Time: Modern Day
Location: New York City

United Nations Day broke with a shining Spring day in Lower Manhattan. The sun reflected off the windows of the UN building streaming dust-filled beams into the lawn area where the final touches were being laid to the podium in front of the flag poles hosting the flags of many nations.

The surface of the East River shimmered with deep blue giving way to reflections of sunlight off the surrounding buildings.

People had a spring in their step as they rushed to work, being uplifted by the sight of the morning. This more than made up for the cacophony of sounds from the traffic coming out of the tunnel and honking and hollering. The taxis and buses spilled out of the confines of the tunnel and spread-eagled their way across FDR Drive with the customary horns, shouts, fingers and fist pumps from the commuters doing battle in the daily search for a parking space.

Far above, two men were also preparing. Each took up his position. either side of the huge water tower on the top of an adjoining building. Anton selected the right side of the water tower which afforded him a clear shot at the left temple of whoever was speaking at centre stage.

He set Carlos up at the left side of the water tower which would give him a clear shot at Layla and then Mal who was sure to be close by Layla. The CIA had assured them that the Secret Service would insist on placing Layla and Mal on PJL's right side. They would stand behind and to the left of the three candidates as each of them spoke. Each one's entourage, family and campaign staff would be on their right when they spoke. Layla and Mal would be brought forward while PJL was at the microphone. This would be the most advantageous time for Anton to shoot followed immediately by Carlos taking out, first Layla then Mal. They would then put their rifles in their backpacks and run to their assigned escape routes and meet up at the black Porsche near the entrance to the tunnel.

"Okay, Carlos, any last-minute questions?"

"Just one I thought of. Won't the cops be suspicious of the car in the tunnel that long? And why such a conspicuous car anyway?"

"The car will be abandoned once they hear the gunshots. It has diplomatic plates so the cops will leave it be. It is an imposing vehicle, not your usual getaway car. It is fast if we need it to be and will not look out of place at a private jet hangar later when we make our flight. Now, if that's all I'll leave you to it. Give me a shout-out on the comms in five minutes, from then on it's constant contact until we get to the car understood?"

"Yes, Boss.'

"Okay then, let's do this! And keep your eyes on those flags. There is a bit of a zephyr wind today so you might have to adjust your scope a bit but it's not a long shot so you should be fine."

Anton bent down and patted Carlos on the shoulders as he got himself comfortable lying behind the TAC - 50 as he began honing the sight.

Anton looked up to see if he could see any helicopters. There was no sign but there was sure to be one on standby someplace near. The Secret Service was never one to leave anything to chance.

The water tank had a control room attached which Anton had breached to afford them cover from the air should they need it as a last resort But if they were seen going there by anyone in an helicopter, it would pretty much be over for them anyway.

Down on the dias Mal and Layla were talking to Tamara. The President, Hayley Lynch was getting ready to speak. She took the stage with rousing applause and a few boos which she treated with bemused disdain. Mal's phone rang. He picked up despite a frown from a nearby Presidential Secret Service officer. Mal beckoned Layla to come back behind the two other Secret Service agents who looked annoyed at having to let her through.

"What is it, Mal?"

"It's Margot. She says something strange is going on. She tried again yesterday to contact Carter but still nothing.

"Then she said this morning she tried again. Two things happened -  the Ouija board spelt out 'other side' and 'behind agents'. She asked if that meant anything to us. She is not sure if it's Carter or not but she can't make sense of it. She thought it might be for us."

"Well, there are a lot of agents here. They want us to stand over there with Tamara when PJL is speaking," Layla postulated.

"That could be it." Mal thought about what he might say next, "One thing I've learnt from all this is not to take anything Margot gets lightly."

Anton got into position.

The event started at noon so the sun shouldn't be an issue but that wind is a bit concerning. Not for me so much I'm used to these conditions but Carlos, I'm not so sure. It's always an issue in skyscraper areas like Manhattan.

The flags should give us plenty of warning. It'll be fine, Anton gave himself a pep talk.

The crowd's here. There's the Secret Service . . . Stick out like dog's balls. There are one, two or at least three plainclothes agents, probably CIA since it's the UN. Here they come with their hangers-on . . .

"Carlos, you there . . . Good. Yes, I can hear you fine. Ready? Okay! Showtime!

President Lynch spoke about America's ongoing commitment to Ukraine and that her government if re-elected would send arms and financial support to counter any aggressive moves by the Russians.

A smattering of applause greeted her finishing comments. She joined her husband and stood back at the left of the podium behind the main Democrat candidate Boston Tyne. Tyne spoke for ten minutes about what a threat Putin was to democracy without spelling out how he was such a threat. He too got a mixture of applause and boos for his pro-war stance.

