir have spared no expense and have exhausted every resource in finding you"
"How very 'persistent' of you" came his guest's voice, over the small intercom that sat on the desk. It was the same one as used in the show, 'Charlie’s Angels' The watcher was a self confessed fan, more of Charlie than the girls.
"But why am I here - Mister?" asked his guest.
"You may call me Mr. Black, and the reason that you are here Mr. Angel is that you are going to do a little job for me"
"Am I” came a surprised reply. Well, more sarcasm than surprise.
"You are, Mr. Angel," came the reply. "Tell me," he added, "Do you prefer Angel, or Mr. Angel? - Or even Jason"
His guest raised his eyebrows at this, turning down the corners of his mouth. He seemed genuinely impressed by this.
"Yes, I know exactly who you are Mr. Hammond. Your past has caught up with you. Your time in the military, your training via MI5 and onwards to the CIA. and then you vanish into thin air, with only your skill giving any hint that you existed. Thirty-four confirmed hits paid for by men of extreme wealth, all completely unaware of who you are. You hide in the shadows Mr. Angel, but those same shadows have monsters living there too. Monsters such as myself who would stop at nothing to have a man of your skills work for me - Exclusively"
"And why would I do that?" Asked the guest.
"Because we know the name of your wife and child. Even the name of your dog, Everything about this life you have built to protect the real man behind a name that sparks fear into a flame of despair from those knowing that The Angel is coming for them. By the way, Springer? Really?"
"Well, she is a spaniel, so it kind of made sense."
"Unless you want the world to know who you really are and the identity of your loved ones, including the dog with the stupid name," he said, ignoring the last comment "then the world's greatest assassin, you, now works for me."
From the CCTV monitors, his guest was seen pouring himself a glass of champagne. He walked over to the gun and peered through the scope.
"Doesn't seem like I have much of a choice," he said.
"There are a great many people who would love to have the information I have, Jason. Tell me," said the watcher, or Mr. Black as he had now identified himself, "Is it true that one of your marks ended their own life rather than face you?"
"What am I looking at here?" he said levelly, ignoring the question and still peering through the telescopic sight.
"Ah, acceptance. Very wise Mr. Hammond. You are looking at the home of General Harkness."
"Nice place," came the reply. "Am I right that you want him dead for some reason?"
"It is, and yes you are. He is responsible..." The sentence stopped when the guest put up the flat of his hand.
"I have no desire to know any details of your friend. Am I assuming that you want this little job done for free, save telling the world who you think The Angel is"
"I don’t 'think’ Mr. Hammond - I know," he turned and smiled at the bodyguard standing to his right. A tall, muscular woman who looked as though she could rip the arms off any man and beat them with the soggy end if provoked. She did not return his smile. Either she was unaware that there was a joke to be shared, or did not care.
"Can I also assume that you are watching me from somewhere very far away and for some reason that prevents you from being within my reach?"
The guest stepped away from the gun and sat in one of the large chairs that faced the huge bay window.
"I am Mr. Hammond - Oops, sorry Mr. Angel" Again he turned to his bodyguard, the smile dropping from his face when, once again, she refused to be part of his little joke. He made a mental note to find an assistant / bodyguard that has the semblance of a sense of humor. He had no idea where this one had come from. He paid people a lot of money to provide him with quality protection. This woman was clearly of that caliber, if a little lacking in humor. “And although the gun I have provided for you has a magnificent range, it’s range is not long enough to reach me. As I have stated, you are a clever man Mr. Angel, but I am way beyond your grasp.”
"Hmm," came the guests reply. "May I ask you a question then?"
"Of course"
"From what I can gather, you are a man of obvious intelligence. Clearly a powerful man whose resources are impressive to say the least. I mean, you have got as close to me as any man. Most people who get this close are usually my targets and people who don't usually have a say in the matter. Not even my employers manage that - or even want that."
This brought a smile to his face as his ego swelled. Again he looked at his bodyguard, and again she ignored him.
"I am intrigued by something though," his guest added.
"Which is?
"I would have thought, and these are only my own musings of course, that a man who discovered the identity of The Angel, the greatest (your words not mine) assassin in the world, his family and even the name of his dog, would notice that, throughout our conversation his new 'employee's' mouth has not once moved. Don't you think that's odd?"
A puzzled look crossed his face.
"But hey," said his assistant / bodyguard, causing him to look up at a gun that was now pointed at his head. "It's not something you should lose sleep over"
Apart from a click and a muffled shot from a silenced PPK, nothing more was said.
The guest finished his champagne and stood up. He went to the window and looked out. It really was a magnificent view. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He ignored it as he knew it was just his bank telling him that there was a very large amount of money now in his account. He didn't know who this Angel person was, any more than the man lying in his own goo somewhere very far away. What he did know was that, whoever they were, they paid very well.
