Assassin: Ann Thrope Series Book 1

by Richard Weale

  ASSASSIN

  Richard Weale

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Parallel Universe - Present

  2. Space

  3. Earth - Bristol - Present Day

  4. Space - Alpha Centauri

  5. Earth - Portugal - Present

  6. Earth - London - Present Day

  7. Space - The Crystal City

  8. Space - The Station

  9. The Station

  10. Horse Head Nebula - Sunshine

  11. London

  12. Earth - Paris - Present Day

  13. Sunshine

  14. The Crystal City

  15. Space

  16. Sunshine

  17. Earth - Surrey - Present Day

  18. London - The Savoy

  19. Earth - Amsterdam - 2059

  20. Space

  21. Space

  22. Space

  23. Earth - Scotland - Present

  24. Scotland

  25. Earth - Vietnam - 1967

  26. Scotland

  27. Earth - Kyoto - 1604

  28. Scotland

  29. Kyoto - 1609

  30. Scotland

  31. Scotland

  32. Scotland

  33. Kyoto - 1614

  34. Scotland

  35. Earth - New York - Present

  A word from Richard

  Please Leave A Review

  In The Ann Thrope Series

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Prologue

  The sound of the explosion was deafening. A head that reminded her of red jelly appeared for a brief second, then vanished into scarlet mist. Miss Ann Thrope gently squeezed her trigger and another Mercenary evaporated. She never really understood the technical function of the futuristic weapons her friend from the future provided, just that they worked.

  Whipping around with a lightning speed that belied her appearance, she casually erased three more. That’s how she saw this space pistol, or ray gun as she told it to her grandchildren at their bedtime stories, like an eraser, rubbing out a smudge on her beautiful pencil drawings.

  Racing ahead at breakneck speed she dived low under the incoming fire, and into a roll as her Eraser led before her, sending a volley of precision shots into the concealed hard-bitten Mercenaries trying to pin her down with their targeted bursts.

  Silently Miss Thrope edged her way down the dimly lit metallic corridor. In this future age, in a distant galaxy, security was controlled by the Station, which was almost sentient. In this distant future every surface, space, temperature gradient, any physical parameter was controlled and monitored by the Station.

  The only possible way to be covert was with the use of very special counter technology; physical hacking. She walked down the corridor with complete confidence of, in essence, being an invisible, undetectable, physical virus.

  That was her first mistake.

  The creature that sank its huge claws into her shoulder pulled her backwards. Also sentient, it paused just a little too long before sinking its scything jaws into its victim.

  Having dropped her blaster, Miss Thrope was surviving purely on instinct. The long-bladed stiletto from her wrist sheath appeared in her hand, and she thrust it behind her, through the soft flesh below the monster’s jaw, aiming for its tongue. With a roar of pain, the great leviathan reared back, opening up her shoulder wound, and nearly tearing her other arm out of its socket.

  The smell of rotting flesh from the creature’s open maw nearly overpowered her. Its teeth were as long as her arm, and its slitted yellow eyes radiated venom. Ignoring the terrible pain in both shoulders she took an incendiary grenade from her harness, then activated it with her neural net. Her friend’s grenades were very sophisticated. She picked `bang,’ on a scale from one to ten, of two. With the beast’s next roar, she casually threw it down its throat.

  Should have picked one, she thought as she limped down the metal passageway, completely deafened, and covered in ribbons of stinking flesh.

  One

  Parallel Universe - Present

  Miss Ann Thrope had found an edge of the universe. A parallel universe. It wasn’t readily apparent because it looked the same. The street in front of her, the seedy bar like any seedy bar on 21st century Earth, seemed continuous. That’s why it looked the same. Anything fast couldn’t cross the gap, like bullets or a speeding car, but if one was to casually saunter, one might not even be aware that the gap had been crossed.

  Covertly she entered the bar. Looking about, she was aware that there was more of a difference than in time.

  The barman polished a glass and watched the woman sitting alone at a table in the corner sipping her drink. She stood out like a sore thumb, not because of her garish outfit, black and purple silk string dress, orange combat boots, small silver skulls on a chain around her neck. After all this bar did cater to an unusual clientele, but her skin colour, it was pink. All the rest of his customers had flesh that was shades of green.

  She sat at the table enjoying her drink and pretending to read the newspaper. Sensing a change, a ripple of tension in the room, she knew the Mark had arrived. There seemed to be a quiet oasis of calm around her, although the bar itself was heaving. The noise level was off the scale, raucous music, shouting, laughter, conversation, video screens. Near her a group of old men were playing a game that looked like nine spot dominoes. The Mark had joined the table and was being dealt into the game. Behind him towered two guards; hard men with subtle bulges in the right places in their jackets.

  Getting up from her table, she placed the newspaper down, and wandered towards the exit, taking a path that would pass by the game.

  The Mark, Harold Brickman, warlord, watched the strange lady with the skull necklace cross the room.

