Kill Shot - An Abram Kinkaid Thriller

by Blake, Cameron

  "It's good, isn't it?" It was the man next to him again.

  Abram tried to swallow the last bite in his mouth and held his hand over his mouth.

  "Sorry," he said. "It's delicious. It's the best I've ever had."

  "Same here. Antonio has the best tacos in all of Canada."

  "I could believe it," Abram said.

  He tore off the edge of another tartar sauce and began squeezing it onto the second taco. He did the same with the mustard packets over the fries. He grabbed two and stuffed them in his mouth. The fries were delicious too. Abram wondered if the fries and fish were both marinated in the same batter. They were crunchy too. Abram stuffed a few more in his mouth before working on the second fish taco.

  Abram finished his snack several stand-cheering escapades later, and balled up the plate by his feet. The man next to him was staring intently at the player on their side of the court.

  "Who's playing?" Abram asked.

  "Javier Jones and Winston Sailes. Number 11 and 3 in their divisions. Whoever wins this match will go on to the semifinals against the number one-ranked seed in the country. And whoever wins that will qualify to play in the Wimbledon Open."

  "Impressive. I always thought players qualified at the Open."

  "That is mostly the case, but each player who wishes to be considered for the Open must submit an entry six weeks prior. And then the Wimbledon's Committee of Management determines which entries they will accept. These are based on the individual rankings each player is ranked at by the ATP."

  "I've not heard of the ATP."

  "Association of Tennis Professionals," he added.

  "You learn something new every day. Thanks."

  "You're not from around here, are you?" the older man said.

  He looked Abram up and down with a questioning look. Abram hadn't paid much attention before, but now he noticed the fine suit the man was wearing.

  "No, I'm just visiting."

  "First time to Canada?"

  Javier Jones scored another point. The stand rattled as hundreds of people stomped in excitement. Just one more round to go and he'd go to Wimbledon. The man's attention was on the court again.

  "You never answered me," he said.

  Abram wasn't used to people asking him a bunch of questions. He took a sip of his water to stall.

  "My parents brought me to Ontario when I was a baby, but this is my first time as an adult."

  "Exciting! Well, welcome to Ottawa. We're glad to have you."

  He extended his hand to Abram. Abram took it and the man gave him a strong shake.

  "Thank you."

  Abram flinched when his leg started vibrating. He pulled the burner phone from his pocket, forgetting it was there.

  "Hello," he answered.

  "We have the package's location."

  It was Sandra. Javier won his next set, inciting another cheer from the stands.

  "Where are you? What's the noise?"

  "I'm at a game. The one opponent just scored another point."

  "What kind of a game?"

  "Tennis. Why?"

  Sandra's line went quiet but he could hear her typing on her laptop.

  "Where exactly are you at this very moment?"

  "I'm at a park."

  "Which one?"

  "Stanley Park. Why, do you want to join me?"

  "Abram, I need you to listen to me very carefully."

  Her tone had an edge to it.

  "I'm listening."

  He switched the phone to his left hand and leaned forward, pressing his free hand over his ear.

  "The package is at your location."

  More cheers.

  "Repeat that, I couldn't hear you."

  "He is there. I repeat, the package is with you."

  Abram stood and gazed around at the crowd as if it were the first time he was seeing them. He scanned the heads looking for someone that might look like the minister.

  Javier Jones scored the winning point. The stands went nuts. The man next to Abram was clapping his hands emphatically in the air, a large smile on his face. He glanced at Abram and patted him on the shoulder.

  "We won!" he exclaimed. "I never caught your name."

  Abram's voice hung on the cord of eternity.

  "Abram," he said.

  "Prime Minister Gabbot. Nice to meet you," he extended his hand a second time.

  "Nice to meet you, too," Abram said, taking the man he was supposed to kill in his hand. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know it was you."

  "I'm just an ordinary guy. Nothing special. Enjoy your stay in Ottawa."

  He patted Abram on the arm then was escorted down the bleachers by three bodyguards. Abram hadn't even known they were there. They wore suits just like the two men he had passed coming through the crowd.

  The phone was screaming.

  "Abram, are you there?"

  "Yeah, I'm here."

  "Did you hear what I said? I'm uploading a profile now to your phone."

  His phone beeped a minute later. He opened the file, and while the photo was an older one, there was no mistaking it. The man in the photo and the one who he had been sitting right next to were one and the same.

  He felt sick. How could he be so close to the prime minister and not even know it?

  The crowd was dispersing down the bleachers. Antonio's trolley had a long line backed up toward the soccer field. He was rushing around in his truck placing orders.

  "Do you see him?" Sandra asked.

  Abram scanned the mass of people. He spotted the prime minister. The suits barricaded him from the crowd with their bodies. The minister shook hands as he went and took pictures. How could someone so jolly be so crooked?

  Philip came to mind. Because when you're psychotic, the crazy hides in plain sight.

  "I see him," Abram said. "Awaiting instruction."

  "Don't let him out of your sight."

  "Copy that."