Then it was PJL's turn. He took the stage hand in hand with his daughter Tamara. Mal and Layla were ushered along to stand behind Tamara as PJL pointed to them and his daughter as being responsible for his running in the first instance, as far as his daughter was concerned. Also his media campaign giving him increasing popularity to the point where he was now neck and neck with Tyne as the preferred Democrat candidate.

As he began to say that if elected he would try to negotiate a peace deal with the Russians . . .

Anton braced himself adjusted the sight, trained the scope on PJL's forehead and was about to pull the trigger when the scope went haywire and he was focused behind PJL and saw a magnified Mal grabbing Tamara's hand and Layla's in his other hand and guiding them behind PJL and to the other side of the podium, behind the two burly Secret Service agents stationed there.

"What's going on?" Carlos sounded panicked.

"I don't know, my scope is all out of whack all of a sudden.

Peter's spirit gave the scope another twist.

Holy shit!" The scope had suddenly turned black.

Anton raised his head and there perched on the end of his barrel was a Raven. He didn't know why but he said it but he did and said out loud "Dad?"

"What? Fuck, Anton. Are we aborting? Or do I take the shot. They are already under cover. Why the fuck aren't you shooting?"

"You will wait for me Carlos, understood?"

"You're the boss. But I could have shot them both three times by now!"

"Stick to the plan you prick!"

Peter looked at the Raven which gave up Andre's spirit and immediately flew away.

"Andre what are you doing here?"

"The same as you. Redemption is a bitch, but Teacher told me what you were planning. I just came along to make sure your plan doesn't include killing my son."

"What will be, will be."

"Spoken like a true Teacher . . . But you're not, are you?"

Andre tried to fix his son's scope so he could complete his mission. He knew how Special SPECTRE treated failure. Anton was already on borrowed time.

A kind of spirit tug of war developed over the scope. Peter said, "Piss off Andre. I'm here to save Layla and Mal. I don't give two hoots about politicians but Mal and Layla are still vulnerable. I promised Amelia I'd save them!"

"Well . . . Go fuck with Carlos then and leave my son alone."

"Okay I will."

The applause signalled PJ was coming to the end of his speech.

Carlos was sweating now. He had never used a glove when firing an AK even, let alone a sniper rifle like this. Being left handed he found gloves uncomfortable at the best of times. He longed to feel the full force of the recoil through the trigger on his finger.

He remembered one of the last things Anton had said last night. "Don't ever take off your gloves."

Carlos could understand that if you were worried about fingerprints but he was taking everything with him. And besides there were no records of his fingerprints anywhere as a SPECTRE assassin, all records had been deleted. He no longer existed in the outside world so . . .

"What the fuck!" Carlos pulled his left glove off and let his finger feel the comforting cooling metal of the trigger.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck the scope, gotta take the shot. Anton squeezed the trigger ever so gently. . . The gentle assassin. The wind picked up and blew all the flags to Anton's left. A gentle zephyr rolling around the podium but enough combined with the offset sight and the rushed crescendo of applause to cause one of the most accomplished snipers in the world to miss. Not by much and the bullet found a target as it grazed PJL's temple and lodged firmly in the throat of one Boston Tyne before exploding and covering all around him with a bloody mixture of brains and skull fragments.

Mal looked up as did the Secret Service men in front of him to the water tower.

Something caught his eye not where the shot had come from but on the other side of the tower. Flashes of sunlight reflected by four diamonds on the trigger finger of Carlos' left hand betrayed his position to the gallery below.

Mal's attempt to push Tamara away was aided as she, in turn, attempted to race across the pandemonium on the podium to tend to her father. Mal grabbed Layla's head and shoved it down as he fell with her to the floor shielded by the two large framed Secret Service men.

The screams of the crowd were punctuated by 'Phutt, Phutt, Phutt.' The two Secret Service men fell to the floor. One on top of Mal and the other on top.of Layla turning her scream into a guttural grunt. The two men were dead despite having the best bullet-proof vests money could buy. Phutt Phutt. The bulletproof vest on top of Layla opened twice more as the body of the Secret Service guy jumped twice into the air as the bullets tore through the kevlar vest.

Mal waited until the screams of the crowd died down and he heard a Security guard shout "Get them!"

He checked on Layla; she wasn't hit just had the wind knocked out of her by the dead guy landing on her. He looked across and saw Tamara holding some sort of cloth to her Dad's forehead as he sat bolt upright on the podium floor. She gave him the thumbs up. He was relieved neither was seriously hurt. There were two shooters, though, but they had now, apparently stopped.

