Posted on December 15, 2009
A View To A Kill
Aside from the brief afternoon snowfall, Sunday was like any other Sunday. At least it should have been. In an effort to finalize our Christmas shopping, Andrea and I planned to meet at H&M in Pacific Centre before making the somewhat insane trek to Metrotown. In order to avoid the cold, I ducked into Sears and made my way through the mall to find her.
Photo: ***roham*** on Flickr
As I emerged from the department store into the lower level, making my way to the escalator, I was keenly aware of how many people were crowded everywhere I looked. As I scanned the countless faces, one in particular nearly stopped me in my tracks. I knew him, I knew his face and how he moved. I’d seen the reconnaissance footage nearly a dozen times; in doing so I studied more about him than he knew of himself when looking in the mirror. I knew he was wanted, I knew how incredibly elusive he was and I knew the tremendous threat of sheer terror he posed to everyone in his immediate radius.
I had two choices. I could use the near-microscopic radio in what appears to be my DKNY watch to call for immediate help and report the sighting or I could disable him myself. If I went for the second option, I had to be absolutely certain I could do it. Any room for error was non-existent with this many people around.
Being nearly 100 feet behind him, I quickened my step. Anything less than 50 feet was far too risky. I closed in, my heels hitting the faux marble floor to muffle the sound of the safety release inside my jacket. Were anyone to see the Glock 27 before I was ready to fire, any chance I had would evaporate.
40 feet. Now or never.
In one fluid movement, my handgun went from my inside pocket to being gripped between both hands. In less than a blink, it fired. The Christmas shoppers screamed in chorus. Some scattered while most dropped to the ground. The breath I’d been holding escaped my lips as I surveyed my work. The man who was not a suspect – but instead a legitimate target – was sprawled face-down on the floor. One direct hit and his entire body was disabled.
I live in a fantasy world. It’s a world I’ve danced in for most of my life, a world in which I’m a federal agent. Sometimes it’s CIA, sometimes it’s FBI and sometimes I’m even an assassin. A secret life of lies, precise expertise and incredible adventure.
In truth, as I walked through Pacific Centre on Sunday afternoon, this was exactly the scenario that played on the reel of my mind. As I walked to meet Andrea, I questioned myself as to whether or not I thought I could get a clear shot off in such a crowded mall if I had to. It immediately occurred to me that if i had any hope in hell of joining the CIA, I’d first need corrective laser eye surgery.