The Korean Encounter

I wrote this before the last american election so the John Kerry reference is bolllocks
It's a novel i'm working on i'd really like feed back.


The Korean Encounter.

Background:
It is 2005; John Kerry has just started his first term of presidency. He is already putting into action his plan to combat terrorism without going to war. A British special ops has been hired to assassinate the North Korean president Kim Jong II.

Prologue
It was warm, too warm for late spring and the sweat trickled down his forehead. He crouched behind the ledge at the edge of the roof, far below restaurants were closing for the night. He unslung the small backpack he wore, and took his rifle from his shoulder. He opened the bag and took from it the silencer and sight; he set about screwing the silencer to the barrel. The sight, he discovered when it was attached was out of focus.
He looked at his watch cursed and began to readjust the sight faster. He knew that he was running put of time and the president would be leaving the meeting soon. He finally got the focus right and trained his view to the eighth floor window where a presidential consultation was taking place.
With the sight he could see every thing inside the room, it was plain with little decoration, painted an off white, and typical of the tall glass building where it lay which contrasted strongly, with the little of the country he’d already seen. There was a table in the corner with various decanters of spirits, every one around the conference table look merry.
The sniper held his breath, steadying his aim, and positioned his cross hair on the presidents left pupil. Gently he squeezed the trigger; he felt the stiff spring push against his force. A senator moved to shake the presidents hand, stepped into his sight blocking the view. He released his pressure. He knew the president was due on a plane in 15 minutes so speed was imperative. The senator moved but was followed to the door by the president; he cursed again changing his aim following the president’s head. He had to do it now; sharply he brought his right index finger down on the trigger.
The recoil was no existent due to the precision and excellence the rifle had been made and customised. He grabbed his bag and slung his rifle and prepared to leave. Inside the building the president’s blood was soaking the royal blue carpet and had left a large stain on the wall. The senators not in shock were busy vomiting or phoning the police.
The sniper detached the rappel line from his belt and ran into the night.

Chapter 1

Three weeks had passed since Sam Carter had shot Kim Jong. He now sat in a small French Café, stirring a lukewarm cup of coffee; he’d been sitting here for two hours now, watching the waitress. He’d come to the café for his debriefing but his contact was late, he was just about to leave when he saw the waitress.
She was petite, about 5’6” with shoulder length dark hair, through the thin cotton of her white blouse he could see the shape of her pert breasts.
His musings were interrupted by the door opening, he turned to see a group of middle aged business men, he turned back to catch sight of the waitress bending over, her short black skirt stretching over her firm buttocks.
Sam’s view was blocked by a large man, who sat down opposite him,
“You’re late,” said Sam, leaning slightly to be able to see the waitress
“Sorry I’m still on Hong Kong time,” the large man followed Sam’s eyes to the waitress,”nice”
“Thanks.”
“Have you…?” he said with a nod toward the waitress
“Not yet,” Sam let a smile creep to the corner of his mouth, “what’s happening about Jong?”
“The Koreans haven’t announced his death yet, but he’s made no appearances on Korean TV since last month. Kerry’s counting it a success.”
“What’s next?”
“You’re familiar with CIA, yes?”
“I may have heard of them.” Sam’s tone was sarcastic,
“Well it appears that they have a pest problem,”
“Pest?”
“A mole.”
“Ah.”
“It seems that the Russians and the Iranians have been receiving information about top secret American weapons. The Russians have even been improving and using them, did you know that the have improved the patriot missiles for ground use, as well as anti air,”
“Impressive.”
“I know.”
“And the Americans are pissed?”
“You got it, they want some one to go in and pretend to be a new recruit, go in and befriend the mole.”
“How?”
“They’ll find you. The last 6 new recruits have all left the CIA with a hell of a lot of info, and a hell of a lot of cash. This is on top of stuff that the moles leaking through special transmissions. This is big for the Americans; this is their biggest security leak ever.
The man got up, “A car will be sent to your flat tomorrow morning, for now go home, get some sleep and I’ll see you when you’re done.”
He left; Sam downed his coffee, shuddered at the foul of the cold liquid. He contemplated another cup, but decided against it, took on last look at the waitress and left.

Sam had a small flat in Central Toulouse in an area full of restaurants and bars; it wasn’t hard to get a taxi there. He arrived home about six, most of the restaurants were in the middle of their first sitting, and the area was full with tourists and parties. He unlocked the door to his flat, he lived on the first floor, the ground floor being a small bar used mainly by locals, he got to his flat via a small flight of stair to the side of the bar.
He pushed open the door and felt by his right shoulder for the light switch. He flicked it.

Chapter ?

I had come to this; this was why he’d nearly been killed twice, why he’d innocent people, why he’d toppled a regime and why one of his friends was dead.
Sam’s fist shot into Al’s chin, caught off balance Al fell heavily into a bookcase, making it rain Wordsworth and Tension and any thing else the fat man in front of him thought would impress visitors to his office. Al got up from the floor, and felt his bleeding lip with two fingers,
“With Saddam and Jong out of the picture the future is bright happy democratic one,”
“Where, with the treaty with Russia America has no threats, and total power.” He spat.
“I don’t know why you’re so angry, because of your services the president you’re going to be made an honorary American citizen and your every wish granted.” another blow, this time to Al’s ample belly Sam picked up the letter opener from the desk, “Listen you fat American Bastard, there is no bloody way I’ll let your paltry country rule the world,” he was making his accent overly British.
“I’ve killed presidents before, what makes yours so special? And he trusts me now so I could pick my way of killing him.” Carter moved to the corner, and took the long black case that contained his rifle, “bye,” the letter opener flicked across Al’s neck; he gagged, cofed up blood and fell to the floor. His blood began to soak the pile of books on to which he fell.
Sam left the room, walked back to the clean white reception with its pretence of art, informed the PA Al was having a nap and told her to wake him in a few hours.
The president was in New York today, and a couple of hours was more than enough time, he’d told Lei that his idle was Lee Harvey Oswald, and he would succeed where Oswald failed. He walked through the swing door, knocking the head from one of the flowers sitting in the decorative tubs by the door. It lay on the white marble floor, its purple petals curled slightly at the edge.
Carter laughed to himself as he bleeped the Porsche open, and set off for time square.