Fuck me, I don't know whether I got him or not. I know I hit him, I hit the guy behind too. Couldn't make him out clearly before all the blood and guts. Anton's mind was racing as he placed his rifle in his backpack and raced over to the grappling hook before abseiling down the wall to the roof of the next building and jumping on the fire escape. He ran into the vacant land behind the building and then out onto the street and walked normally all the way down, as police cars, sirens blaring, raced down on the other side of FDR Drive towards the UN building. He waited to hear from Carlos. It's up to the final shooter to break radio silence once the coast is clear. Nothing for ten minutes. Anton was at the entrance to the tunnel when his earpiece piped up.

"Anton, Anton you at the car?"

Fuckng idiot. I'm not gonna answer till you use the code word.

"Oh shit, sorry I forgot. Chalice."

"Where are you?" Anton asked, trying to disguise his anger.

"Did you see? Did I get him?"

"Unless you mean that Boston prick. No."

"Where are you?"

"I'm in the basement just coming up into the street."

"Okay, just act normally. Normal walking speed. Okay, don't bring attention to yourself. You don't know that anything has happened, right?"

"Jesus Anton, we're screwed. We shot the wrong Democrat. And I didn't get Layla either, just two security guards in the way."

"Don't worry about that now. Just get yourself to me, okay and leave your mic on."

Carlos was at the wall bordering the East River when his luck ran out.

He passed a Secret Service agent, pulling up in a black SUV. The agent immediately got out and called out to him.

"Excuse me sir, did you happen to lose a glove recently?"

"Run Carlos, run I told you not to take off your gloves."

"Sorry, Boss."

"I said, did you lose a glove?"

"Must have dropped it on
the bus when I took it off to pay."

The agent spoke into his lapel. Carlos couldn't make out what he said because of the intermittent noise of the waves lapping at the walls behind him.

Then he saw it, a matching black SUV speeding down FDR Drive from the UN building.

'Carlos, kick him in the head and run, now, it's your only chance. Anton put down the heavy lead lined backpack and pulled out the Dragunov. He raised it to his shoulder and adjusted the telescopic sight back to normal.

He had the head of the agent in his sights and he was about to fire when he saw the SUV speeding towards the tunnel, towards the black Porsche, towards him!

Fuck, fuck if I shoot now they'll see the flash then I'm dead too. Fuck you Carlos you disobedient prick! Why the fuck is everything going wrong? They are supposed to be paid off. On our side. Take the fucking red pill you coward.

The SUV did a broadside screeching halt just like in the movies and two other agent clones sprang from either side. They immediately pulled their guns out and ran across FDR Drive holding up their hands and dodging the cars as they too screeched to a halt to avoid the men in black.

"And what number bus would that be, sir?"

Carlos jumped up on the wall and looked down into the river.

The agent pulled his gun.

"Step down sir, please don't do anything foolish. Drop your gun!"

"I don't have a gun. But I do have diplomatic immunity!"

"Is that so?"

The other two agents arrived and trained their guns on Carlos.

"What's going on?" the taller one asked the red headed agent that had bailed up Carlos.

"He says he has diplomatic immunity."

Carlos played with the ring on his left hand.

"Take the pill Carlos, it's over!" rang out in his ear confirming his dread.

"Get down here then, sir, and we can discuss your diplomatic immunity," said the redhead, "You must have some form of id to that effect?"

Carlos looked down at his left hand and as he raised his hands the sunlight caught the four diamonds in his skull ring.

The redhead that had been protecting Tamara Lush twenty minutes earlier had been standing next to Mal and had seen what Mal saw.

"It's him! It's the shooter!"

Carlos focussed, accepted the inevitable and glanced pleadingly towards the tunnel entrance.

A shell whistled over the redhead and caught Carlos in the eye. With the accompanying sound of a gun shot the two other agents opened fire on Carlos' collapsing body sending it over the wall and into the East River. The redhead took off his shoes and immediately jumped into the river to retrieve Carlos' body.

Anton hadn't missed this time, he reloaded, and was about to put another bullet in Carlos to send him over the edge, when the two men in black did the job for him. He lowered the rifle only to see the helicopter take-off from the roof of the UN building.

Oh Christ, here comes the fucking helicopter!

Anton quickly placed the rifle back in its lead lined backpack, threw it in the boot of the Porsche, jumped in the driver's seat, turned off the hazards and slowly pulled out into traffic and headed for JFK airport. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when he looked in the rear view mirror and saw no black SUVs in sight. An even bigger sigh when the Porsche exploded out of the tunnel as he floored it in case he'd been spotted by the helicopter. He checked the mirrors again.