  Abram clicked the phone closed and stuffed it back in his front pocket. He scooped up his trash. Something shiny caught his eye. He glanced down at the bench where the prime minister had been sitting. A Blackberry smartphone sat there like a black beacon. Abram snatched it before joining the swarm of bodies descending. He stuffed the folded plate into the waste can. It was full to the brim. He chugged the rest of his water and jammed it in as well.

  He maneuvered through the crowd until the prime minister was within view. He maintained a healthy distance. His heart was throbbing, his head pounding. The rush he’d felt in the radiation room returned.

  I see you, he whispered in his mind.

  Chapter 23

  The prime minister tried to shake as many hands as he could, but his bodyguards kept pushing him on. A crowd was their worst nightmare. You could never anticipate every scenario, and the more people you threw into the mix, the harder it was to act.

  The prime minister pressed through the crowd to where Javier Jones was being interviewed about his big win. The camera crew shifted their focus to the prime minister.

  "Prime Minister Gabbot, what did you think of the match?" a reporter from Ottawa Sun asked. He held a microphone to the prime minister.

  "It was a match between two of Canada's best. No matter the result, we win. I'm happy for Javier Jones for his win. And I wish him all the best at Wimbledon."

  The prime minister shook Javier's hand while they both posed for the cameras.

  "Congratulations on the win," the prime minister said.

  "Thank you, sir. It's an honor to have you here and to meet you."

  "Do us proud in England."

  "I'll do my best."

  The suits worked the prime minister away from the camera crews. Some of the news stations followed the prime minister, while a few remained with Javier Jones. The crowds continued to press in on the prime minister but the bodyguards did a good job of keeping them at bay. Three black Escalades with government plates were parked in the glass. They had driven up toward the tennis courts.

&
nbsp; The prime minister waved to everyone before one of the guards took his arm and led him forward. Abram rushed forward through the crowd of people. The bodyguards defending the prime minister's retreat saw him coming. He held up his hands, but it was too late. They took him down immediately.

  "We've got one," the guard pressing his face into the ground said into his mic.

  "I mean no harm," Abram said through bits of grass.

  "I'm sure you do," the guard said.

  "Check my right pocket. The prime minister left his phone on the bleachers."

  "He says he has the prime minister's phone in his pocket. Have the bomb unit on standby."

  "It's not a bomb," Abram said, the irritation beginning to build. "Just check my pocket. You'll see. If you don't believe me, just ask the prime minister. He was sitting right next to me during the match."

  The guard relayed the message to the others and control. He reached into Abram's pocket and pulled out the Blackberry. The guard tossed it to one of his team members, who had a bomb specialist look it over.

  It was cleared almost immediately. Abram was yanked to his feet, but the guard still held his arms behind his back.

  "Move," he said, and gave Abram a rough nudge forward.

  As they approached, one of the guards was talking to the prime minister and holding the phone. The prime minister took the phone and shook the guard's hand.

  "Mr. Prime Minister, he says he was sitting next to you during the match."

  The prime minister's eyes lit up when he saw Abram.

  "Yeah, he's our lucky charm. Are you the one who found my phone?" he asked.

  Abram nodded.

  "You can let him go now, thank you Jack." The bodyguard released Abram reluctantly and took position a few feet away.

  "Abram, right?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Thank you. Usually people who find phones keep them."

  "Well, it wasn't mine and I assumed it was yours, so, just thought you might like it back."

  Abram fought to restrain the adrenaline coursing through his body. He kept his hands cupped together, fearful that the shaking would give him away. His worst fears came true.

  The prime minister extended his hand to Abram. Abram looked at it as though it were a contagion. He took the prime minister's hand for a third time.

  "Again, I thank you. I appreciate your honesty and integrity. We could use more men like you in the world."

  How many times was Abram going to hear that ball of fluff? Scott Train had used the same lines.

  "That's kind of you, sir. But no thanks are needed. Nice to meet you again."

  Abram turned away and started to walk away. Every morsel in his body told him to do a one-eighty, rush the prime minister, and snap his neck. The likelihood of Abram getting that close before one of the guards tackled him, or shot him, were pretty slim. He focused on his breathing and keeping a steady gait.

  "Abram!"

  Abram slowly turned around to see the prime minister walking his way.

  "You said you were in town visiting?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "How long will you be in town for?"

  "About a week."

  The prime minister's face lit up.

  "You may have other plans, and I definitely do not wish to intrude on those, but I wondered, since it's your first time being in the country's capital, if you might like a private tour of some of the city's rich history."

  "That's very generous, Mr. Prime Minister, but I wouldn't want to impose."

  "Not at all! It would be my pleasure. I'll have my aide set it up."

  "Thank you, sir. That's very kind of you."

  The words were like poison dripping from Abram's tongue. Every fake smile, eye raise, and kind word was like another dagger to the chest. His skin itched. He needed to get away or they'd discover him. Abram looked for his retreat.

  "What are you doing tomorrow night?" the prime minister asked.

  "Tomorrow? I'm not sure."

  Why was he stalling? He needed to get out of there.

  "I'm hosting a banquet at my home for several political figures. Real bland, let me tell you. How would you like to join me as my guest? I could introduce you to the people who keep this country running."