  As she made her way through the heaving bar, she walked in clear sight. She knew the Mark was aware of her. His eyes were looking straight at her, and she gave him her most winning smile. The Mark returned her smile. Technology was all very well but simplicity was best. She noticed the two guards behind him hadn’t focused on her in the same way, knowing that would be to her advantage. They were a type she recognized. Smart haircuts, clean shaven, designer suits, dead eyes. As she drew level with the table, she caused the dealer to drop the tile he was passing to the Mark. Just a manipulation of the space-time continuum trick she had learnt from her friend, Lord Stiletto, when they had visited the famous casinos in the Julian Constellation.

  As the Mark reached forward to pick up the tile, she reached a hand into her corset, and removed the thin blade concealed amongst its ribs. Then casually leaning over, she slid it un-noticed into the neck of the Mark. Carrying on past, she was a step beyond before his head smashed into the table top, scattering tiles in all directions.

  Cat-like, the two guards whirled to face her, drawing their guns. The quicker of the two, although bulkier than his partner, already had his barrel pointing at the strange woman when his pupils dilated in surprise at the gun of some sorts in her steady hand. A narrow beam of light went through his pupil, and before he could sense that the eye was blind, the energy expanded within his brain and he no longer sensed anything.

  His friend was lucky. Despite years of training and combat experience, the sudden explosion of his buddy’s head right next to him distracted him for a brief second, and when he turned back to the assassin, she had gone.

  Two

  Space

  “When we played our charade…”

  The words of the song hung in the air. “When we played our charade.” It was all tumbling down around his shoulders. Tied to the beautiful glass table, Charlie Smith, conman and chancer, ruminated on
the vagaries of life. The caper had been a good one. Complicated, it was true, but that had been the beauty of it. Picking The Man, as their victim, that had been their first mistake.

  Many years ago, he had received good advice. Wisdom, from a cell mate on a prison asteroid. Not that he realised it at the time. “Don’t mess with a force of nature. Not unless you are determined and able to deal with everything that comes, with the utmost conviction.”

  Well, The Man, and his empire, that hung around him like smoke clouds around a volcano, was a force of nature.

  How quickly it had all gone wrong. Now he had been left to contemplate. In a way, that was the start of the torture. The imagination, the little drop of fear and terror running around in his brain.

  Utter darkness, and then, there was light, and then it began….

  The Man rinsed his hands in the ebony sink, washing away the blood and the lingering distaste. Goddamn punks. Trying to scam Him. Would they never learn? Still he had to make an example, or they would all be trying it.

  A message awoke in his ear, “Boss, trouble at table three.”

  He nodded to the maid. She was very efficient. He knew on his return the corpse would be gone, and his dining table left spotless.

  A mature lady, impeccably dressed, seemed to be a little flustered as she conversed with the croupier.

  “Well young man,” she spoke in her strange off world accent. “I placed my chip on the red, my ball came in, where are my winnings?”

  The croupier tried to explain the rules of the house. The lady was obviously getting upset and there was a crowd drawing around and murmuring. No one wanted to see an elegant lady of a certain age treated badly.

  The Man, himself a masterclass in elegance and couture, gave a little bow and asked the lady if there was anything he could do to help.

  “It’s all been too much.” She sighed and, taking a beautiful delicate handkerchief from her sleeve and wiping away a tear, “never in all my travels…”

  The unfinished sentence hung in the air as The Man considerately picked up her dropped handkerchief.

  That was his first mistake.

  Three

  Earth - Bristol - Present Day

  Two new contracts successfully completed. Miss Ann Thrope was feeling more than a little pleased with herself, sipping her glass of Sauvignon Blanc with a sigh of satisfaction. It was a beautiful autumn afternoon, and she was enjoying the English sunshine. She loved this time of year, and there were some darling boutiques in Clifton Village she might stroll to later. She was sitting on the terrace of a hotel on the rim of the wonderful Avon Gorge. The river sparkled far below, and Brunel’s great iron bridge spanned the expanse.

  Her diary enabled her to keep track of her engagements in her own time on Earth. Being a Master of the space-time continuum, she was able to go anywhere in time and space, but it required a high degree of organisation. Checking it now, she saw that she was free for a while and contemplated a tour of the rings of Saturn. It was so marvellous to be able to nip off to the future and experience the wonders of the universe. She deserved a rest; after all, life wasn’t all work and no play.

  As careful as she was, she was unaware that she was under surveillance.

  It was easy for Ferret to hack into the primitive Earth spy satellites to use them to monitor her. For the last week they had been following her all over the planet. Weasel glanced at Ferret as he uploaded the report. He looked at Miss Thrope on the sun filled terrace, thinking, Yes, enjoy your wine, whilst you can.

  Four

  Space - Alpha Centauri

  Stoat was the muscle.

