The Discreet Hit Read online

  Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  The Discreet Hit

  Gowtham Gurunath

  “The Discreet Hit” is a work of fiction. The places and incidents written in the novel are either the product of my imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The mention of a few character names in the novel are some of the characters that inspired me and so using the names of those characters was purely based on the intentions of honouring them and proper acknowledgements have been credited to the specific individuals.

  *

  Dedicated To My

  Family

  &

  Dear Friends

  Acknowledgements

  Hey Dear Readers,

  The core concept of the Short Story / Crime Fiction – “The Discreet Hit” was partly inspired from one of the legendary the author “Lee Child’s – Personal” released in the year 2014.

  The completion of this fiction would not have been possible if not for the encouragement of my friends and my family. Thanks for the extended support you people have been giving me.

  The guest role of the characters “Ex – Major Jack Reacher & Major Susan Turner, 110th MP” was inspired from the lead characters created by Lee Child in 1997, in his debut work, “The Killing Floor”.

  The Namesake role of “Neal Caffrey” was an inspiration and one of my favourite characters from the USA Network’s hit TV Series, “White Collar”.

  What happens in “The Discreet Hit”?

  4th of July: On one of the busiest days of America, An attempt is made to shoot the president and the only chances of survival of the shooter are ZERO. When the authorities pin point three persons of interests, the only person who can find the shooter is an Ex – TCG task force interrogator, Jeffrey Turner.

  The stakes are too high and the only thing they don’t have, is “Time”.

  Will Jeffrey Turner race against the time to uncover the massive conspiracy & find the shooter, who nearly succeeded in a “Discreet Hit” against the American President?

  Never lie to a person, who lies for a Living.

  Turn down the pages quickly to find the answer for yourself.

  The Discreet Hit

  Chapter One

  The government was surprisingly easy to control. All we have to do is to be either making a bribe, blackmail them or corrupt them. If we pay a lot of money to right person at the right time, they can be easily bribed.

  The two men in suits headed inside, what was claimed to be one of the tallest building in the state, owned by the government; owned or bribed or even procured by blackmailing, well, who cares?

  One of the men in suits was a man pushing towards his late forties, peppered hair and mild wrinkles on his face. He was holding a black legal case firmly along with a file, stacked with a bunch of documents and bonds enclosed with a confidential seal on it.

  A long blue tag wobbling around his neck revealed his name as Dylan Rhodes on the top of which was a picture of him with a suit and tie, probably taken years back.

  Dylan Rhodes was in fact a big name in business. The Rhodes Enterprises was one of the America’s largest leading defence contractors running since 68’, leading suppliers of military grade weapons and pistols, ammunitions, bullet proof Kevlar vests, spy toys and other things that goes beyond imagination.

  ‘You always are one skeptic son-of-a-bitch.’ Rhodes claimed.

  The man along with Rhodes, who called himself as Turner, threw a quick smile at him, ‘Yeah, what can I say? Being skeptic when needed is exactly what we’re getting paid for, isn’t it?’

  Jeffrey Turner was a former employee of the TCG – Tasking and co – ordination group, a military intelligence body that specializes in special kinds of surveillance and interrogation. Unlike any other federal bodies, interrogation is always a risky business.

  Pointing a gun on the suspects head and scaring him like shit was like eating a piece of cake but interrogating one and extracting info outta his head is one shitty job.

  It requires an intense training that includes brilliant negotiating skills, open – minded, understanding the suspect by standing in his position and think what he thinks and the list goes on.

  But the most important thing is that, everything that comes out of an Interrogator’s mouth is just another clear cut Lie. That one’s for sure.

  Lie. Lie. Lie. Always a Lie.

  To be precise, you get to do way cooler shit than anyone else in the military of an equal rank.

  Turner continued, ‘And besides, this case is a huge package, wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

  ‘So, is that what you think it is? Is that all? A package, you say?’

  ‘Ahh, as long as I’m getting paid for this, yeah that’s what I’m calling it. It’s a case for you, but just a package for me, a package with good money.’

  Turner and Rhodes kept walking in the long walkway inside the building that directly led them to the elevator. Turner’s dark and soft wavy hair rhythmically jumped up and down as he strode towards the elevator with fast paces.

  He looked younger for his age and he had more than a good physique for an interrogator. The thick rimmed geeky glasses and the gigantic silver dial Rolex Submariner watch in his wrist made him look more like a modern – day spy.

  As they moved past the reception desk, Turner noticed the man sitting at that desk, constantly keeping a fixed gaze on them, looking up and down for a very long uncomfortable moment. Turner couldn't help but think he was sizing them up by the clothes they wore, as if they were nothing more to him but a couple of walking wallets.

  What’s wrong with people these days? He thought. Apparently everything was wrong with them or was it one of the things that every normal people do? The word “Normal” always seems to be unusual or even so strange for Turner, because he was not like most people.

  He was not normal. He was something different, something people scare about. It’s normal that people usually sense the presence of danger or a threat about the things that they clearly don’t understand. It’s a psychology, but for Turner, more preferably, a science about people, that he studied over the years.

