Killer's Creed
By Tarry Ionta
()
About this ebook
No longer able to accept the Combine's corrupt and criminal activities, Ben Serber, assistant lawyer in the organization, takes flight, knowing that he will be pursued by its head assassin. Morello, head of the Combine, cannot allow the knowledge that Ben has acquired to reach the police.
Unable to enlist the help of the partially corrupt police force, he decides to fight back, assisted from the most unexpected and unlikely sources.
Tarry Ionta
Born 1933 of Italian parentage. He served in the RAF and worked at various occupations before entering Glasgow University at thirty, to study Maths, Physics, and Astronomy. He completed one year before dropping out to become a telegraphist. Finally, completing his working life with British Telecom Finance Department. His Interests and hobbies comprise mainly of chess, and reading science fiction. He has also had a keen, practicing interest in computing and martial arts (Judo and Shotokan Karate) and music (Saxophone, Clarinet, and Piano - Over twelve years with City of Glasgow Military Band). Now retired and no longer active in those fields, he prefers to concentrate on writing. He has been writing since 1988, having written over fifty varied short stories, a few articles, novellas, novels, and a children's fantasy book. Several short stories have been published in anthologies and on the Internet. A few have also been short-listed in the WRITER'S NEWS monthly competitions. He continues to write.
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Killer's Creed - Tarry Ionta
Killer's Creed
by
Tarry Ionta ©
Copyright 2017
E-book: Smashwords edition 2017 ISBN: 9781370790333
License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to the owner and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Any resemblance to actual people and events is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction.
The original images used to form the cover of this book are in the Public Domain. If anyone knows of anything to the contrary please inform the author at:
ionta.books@outlook.com
Chapter 1
Six paces—that was all he had left—six paces between life and death; a few short seconds to oblivion… Or to whatever afterlife he might believe in; though he had little faith or hope in that consideration. Thoughts should have been flashing through his mind at lightning speed; cramming in as many memories as he could in what little time he had left. It is said, that in the last few moments before death, the whole of your life flashes before your eyes.
Not so for him. The rest of his expected life was spent counting the steps to the open grave before him, with an acute awareness of every precious second remaining. It was all he could see; all he could think about. Finally, he stood before the open maw that would be his resting place. Beside it, the pile of earth he had just excavated, ready to cover what would soon be his rapidly cooling and bloody body.
His mind was numb, no longer searching for ways to escape; no longer hoping for the miracle that would save him from his execution. There was just acceptance now, and a desire to have it end, quickly and painlessly.
The shot never came.
Long, long moments passed—an eternity—before he realized that everything had become silent; silent as the grave. The ironic thought had entered his mind, uninvited and without trace of humor. He could no longer hear the voice of his executioner goading him onward; no longer hear the sounds of his movements.
He turned his head slowly, expecting at any moment to hear the thunder of a pistol shot. Would he even hear the shot? In that split second between the sound of the pistol and death, would the shot register? The least he expected, was to hear the gruff voice of his assailant behind him telling him to keep his eyes to the front, as he had done several times already; as though his assailant was afraid to look him in the eye. He turned quickly, no longer caring what resulted from his actions. He was about to die, anyway. And he would rather face death head-on.
He was alone. There was no sign of his assassin.
The clearing was vacant of any other human life. Scrutinizing the trees, which were only some thirty meters from where he stood, he scanned the area all around him. There was no sign of his would-be killer. His eyes focused for a brief moment on the pile of earth beside the grave; the shovel embedded at a careless angle. A chill ran up his spine. Not until he was certain that he was alone did he allow his feelings to wash over him like a cascade of ice cold water. He flopped to the ground on his knees, his legs too weak to support him any longer; a marionette whose cords had just been severed.
With an overpowering sense of relief he knelt where he had dropped, his mind still in confusion. Why? he thought. Why had his executioner decided to be merciful and spare him?
Or had he? Was he still waiting somewhere; playing a cruel cat and mouse game for his own perverted satisfaction? Maybe he was hidden somewhere behind the trees, unseen, but waiting for him to develop a false sense of security before firing the fatal shot.
With a sudden rush of adrenaline, the thought came to him. He had to move and move quickly. He might still have a chance. Rising to his feet and ignoring the overpowering weakness he still felt, he made a dash for the shelter of the nearest trees, at any moment expecting to feel a red-hot projectile slam into his body.
He reached the relative safety of a large clump of bushes. Threw himself into them, totally disregarding the branches and twigs scraping his face and hands. He lay panting for breath. But the expected thunder of the Walther never came. There was only