He placed the glass on the table and left the room. He stopped at the door and looked back. It really was a very nice room.
THE END
Setting Sights(Iain Cambridge)
He awoke in what seemed to be a hotel room.
A very nice hotel room, if he was honest with himself.
He had, of course, been in many a room like this, but not this one. He wondered where he was. He raised his head and looked around and noted that, thankfully, he was still fully dressed. The bed was, well, huge by bed standards. Silk sheets, fluffy duvet - the works. He ran his hands across the top of the duvet itself and took a moment to enjoy the quality. Whoever had brought him here had very much taken his comfort into consideration, and for that he was surprisingly grateful, given that it was not his choice to be here. He sat up and looked around at his new surroundings. There were flowers on the center table with a bottle of, what looked to be champagne that was being nicely chilled in a silver ice bucket. Thick velvet drapes had been drawn, tied back with an ornate sash to reveal a view that was, quite frankly, extraordinary. It wasn't, however, the room that concerned him though. No.
It was the fact that he had no idea how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was having coffee at Alondra's. Yes, that was it. He had received a text asking him to meet a client there. And that was it.
Coffee. Blackness. Hotel room.
If the coffee had been drugged, it was, like the room he was in, a very expensive and well made drug as it had left him with no headache and no bitter aftertaste. These guys were obviously professionals. Very wealthy professionals.
Another thing to be grateful for.
He got off the bed and wandered around the room, which was, like the bed, huge. Expensive paintings hung from the walls with the mood of the artwork reflected in the light jazz coming from a stereo of which were attached a pair of speakers that would have impressed the guys that put Stonehenge up. It was all rather jolly, if a little mysterious.
In every corner of the room was very discrete and very expensive looking cameras, all with little blinky red lights on them showing that they were working very nicely and that someone on the other end found him interesting enough to watch. He wandered into the bathroom and stopped dead in his tracks, stunned as he had been by the sheer magnitude of the bath. Mirrors covered three of the walls and reflected his image back and forth that, after a while made him feel a little dizzy. He thought it safe to assume that at least one of them was a two-way affair and that there was someone on the other side. He waved at them and hoped, if someone was behind the mirror that they were waving back and thought of the problem this would cause later on when he needed a widdle. Well, he didn't need one now, so that was a problem for later.
He made his way back into the main living area and took another look around. It was very tasteful. Big, but tasteful
There was, of course, the gun.
Like the room, it looked expensive and was set up on some sort of tripod affair. On top of it was a sight that was nearly as big as the gun itself. Clearly, someone expected a target to be hit that was very far away.
"Good morning Angel," said a man's voice.
He jumped a little at the sudden interruption to the melancholy mood, looking around like one of the Muppets in an episode of 'Pigs in Space' as they reacted to the voiceover that announced next week’s installment.
"As you can see, no expense has been spared to make you as comfortable as possible, and the hardware provided is, of course, your weapon of choice"
He looked towards the gun. It was indeed a L115A3 sniper rifle. He shrugged and then looked around the room again to find the source of the hidden voice.
"You’re a hard man to find, Angel," said the voice, the owner of which presumably watched his guest on a collection of CCTV monitors. He was, and the voice's owner smiled to himself and allowed himself a little chuckle at the confused look on his guests face.
"You have a reputation for extreme anonymity, and indeed you are a very clever man - But I sir have spared no expense and have exhausted every resource in finding you"
"How very 'persistent' of you" came his guest's voice, over the small intercom that sat on the desk. It was the same one as used in the show, 'Charlie’s Angels' The watcher was a self confessed fan, more of Charlie than the girls.
"But why am I here - Mister?" asked his guest.
"You may call me Mr. Black, and the reason that you are here Mr. Angel is that you are going to do a little job for me"
"Am I” came a surprised reply. Well, more sarcasm than surprise.
"You are, Mr. Angel," came the reply. "Tell me," he added, "Do you prefer Angel, or Mr. Angel? - Or even Jason"
His guest raised his eyebrows at this, turning down the corners of his mouth. He seemed genuinely impressed by this.
"Yes, I know exactly who you are Mr. Hammond. Your past has caught up with you. Your time in the military, your training via MI5 and onwards to the CIA. and then you vanish into thin air, with only your skill giving any hint that you existed. Thirty-four confirmed hits paid for by men of extreme wealth, all completely unaware of who you are. You hide in the shadows Mr. Angel, but those same shadows have monsters living there too. Monsters such as myself who would stop at nothing to have a man of your skills work for me - Exclusively"
"And why would I do that?" Asked the guest.
"Because we know the name of your wife and child. Even the name of your dog, Everything about this life you have built to protect the real man behind a name that sparks fear into a flame of despair from those knowing that The Angel is coming for them. By the way, Springer? Really?"
"Well, she is a spaniel, so it kind of made sense."
