“Pa,” said Hosh. “I’m submitting a story for my College magazine again this year. Can you check it please, before you go to Office?”
“Sure,” said Rosh, as he walked down the steps and took the printed sheet.
Hosh hugged him and together they sat down on the sofa and read…
Soundlessly, she crept up the steps to the tenth floor of the dilapidated building. The sky was clear, but the sun was dying.
She set up her telescopic rifle on the sturdy tripod in the bare room by the broken window.
Her casual attire hugged her smooth and elegant body, as she peered through the cross hairs and concentrated. She attached the silencer and adjusted the aim to account for the divergence caused by the silencer.
She clipped the transmitter to the mechanical hand that would press the trigger and control the rifle’s zoom and lateral movements. She tested it again. Satisfied, she descended the steps, and stepped into the deserted street.
Keeping her head low, and never looking up, she walked the three blocks to the Theatre basement garage where her car was parked. She got in, peeled off her face mask and disguise, and put it in the acid canister that sat below the passenger seat in her car.
Changing quickly into a dark business suit, she shredded off her casuals into pieces before feeding them also to the voracious canister. Out of the car in less than two minutes after having climbed in, she drained the acid in the storm water drain and disposed of the canister in the basement junkyard.
Then she climbed back into her car, signed into her iPad and stopped her garage script one final time. The script had hacked into the garage CCTV server, paused its unmanned recording, and remotely fed the garage recorder her own pre-made footage every time she had visited here.
Just as the garage cameras reactivated and started actually recording, the script was deleting its own footprint from the registry of the CCTV server and her iPad. She checked herself in the back view mirror and drove out to the Xucorp Complex.
She had a fool-proof alibi, as to why she had been here, if she was ever questioned on this. She thought now of the board meeting, which was about to start in just under an hour.
She parked in her allocated space, and rode up alone in her private elevator to her office on the tenth floor. She examined herself one last time in the full length mirror of the elevator and cleared her throat. She looked and sounded her usual confident self.
She was committed now, she knew. The elevator stopped. The doors opened. She walked out.
“Everything’s on schedule, ma’am,” her waiting secretary beamed at her.
She nodded cheerfully at her, and walked briskly towards the Boardroom.
Mark, the C.E.O, was already seated. She nodded pleasantly at him as she took her customary seat on his left. Her tabletop lighted up revealing her virtual console. She typed in her Deputy C.E.O. authorization codes.
Information about the billion-dollar project began dancing on her tabletop screen. She pressed a hidden menu item on her screen and watched with satisfaction as Mark’s head filled up the minute window.
She toggled the window off, and placed two pens on the tabletop, one on either side of where the virtual window had appeared on the screen, to hide it in plain view from prying eyes – next time she toggled it back on.
It would be perfect. Technology would ensure that, despite the distance and other difficulties. One shot. Clean kill.
Soundlessly, she crept up the steps to the tenth floor of the dilapidated building. The sky was clear, but the sun was dying.
She set up her telescopic rifle on the sturdy tripod in the bare room by the broken window.
Her casual attire hugged her smooth and elegant body, as she peered through the cross hairs and concentrated. She attached the silencer and adjusted the aim to account for the divergence caused by the silencer.
She clipped the transmitter to the mechanical hand that would press the trigger and control the rifle’s zoom and lateral movements. She tested it again. Satisfied, she descended the steps, and stepped into the deserted street.
Keeping her head low, and never looking up, she walked the three blocks to the Theatre basement garage where her car was parked. She got in, peeled off her face mask and disguise, and put it in the acid canister that sat below the passenger seat in her car.
Changing quickly into a dark business suit, she shredded off her casuals into pieces before feeding them also to the voracious canister. Out of the car in less than two minutes after having climbed in, she drained the acid in the storm water drain and disposed of the canister in the basement junkyard.
Then she climbed back into her car, signed into her iPad and stopped her garage script one final time. The script had hacked into the garage CCTV server, paused its unmanned recording, and remotely fed the garage recorder her own pre-made footage every time she had visited here.
Just as the garage cameras reactivated and started actually recording, the script was deleting its own footprint from the registry of the CCTV server and her iPad. She checked herself in the back view mirror and drove out to the Xucorp Complex.
She had a fool-proof alibi, as to why she had been here, if she was ever questioned on this. She thought now of the board meeting, which was about to start in just under an hour.
She parked in her allocated space, and rode up alone in her private elevator to her office on the tenth floor. She examined herself one last time in the full length mirror of the elevator and cleared her throat. She looked and sounded her usual confident self.
She was committed now, she knew. The elevator stopped. The doors opened. She walked out.
“Everything’s on schedule, ma’am,” her waiting secretary beamed at her.
She nodded cheerfully at her, and walked briskly towards the Boardroom.
Mark, the C.E.O, was already seated. She nodded pleasantly at him as she took her customary seat on his left. Her tabletop lighted up revealing her virtual console. She typed in her Deputy C.E.O. authorization codes.
Information about the billion-dollar project began dancing on her tabletop screen. She pressed a hidden menu item on her screen and watched with satisfaction as Mark’s head filled up the minute window.
She toggled the window off, and placed two pens on the tabletop, one on either side of where the virtual window had appeared on the screen, to hide it in plain view from prying eyes – next time she toggled it back on.
It would be perfect. Technology would ensure that, despite the distance and other difficulties. One shot. Clean kill.
Time flew as she busied herself in the project. The boardroom filled up quickly. Finally, the clients arrived. Pleasantries were exchanged, people seated around the conference table. Lights were turned down. Her presentation began.
Her virtual console projected charts and pictures up, as she spoke. She cascaded the project window on her tabletop screen and toggled the little hidden window back on, invisible to anyone except herself, as she peered down at her tabletop.
No adjustment was needed. She pressed Enter.
A bullet journeyed to its destination. There was no sound, but blood appeared in the little window. She pressed Enter again. The window vanished instantly and the program self-destructed, cleaning her registry entries to wipe-off its footprints.
Far away in the dilapidated room, acid exploded from the tripod base, damaging everything along with the rifle. In the Boardroom where she sat, Mark’s lifeless head hit the table with a dull thud. Then, there was chaos.
On cue, she shuddered for the benefit of Boardroom CCTV cameras, looking as shocked at the sight of actual blood, as the others. She knew the camera footage would be viewed and analyzed thousands of times in NYPD and Interpol offices across multiple countries.
Forensic programs, trained animals and specialized detectives would be intensively scanning and extensively sniffing from Earth and Sky over the next month. Mark’s exit would stir up the hornet’s nest, plunge the company stock and begin the greatest manhunt in the history of New York.
Detectives arrived soon. Investigations began. She sagged with time, as expected. It was a long night.
“A bloody mess!” muttered the chairman, as he prepared to leave.
“Have we lost the project now?” he asked her.
“Not as long as I live,” she replied tiredly.
“Board will confirm you as C.E.O. tomorrow,” he said. “Call the Press Conference before the New York Stock Exchange opens. I’ve got Legal working on Media Releases already.”
She nodded grimly.
He walked out to go home, and get some shut-eye. A new day had begun.