  Rhodes pressed the button on the elevator pad and patiently waited for it as it was slowly descending down from the forty – fifth floor.

  In an attempt to kill time he decided to start a very normal conversation with Turner.

  ‘So, Turner? What made you choose TCG?’ he asked.

  Turner immediately grinned at Rhodes and turned back.

  Click. Click. Click.

  Thirtieth floor and still descending slowly.

  ‘So you’re not gonna answer. Is it?’

  ‘Trust me; you don’t wanna know the answer for that question Mr. Rhodes.’ He said.

  He looked up at him with a rather-not-pleased-face, and said ‘No! You Trust me. I do wanna know. I’ve hired you to finish the task in hand, so it’s only fair that I know at least little about you.’ He said.

  ‘Ok.’

  ‘Ok what?’

  ‘Okay. I’ll answer your question.’ Turned sighed.

  Dylan was staring at Turner waiting for an answer, but he didn’t have the faintest idea that the answer would be such a dumb one.

  ‘The people around you, friends and family think that you are literally James – Fucking – Bond. We get to do cooler shit than anyone else.’ He paused and looked at Rhodes, ‘Isn’t that awesome?’

  The
immediate reaction of Dylan was like. “What the hell?”

  As Dylan stared at him in full amazement the elevator made the final Click. The door opened and they got inside the elevator and Dylan hit the fiftieth floor.

  The fiftieth floor’s button was separated from the rest of the floor’s button that were arranged in a rectangular grid, and it was marked in a distinguished and bright red colour, which was weird, Turner thought.

  And for a fact, he also knew that Fiftieth floor was not in any of the building’s blue prints or floor plans.

  Chapter Two

  The elevator was rising up very slowly with several stops in between each floors and some shakes and jolts at times, and so Turner knew that he had a few minutes to kill before they reached up the top level.

  He was wondering if he should ask about the fiftieth floor but then for some reasons he chose not to.

  Occasionally they exchanged looks, glanced at each other and it was getting a little awkward. Turner decided to break the silence.

  ‘So talk to me about the case.’ He said.

  Rhodes’ eyebrows rose and then he shrugged, ‘I thought you read the case files. My bad.’

  ‘I do read but sometimes it’s even better to hear them verbally and get a third persons perspective too. It helps sometimes.’ He said.

  Rhodes nodded his head, expressing more of a “Oh I See” kind of face and he raised the black legal case to his shoulder level, and opened the zipper of the case, removed the stack of papers from them.

  He arranged the paper stack and then started explaining Turner about the case that was brought to his attention.

  ‘So, two days earlier, which was on the morning of fourth of July around 0930 hours the president was scheduled to give an Independence Day speech at the Lafayette Park, east of Downtown Detroit.’ He paused.

  ‘Well, then?’

  ‘Everything was going as per the plan but then approximately within five minutes on the podium, someone took a shot at the president.’ He said, and continued. ‘Fortunately we already took some precautionary measures and thanks to Rhodes Enterprises, the president’s podium was surrounded by bullet proof glass panes, that have the capacity to with stand the power of a an ammo ranging from a .357 magnum to even a powerful .700 Nitro Express.

  ‘So you say that the President was literally standing inside a bullet proof glass booth?’ asked Turner.

  ‘Don’t forget to mention that it was manufactured by Rhodes Enterprises, but yeah, a bullet proof glass booth it is.’ Rhodes exclaimed.

  Ding. The elevator stopped on the forty – third floor, picking up two more suits, a man and an attractive woman. The awkward silence continued again for another couple of floors where they both stepped off leaving Turner and Rhode alone again.

  They made sure the doors closed behind them and the conversation continued.

  ‘So the glass booth stopped the bullet from killing the president. The Lafayette Park was already surrounded and manned by undercover cops and surveillance group, similar to yours for a five – hundred meter radius, which helped us rule out that this, was definitely a work of a sniper.’

  That was lame because it’s clearly obvious that it’s the work of a sniper, nobody dares to shoot the president from a close range with the securities intact.

  ‘Woah. Good ruling out. I guess it definitely is a sniper.’ Turner said sarcastically with a wide smile.

  Rhodes didn’t mind him instead he continued with his case.

  ‘The bullet that hit the booth was found within a few minutes and with the assist of experts, it was found that the disorientation of the bullet was minimal, suggesting us that the shot was attempted from a long distance resulting in a drastic reduction of the bullets force thus ending up with a minimal impact.’ He said.

  Turner interrupted, ‘On that particular day, I remember the weather being cloudy and the wind was high with a moderate humidity level, so the shooter must have chosen his hide – out by taking into account the barometric pressure and moist content of the air right? He asked.

  ‘An obvious point, yes exactly he must’ve.’

  ‘So in that case it’s obvious that the hide – out must be deviated by several degrees, either right or left depending upon the wind’s direction, which leaves us with two questions in locating the hide – out. First, the direction of the wind and second, how far was it from the target?’