"Unless you want the world to know who you really are and the identity of your loved ones, including the dog with the stupid name," he said, ignoring the last comment "then the world's greatest assassin, you, now works for me."
From the CCTV monitors, his guest was seen pouring himself a glass of champagne. He walked over to the gun and peered through the scope.
"Doesn't seem like I have much of a choice," he said.
"There are a great many people who would love to have the information I have, Jason. Tell me," said the watcher, or Mr. Black as he had now identified himself, "Is it true that one of your marks ended their own life rather than face you?"
"What am I looking at here?" he said levelly, ignoring the question and still peering through the telescopic sight.
"Ah, acceptance. Very wise Mr. Hammond. You are looking at the home of General Harkness."
"Nice place," came the reply. "Am I right that you want him dead for some reason?"
"It is, and yes you are. He is responsible..." The sentence stopped when the guest put up the flat of his hand.
"I have no desire to know any details of your friend. Am I assuming that you want this little job done for free, save telling the world who you think The Angel is"
"I don’t 'think’ Mr. Hammond - I know," he turned and smiled at the bodyguard standing to his right. A tall, muscular woman who looked as though she could rip the arms off any man and beat them with the soggy end if provoked. She did not return his smile. Either she was unaware that there was a joke to be shared, or did not care.
"Can I also assume that you are watching me from somewhere very far away and for some reason that prevents you from being within my reach?"
The guest stepped away from the gun and sat in one of the large chairs that faced the huge bay window.
"I am Mr. Hammond - Oops, sorry Mr. Angel" Again he turned to his bodyguard, the smile dropping from his face when, once again, she refused to be part of his little joke. He made a mental note to find an assistant / bodyguard that has the semblance of a sense of humor. He had no idea where this one had come from. He paid people a lot of money to provide him with quality protection. This woman was clearly of that caliber, if a little lacking in humor. “And although the gun I have provided for you has a magnificent range, it’s range is not long enough to reach me. As I have stated, you are a clever man Mr. Angel, but I am way beyond your grasp.”
"Hmm," came the guests reply. "May I ask you a question then?"
"Of course"
"From what I can gather, you are a man of obvious intelligence. Clearly a powerful man whose resources are impressive to say the least. I mean, you have got as close to me as any man. Most people who get this close are usually my targets and people who don't usually have a say in the matter. Not even my employers manage that - or even want that."
This brought a smile to his face as his ego swelled. Again he looked at his bodyguard, and again she ignored him.
"I am intrigued by something though," his guest added.
"Which is?
"I would have thought, and these are only my own musings of course, that a man who discovered the identity of The Angel, the greatest (your words not mine) assassin in the world, his family and even the name of his dog, would notice that, throughout our conversation his new 'employee's' mouth has not once moved. Don't you think that's odd?"
A puzzled look crossed his face.
"But hey," said his assistant / bodyguard, causing him to look up at a gun that was now pointed at his head. "It's not something you should lose sleep over"
Apart from a click and a muffled shot from a silenced PPK, nothing more was said.
The guest finished his champagne and stood up. He went to the window and looked out. It really was a magnificent view. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He ignored it as he knew it was just his bank telling him that there was a very large amount of money now in his account. He didn't know who this Angel person was, any more than the man lying in his own goo somewhere very far away. What he did know was that, whoever they were, they paid very well.
He placed the glass on the table and left the room. He stopped at the door and looked back. It really was a very nice room.
THE END
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Kevin Hughes
12/23/2023As always Iain, wonderful. Lovely twist at the end (which, as you can tell, the whole thread was tickled by). I wanted to congratulate you on StoryStar of the Month! Well done! I also read your Bio for the first time. I read a lot of stories, but I don't read the Bio's. I guess I should start. LOL
Anyways your path to writing was opened by something that most of us would have used for an excuse to stop writing, not start. I have to give you Kudo's for that. And the old laptop helped you churn out some magnificent stories! And now, you are a solid talent and podcaster. Life my friend, is amazing.
Smiles, and Merry Christmas, Kevin
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Iain Cambridge
12/23/2023Douglas Adams once wrote 'Nothing intensifies a man's desire to climb everest faster than impending death'
My desire to write was sped up by a look at the realization of my own morality and the notion that we are only here once, so make it count. Thank you for your friendship brother and have a great Christmas.
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Lillian Kazmierczak
11/27/2023Lain, that was marvelous! Karma at its finest! Fascinating and engaging, sucked me right in. As always well written. The twist the twist at the end I didnt see coming! Just terrific! A well deserved short story star of the week!
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Iain Cambridge
11/27/2023Your kind words, as always are appreciated. A great way to start my day. Thank you.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Iain Cambridge
11/08/2023A couple of editing issues spotted by my son - Please excuse them, I was still half asleep when I posted.
Iain xx
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