The Assassin Read Online Free PDF

someone else!!’ He jerked his head back at the Mercedes, and slid out of the car. Keller got out after him. He didn’t hurry; he turned his back on the invisible watcher, brought out the small case, and then lit a cigarette. All his life he had been pushed and only survived by pushing back.
    â€˜What are you doing?’ Fuad was almost dancing round him; he was whispering and the whisper was pitched high with fear. Keller smiled; he took a last long draw on the cigarette before he dropped it and ground it out. He opened the case without answering and took out a small, slim-barrelled Lüger pistol. It was a superb weapon; he tested the weight and took a quick practice aim at a branch ten yards away. The Legion had taught him many arts. He could kill a man with his hands; he could walk for miles with almost no water and completely without food; he could adjust to scorching heat and bitter cold. He was an expert with automatic weapons, and even his French non-com, who hated Keller because of his German name, had to admit that with a rifle he was like the vengeance of God. He was a natural marksman. His eye and his trigger finger were in perfect co-ordination; he had an instinct for when his target was right, when it would cease to move for just that second which meant life or death. His regiment had notched up thirty Viet Minh in one day’s sniper shooting in Indo-China, and twenty-five of them were shot by Keller. His skill with a rifle was no greater than his accuracy with a pistol. He was the regimental champion pistol shot.
    â€˜Ready,’ Keller said.
    â€˜That’s the target, up there, in that tree. Third from the left in that clump.’ Fuad pointed at the mass of branches. Keller could see something tied among them.
    â€˜There’s no ammunition,’ he said. ‘I can’t shoot air.’
    â€˜I have these,’ Fuad held out his hand. There were two cartridges in the palm. ‘Two shots only, that’s all you have.’ He bit his lower lip; he had worried it till it showed raw. ‘I hope you haven’t lied,’ he whispered again. ‘I hope you’re as good as you say you are …
    Keller looked at him. When he was angry his head lowered on his powerful neck. ‘Get out of the way!’
    He loaded the two bullets into the magazine clip and replaced it, when he slipped the safety catch and cocked the gun. For a moment he forgot about Fuad the Lebanese and the Mercedes with its watcher or watchers behind the glass screen.
    He raised the pistol to shoulder level; the target was a round rubber ball attached to a middle branch and as the wind blew, it moved.
    He calculated that at that distance it was the same size as a man’s head. He aimed and within a second he had fired. The little black blot in the trees disappeared.
    â€˜Is that the only target?’
    Fuad had a pair of glasses to his eyes. He lowered them and suddenly his gold teeth glittered. He smiled delightedly at Keller. ‘Yes! Yes!’ he said. ‘Nobody could have done better. First shot! Boom—first shot!’ He wasn’t whispering now, he was shouting, gesticulating towards the Mercedes. His part had come out right. He would get his money and nobody could say he hadn’t found exactly what he had been told to find.
    â€˜So,’ Keller said. He raised the pistol in the air and fired the last bullet. It was the marksman’s gesture after hitting the bull the first time. He laid the gun back in its case, dropped it contemptuously at Fuad’s feet and climbed back into the car. To hell with them. To hell with the spectators in the Mercedes. He was the best of his kind and he had let them see it. At that moment he had self-respect; he really didn’t care whether he got the job or not.
    Suddenly the horn on the Mercedes sounded twice. They were long blasts, and Fuad sprang into the driver’s seat.
    â€˜They want you,’ he said. ‘That was