  He winked.

  "I—uh—I don't know what to say."

  "Say yes."

  "Yes."

  Abram couldn't believe the word had come out of his mouth. He wanted to pummel himself to the ground.

  "Terrific!"

  The prime minister waved to a young brunette standing by one of the Escalades. She skirted across the lawn.

  "Yes, sir," she said.

  "Evelyn, this is Abram. He's going to be my personal guest tomorrow night. I need for you to add him to the list and make arrangements with the caterers. Make room at my table for him."

  "Sir," she whispered, leaning in, "your table is booked. Would you like for me to remove one of the senators?"

  "Yes, anyone will do. Our friend here deserves the best."

  Evelyn glanced at Abram. Her look told it all. What's so special about him? He couldn't agree more. Abram just wanted to get out of this situation as soon as possible. If that meant agreeing to this stupid party, then so be it. Not that he'd go anyway.

  "Yes, sir. I'll make the arrangements."

  "Evelyn here will give you all the details. I'll see you tomorrow night. Nice to meet you, and thanks for the phone." He raised his Blackberry in the air and shook Abram's hand once more.

  The guards scooted the prime minister into the middle Escalade, all three driving off at the same time.

  Evelyn cleared her throat.

  "So, what's your number?"

  She held her own Blackberry in her left hand.

  His leg vibrated again when he had finished giving the number to the hotel lobby to the prime minister's secretary.

  "Yeah?"

  "Keep walking straight."

  It was Scott.

  "We need to talk," Abram said. "You won't believe our luck."

  "We'll talk when we're somewhere private. Do you see us?"

  Abram saw a Capital Taxi off to the side of the road, partially hidden from view.

  "Yeah. I'll be there shortly."

  Abram flicked the phone and placed it in his pocket. Scott Train and Sandra were going to flip when they heard the prime minister had invited him to a private banquet tomorrow night as his personal guest. What were the odds? Things were looking up. Abram walked the rest of the way with a confident stride.

  Chapter 24

  "You're joking," Sandra was the first to say. "The prime minister invited you to his house? How did that happen?"

  The Capital Taxi had dropped Abram off at a local diner where Sandra was waiting for them. Scott Train and Abram joined her at a booth near the back. The restaurant had enough occupants with enough volume to have a private chat without being overheard.

  "I don't know. I unknowingly sat next to him during the match and we hit it off. I found his phone and returned it to him. I guess his phone is very important to him," Abram said. He took a sip of his lemonade. His stomach was growling.

  Abram didn't hide his facetiousness.

  "This plays in our favor. That confirms our Intel about his banquet, and gives us an in."

  "You are forgetting that there will be hundreds of politicians, police, and city officials present; not to mention all of the private security detail."

  "This is true. We'll need to figure out a way to secure a weapon. Every attendee will have to go through a metal detector before being admitted to the house. The getting in was the hard part, but now that you're on the list, that's covered. What else do you know about the party?"

  "Not much. Just what the prime minister told me."

  "We'll need to work out transportation for you," Sandra said, pulling out her phone to make some calls.

  "That won't be necessary. The prime minister's secretary, Evelyn, has already arranged for a car to pick me up from the Ott
awa Inn Hotel at 5:00 tomorrow. The party starts around 6:00."

  Sandra looked disappointed. She replaced her phone on her lap.

  Abram waved to the waiter.

  "Are you ready to order?" he asked. He wore a black vest with a red shirt, a white cloth draped over his left arm. His hair was slicked to the side and he portrayed a welcoming smile. Genuine.

  "Yes, I'd like to order the Chef's Special."

  "How would you like your steak cooked?"

  "Middle-well. And, could you add a side of macaroni and cheese, please."

  "Of course.

  "Thank you."

  "What will you be having, Madam?"

  Sandra hid her disdain for being called madam. Abram didn't understand why it bothered her so. She was, after all, a woman. Madam should be a compliment.

  "I'll have the blackened fish with asparagus."

  "Very good choice. And you sir?"

  "I'll have the porterhouse, as well. Rare."

  "Alright. I'll have your order out to you as soon as I can."

  Abram waited for the waiter to be out of earshot before speaking.

  "The prime minister has me sitting at the same table as him. He also offered to give me a private tour. We might be able to use that to our advantage. Maybe slip something in his drink in a needle."

  "The guards will pat you down. That won't work. We need to figure out another way to get him outside away from the crowd. That just leaves the weapon," Sandra said.

  "I could take one from one of the security detail," Abram offered.

  "Too risky. The prime minister will be heavily guarded at all times. There are never fewer than three or five with him at all times. Even if you managed to catch one of them off guard, the others would be too quick. It does us no good if you're dead."

  Scott Train offered a reassuring nod.

  "Good to know I'm not just a one-hit wonder," Abram said, aiming his words at Sandra. Her lips pursed slightly and she swallowed, knowing the words were meant for her.

  "So poison and guns are out of the question. What does that leave us with?" Abram said. He held up his arm. "And, this doesn't quite help the situation."