  Rhodes nodded in agreement.

  ‘Ruling these factors definitely leaves us with the third one – a collision free path for obtaining a clear and plain sight from the hide – out to the target area, to achieve the kill shot. So the wind’s direction?’ Turner asked.

  ‘With the help of some weather experts, we concluded that the wind flow was definitely towards the south, to the right across the podium area.’ He said.

  After a few quick calculations in mind, Turner already had an answer in his mind. It was the only possible answer Turner had in mind, so he thought of giving it a try.

  ‘That gives us only one option. The Central Park Plaza Apartments?’ he asked.

  Rhodes face was fixed in astonishment, ‘I envy your brilliant mind Turner. Central Park Plaza Apartments it is, but that’s exactly where we had our first anomaly.’

  ‘Ahh! That’s where I come in. It must be pretty interesting I guess.’ Turner said. ‘So, what’s the anomaly?’

  ‘We found the apartment and we had the feds surrounded by the building. After canvassing, pretty much every house in the apartment was accounted for, except for two.’

  Turner didn’t expect this. He was surprised. ‘Two?’ he made sure.

  ‘Yes, two houses in the ninth and tenth floor and they were right on top of each other with a window facing in the same direction as the Lafayette Park area. Both houses were abandoned and we were able to find the shell casings from one of them.’ He said and continued. ‘Ballistics tested the casings and matched it to a weapon.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘The L115A3 Long Range Rifle with a Schmidt & Bender 3 – 12 x 50 PM II Telescopic sights.’ He said. ‘A deadly weapon used in covert wars by the Royal Marine Snipers.’

  Turner took about a minute to process these information’s. These were definitely an Anomaly, like Rhodes said.

  Ding. The elevator door opened to the Fiftieth floor.

  Show time.

  Two shooters, from two separate floors but apparently the same apartment and same target – The President of The United States of America.

  Ewww. How much more complicated can it get? Turner thought, and stepped out of the elevator.

  Chapter Three

  The fiftieth floor was not exactly how Turner expected it to be. The place was heavily fortified and manned by at least around ten armed military personnel’s equipped with a 9mm Beretta with a fifteen round magazine, similar to the weapon Turner has been using except for the silencer kit that added an extra thirty grams which was always clumsy to handle, and not to mention heavy.

  These guys were also provided with a ceramic and steel reinforced bullet proof vests and a back – up ammunitions storage unit built – up at the right end corner of the fiftieth floor.

  The floor was equipped with a total of six sensitive ConBrov Wf90 mini Wi-Fi motion activated surveillance cameras, each rotating at a consecutive angle 45 degrees, so that the floor is constantly under surveillance sweeping the entire floor space without leaving even the smallest square area.

  Towards the left, Turner observed a total of six separate interrogation cells, and by the looks of it he supposed that they must be built to withstand the effect of forced vibrations and impacts of armour piercing rounds with built – in sound proof technology.

  The glasses of the cells were built in such a manner that whoever from the outside looks, it just appears as a normal mirror reflection, keeping the things happening inside it completely discreet.

  So whatever Rhodes was doing with this floor was supposed to be off – the – books.

  T
hings started appearing a little dicey.

  Rhodes noticed the confounded look on Turner’s face and spoke. ‘So, about the anomaly . . . . . ‘

  Turner interrupted as Rhodes started speaking. ‘Two shooters right?’ he asked.

  Rhodes continued, ‘Yes, the ballistics matched the ammunition to the weapon and with the help of CIA’s tracking application we were finally able to pin the persons of interest, but that’s where we had the second anomaly.’ He said.

  Turner wasn’t surprised yet. He was waiting for Rhodes to continue.

  ‘Unfortunately around the time of shooting there appears to be three snipers carrying the same weapon in the same city and none of them have any alibi for the time the attempt was made.’ Rhodes stretched out his hands and shook his head. ‘None. Nada.’

  ‘So you brought them in. That’s why I’m here, to interrogate them and find out who attempted the kill shot?’ asked Turner.

  ‘Possibly yes, but to add spice to that, two of the POI’s who were brought in are Marine Snipers, except one. The third one works for the German version of S.W.A.T. team.’ He said.

  It’s definitely going to be fun interrogating these guys, he thought. Turner already had a theory in mind, but no solid evidence to support it.

  So he decided to play the game with one of his favourite techniques, The Prisoners Dilemma.

  Rhodes made him wait in the lobby for a few minutes after which he came back with a visitors tag, similar to his, for Turner. He said it was mandatory that every personnel entering inside any floor must be wearing them at all times.

  Rhodes also gave him the file that had the descriptive details of the suspects in custody. Three separate sheets for the three persons of interest.

  The first one was a Jim Pratt, 39, 6.1” and 245 solid pounds, American national. Marine sniper for the American forces. No rap sheet or prior black marks, a perfectly clean status. Too clean to be good, maybe. Highest Range: 1125m in a favourable sniper conditions. Only one fatal hit at an Iranian target, on a pre – war surveillance task. Final status: AWOL.