No helicopter!

He wound down both windows, took his foot off the accelerator and stuck his head out the driver's side window.

No sound of a helicopter!

He put on some soothing rock music and put it up loud. Wound up the windows. Immersed himself in the cleansing sound as he started a mixture of singing interspersed with crying. He put his foot down further. He wanted to put this shit behind him as fast as possible.

The redhead was struggling in the cold water he drifted to a small fishing pier and as he took a hold he was hoisted out of the water by the two other agents.

"Did you see where the body went?" they asked almost in unison?

"No, it sank like a rock. Sounds crazy but it was like it was weighted down. Never seen a body sink that fast before, have you?"

'No, I guess not. The East River is notorious for hiding bodies though."

The redhead looked at his two colleagues and began to shake his head.

Am I imagining it or do these guys seem relieved that the body sank?

"Did you see where that shot came from?"

"What shot?"

"The rifle shot that killed him! There must be another shooter."

"No, Jim. There was no shot. We killed him. We got the shooter. We all saw the flash and thought he'd pulled a gun don't you recall? It's over Jim you're a hero. Probably get a promotion and a citation, maybe even a Presidential medal. So just accept it all and we can go back and clean up this mess."

"Who exactly are you guys?"

"CIA, Jim, we are CIA and that's all you need to know, isn't it?"

Anton pulled up outside the domestic terminal. He pulled Carlos' bag and passport out of the boot. He went into the terminal, scanned his passport and paid for a one way ticket to Washington D.C. and auto checked in his luggage in the VIP lounge.

There you go Carlos you're finally off to Washington.

He raced out, got behind the wheel and headed for the private jet hangars. His favourite Stones' song from his playlist had him singing along long after it was over in fact until he reached the Learjet he was deep in thought.

How could so many things go wrong? Graz is going to be pissed, so is Petros. Although from what Carlos told me maybe not so much. Maybe he'll be glad Carlos is dead. He blamed him for tricking him into killing his own son! I know how my Dad would have reacted to a revelation like that. Carlos would have been dead long ago if it had've been me. Petros will probably be disappointed I wasn't killed too. Although he probably knows that neither of us knew Carter was his son at the time.

But he must also know that it wouldn't have made a lick of difference to me. A contract is a contract.
He is going to be pissed that his assassination plan didn't work out though. SPECTRE doesn't tolerate failure. It was a brilliant plan. I've got to give Peter that, right down to the car in the tunnel in case there was helicopter surveillance. He thought of everything, everything except how stupid Carlos was. And what the fuck was that on the roof? I've never had trouble with the scope on that rifle before. I must have checked three times beforehand. Was Dad's spirit really there or was I just imagining it? Will Peter and Graz believe my explanation? I wouldn't. How can such a meticulously planned contract go so wrong?

He got out his bag and backpack and threw them in the cargo hold. He raced up the gangplank and was greeted by the Captain and co-pilot. He mumbled a good afternoon lost in thought. He pulled himself out of it and said, "Sorry guys, a bit distracted, forgive me, how long until we land in Rome?"

"About eight days. We are on a little vacation, apparently. I just got a new fight plan. Barbados for a week then back to Rome. Suits me fine, how about you sir?"

"I'll have to think about that. I'll let you know how I feel about it when we get there. In the mean time, I could do with a drink. It's been a hell of a day."

"So we hear, sir, it certainly must have been harrowing. But it's over now, just relax and let us take it from here."

"This isn't another special flight is it? "

"What do you mean, sir?"

"CIA?"

"No sir, Vatican flight, sir, of course."

Shit, won't be able to check on Netty for another week. No contact until we are back at the Vatican, damn it. I need to warn her about Peter. She probably has only just had the interview so probably won't have started yet.

Anton smiled at the pilot, nodded his approval, walked down to the passenger lounge and collapsed into the lounge settee with a loud sigh.

The flight stewardess poured him a Highland Park single malt, laid out a cigar, pistachio nuts and chocolate. All his favourites were there but he still looked sad.

"How was your day?" she asked.

"Don't ask!" Anton replied as the plane taxied out onto the runway.

"That good, eh?" She smiled, "Anything I can do for you?"

Anton whipped around.

"Cecilia?" They both laughed. "Well I guess the Mile High Club is out of the question?"

"Not out of the question. Hehe. Not out of the question at all. In fact, we have a two-for-one deal running at the moment! Hehe."

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