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    Killer's Creed Redemption
    Killer's Creed Redemption
    Killer's Creed Redemption
    Ebook85 pages1 hour

    Killer's Creed Redemption

    By Tarry Ionta

    ()

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    About this ebook

    In this sequel to Killer's Creed, assassin Sol Berman finds himself in a crossfire between the local law, the FBI and the head of an assassins’ organization. He allies himself with an FBI agent in an attempt to put the organization out of business, to ensure his own survival.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTarry Ionta
    Release dateOct 12, 2018
    ISBN9780463305065
    Killer's Creed Redemption
    Author

    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 Now retired and no longer active in those fields, he prefers to concentrate on writing.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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      Book preview

      Killer's Creed Redemption - Tarry Ionta

      Killer’s Creed

      (Redemption)

      by

      Tarry Ionta ©

      Copyright © 2018 Tarry Ionta

      ISBN: 9780463305065

      All rights reserved

      License notes

      This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This 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

      The world did not end. There was no rain of deadly nuclear weapons from the sky; no sudden fireball from space; no giant meteor strike to shove the earth out of its orbit.

      To Sol Berman it came as no surprise, in spite of the fact that emblazoned on the front of his sandwich board was the legend:

      PREPARE TO MEET THY DOOM.

      The world ends at noon today.

      It was well past noon, and everything was unchanged. People still crushed past him with barely a look at the board. Or, if they did look, it was a quick glance and a brief disbelieving smile. Worse, from some it was a look of pity for the scruffy man sandwiched between the boards. Otherwise, normality still reigned.

      Apart from the fact that Berman did not believe in such portents of doom, the board at his back read:

      EAT YOUR LAST MEAL AT

      TONI’S RESTAURANT

      If that didn't invalidate the prediction of the board in front, nothing would. It was a cynical and passing thought in his mind. There was little else he wanted to think about at that moment, as he moved slowly up and down the busy sidewalk, letting people flow around him, like the current streaming around a piece of debris, stuck in the middle of a shallow river.

      Even hidden between the twin advertising boards, it was clear to anyone who cared to take a second look, that he was no emaciated down-and-out. There was no gaunt and wasted frame ensconced between the boards, but a short stocky physique that still held the promise of hidden strength, in spite of his unkempt appearance and silver streaked, matted hair. But few cared to take a second look; most people giving him a wide berth, as though they were afraid of catching some dreadful disease from him.

      Berman smiled wryly to himself. It was exactly the effect he had taken so much trouble to achieve. He wanted no second looks.

      As he continued moving up and down the short section of Braebury Avenue, his eyes constantly vigilant for any sign of danger, he thought, I wonder how many customers the sandwich board has enticed into Toni’s for a meal? He shrugged his shoulders dismissively. What was it to him. So long as he got the few dollars that kept him fed, and afforded him a place to sleep; graded him one step above the unfortunates sleeping in the doorways and alleyways at night. Not that he felt pity for them. Pity was a weakness that he could ill afford to indulge in. In his profession it could well be his undoing.

      It had been necessary for him to disappear for a while; to hide behind a mask of degeneracy where no one would think to look for him. He had let himself go; forced himself to remain unwashed for days on end, with the absolute minimum of grooming, in order to maintain an authentic appearance.

      The role he had adopted was not altogether voluntary. He had been forced to stay away from his usual haunts. And he dared not visit any bank for funds. Those establishments were almost certainly being watched. Though, after several months, it was possible that it would be assumed that he had left the area; gone to another town; another State, even. At least, he hoped that to be the case.

      But he had underestimated the persistence of the company that called itself, MAGNUM REMOVALS and STORAGE, a euphemism for a group of organized assassins, and their determination to deal with rogue killers, like himself, who had taken the independent route; killers who were now no longer under their control. A reduction in their revenue was of concern. But it wasn't as much of an issue as their encroachment into the company’s monopoly.

      As he slowly paced the sidewalk, seemingly oblivious to everything around him, an insistent prickle began to gnaw at the back of his mind. It was a sixth sense of danger that he had acquired over years as a hired assassin, and it had become a warning that he never ignored. It had saved his life too often to be dismissed out of hand.

      He froze, his eyes searching; searching for anything odd; out of place. Anything that would account for his sudden sense of danger. His instant assessment saw only a car in the distance, now some two hundred meters in front of him. It had suddenly accelerated, drawing his attention. The navy blue Buick Enclave was tearing along the avenue towards him at breakneck speed, like some dark and evil missile bent on his destruction.

      Without conscious thought, his razor honed instincts took immediate control. He bent his knees suddenly, drawing his head down between the boards. With a heave of his arms he tossed the sandwich board aside, at the same time his right hand delved inside the tattered coat he wore. Before pedestrians could react to his sudden and unexpected movement,

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