The Killer Read Online Free PDF Page A

and one for his mouth. Adjusting the fit of the mask, then checking the rifle once more, he was ready. Quickly, he risked another peek through the broken windowpane. Nothing new was happening: the street was still quiet. Checking his watch again he muttered angrily, ‘Shit, they’re late, where the fuck are they?’
    A few moments later, he clearly heard someone shouting. ‘My name is Colonel McGuire, I am the acting commander of the 14 th regiment of the Provisional I.R.A. Falls Road, Belfast.’
    As Darren watched, five men came into his view. The bare-faced leader, he assumed, was the self-proclaimed Colonel McGuire while the other four Provos were typically dressed in camouflage uniforms and wearing the same woolly ski masks as Darren. Three of them were also carrying the evergreen Kalashnikov AK 47 assault rifles. Though these weapons had been adopted into service by the Soviet military as far back as 1949, they were still the weapon of choice by terrorist units worldwide, including the Provisional I.R.A. The AK’s were proudly carried, and could be clearly seen by everyone there, as the group of men marched out into the middle of the street. Two of the Provos were dragging behind them another man; this man was not in uniform. He was kicking and screaming in protest, but he was dragged along nonetheless.
    As the group gathered in the middle of the road the man who was dressed in “civvies” was forced to his knees, weeping and wailing all the time as he was pushed down. The Colonel made another announcement. ‘Declan O’Brien, you have been found guilty of collaborating with the enemy. As an informer you have received the sentence of death with a public execution. Have you anything to say?’
    The poor guy couldn’t say a word; the only sounds heard were ones of weeping and heartbreak. A large crowd of men, women and kids had gathered by now. They were watching the execution squad with mounting interest and excitement. Darren could hear the constant chanting as it grew louder and louder. “Kill the traitor”. “Shoot the bastard”.
    McGuire walked slowly and deliberately behind Declan. He reached down to his holster and unfastened the flap. Sliding out a black Colt .45 automatic pistol he chambered a round and placed the muzzle against the back of Declan’s head.
    ‘May God have mercy on your soul,’ he intoned, then added in a whisper, ‘you treacherous bastard,’ as he pulled the trigger.
    A loud crack was heard as the pistol fired. It echoed through the streets as Declan’s head and face exploded with blood, brains and pieces of shattered skull flying in all directions. Cheers went up from the crowd. Gangs of women were laughing out loud as they walked closer, hurling insults and spitting on his still twitching body. Small kids were pushed forward and made to watch the gory scene. As usual they were told, ‘this is what happens to informers. Don’t forget what you’ve seen today kids. Now off you go and play like good boys and girls.’
    Darren sat watching and smiled to himself. ‘Serves the fucking idiot right,’ he whispered as he pulled out another fag. Just as he was about to light it he heard the sound of approaching sirens. Placing the un-lit cigarette back into the pack, he waited. The crowd scattered and ran for shelter as the British Army Land Rover screeched to a halt, sirens still blazing, parking directly in front of the deceased, and now quite still, body of one Declan O’Brien. The next instant, doors flew open and the soldiers spewed out. They were instantly spread, down on one knee, with their rifles aimed in all directions.
    One of the soldiers crept slowly up to the body to check for any sign of life. Feeling for a pulse and finding none, he looked back towards his unit. ‘He’s a dead un, sir,’ the soldier shouted.
    As the corpse was being checked, Darren was watching, carefully picking out his target. He’d quickly settled on the Sergeant. ‘Fuckin’ perfect,