  He made up the team of three. Two hundred kilos and well honed. He was shabby in an elegant way. His suit was quality but ill cared for and so he stood out. He could have been good. He was kind to kittens and his old gran, but all things considered, Stoat was not very nice.

  The three of them were drinking slammers in a dingy bar on one of the slave moons near Alpha Centauri. Huddled in an alcove away from the noise and the product. This was the kind of bar where credits could satisfy the most perverted of tastes.

  “Get anything useful?”

  “Plenty about shoes. I’m thinking of going into the fashion business.”

  “Taking the piss?”

  “Yes. She pops up, on the radar, so to speak. Lunches, shops, goes to galleries. Cities and towns all over the planet. Always cute places.”

  “What ya mean, cute?” cut in Ferret.

  Weasle hesitated, picked up the bottle, then poured another round of drinks. “You know. Old buildings, postcard landscapes, you know, cute.”

  Five

  Earth - Portugal - Present

  Miss Thrope gazed across the bay as the little boats glinted on the water. She loved the Amalfi coast in the fall. She had just enjoyed a delicious luncheon of small fresh fish delicately cooked with local vegetables, accompanied by a wonderful glass of Soave, the dry white Italian wine exciting her refined palate. Life was definitely full of magic. She felt the Mediterranean sun on her skin and luxuriated in its warmth.

  It wasn’t just the shadow that took away her warmth, it was the unusual smell. Not otherworldly, but not of this world. Springing upwards like an exploding vortex, she casually took a fine china plate, smashed it on the table edge, then holding it firmly in her elegant hand, glided it through the crease of the throat just above where you’d expect to find an Adam’s apple. Blood erupted in a spray that quite ruined her beautiful new dove grey dress, covering her face in a fine patina of red mist.

  All around her diners screamed as tables, chairs and fine china crashed in the ensuing panic. Making sure she had her bag, Miss Thrope ran to the edge of the quay and dived into the tranquil water.

  A small child, forgotten by his panicked mother, watched the surface where the funny lady had dived in, waiting for her to pop back up like a seagull, but the water stayed mirror calm, and hearing the frantic sobs above him, he went to put a comforting hand on his mother’s knee.

  Six

  Earth - London - Present Day

  Miss Ann Thrope stood back to admire the picture. One of the most amazing musical artists of the last half century had died recently and the family had put his private art collection up for sale at Sotheby’s, one of the Earth’s great auction houses.

  A particular painting had caught her fire. A beautiful oil positioned on its own in the corner. A bold modern canvas with strong primary colours that spoke to her deeper self. This show was just the preview for the auction. A short showing of a selection of the musician’s paintings, sculptures and furniture. He had a very eclectic choice she thought. The full show was in three months, followed by the auction. She would return and bid for the picture, after all, what was one to do with all those fees, if not to enjoy and taste a little beauty?

  Then lunch at a lovely little bistro on the edge of Mayfair and Soho, a quick spin around Liberty, just for fun, then a very enjoyable evening at Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club in Soho. A wonderful quartet. Their playing seemed to capture the very rhythms of the universe.

  “Can I assist you Madam?”

  She was standing alone by the curb of the Soho street. There was no traffic at this late hour. Turning her head slowly, she looked up into the cold eyes of the clumsily dressed giant beside her, met his gaze, and in her silken voice, told him, “I’m afraid you are making a serious mistake.” The man, a brutal but subtle character, looked into the beautiful eyes, delicately wrinkled at the corners, and felt a cold ball of sweat trickle down his spine.

  Still, a cool fellow, he maintained his composure, only a slight whitening of his cheeks, and a shortness of breath betraying his fear, as he apologised and quickly retraced his steps down Frith Street.

  Miss Thrope smiled as she felt his presence fade into the night, and with a spring in her step was on her way.

  Seven

  Space - The Crystal City

  The Crystal City was one of the wonders of the universe. No one really under
stood how old it was or who had made it. Even now in the records of the ‘Verse, it was tens of thousands of years old. About the size of the moon that orbited the Earth, it was a feat of three-dimensional architecture that amazed all who beheld it. Not quite spherical, it was like a translucent honey comb of silken threads that transmitted light to every single part within its matrix. No matter where one was within its substance, there was a feeling of space and light and a oneness with the incredible beauty of the universe surrounding it.

  Approaching the Crystal City physically from Space, the ancient way, was simply breath taking. In the same way that the great Earth cities of Hong Kong, New York, Cork Town, were best approached by sea. Like the original immigrants passing the Statue of Liberty through the fogs of the Hudson, the approach to the Crystal City was truly staggering.

  Miss Ann Thrope sat on the viewing deck, sipping her Hendricks and tonic and soaking in the incredible view. A small part of her marveled at all the thousands of beings below locked into their alternate reality consoles whilst the real thing was here and now. The Crystal City glittered like a great chandelier suspended in the giant ballroom of space. No wonder it had become a major tourist site, although only for the extremely wealthy.