Prologue: Assassin - 2011

He sprayed his legs and arms with a bug-killer, though the manufacturer's note on the side of the yellow and red can warned about using the insecticide on the skin. But he remembered the ants just as he was leaving the house and this was the best substitute.

He was lying in the sand, behind leafy bushes which dotted the golf course. He concentrated on his Russian VSS Vintorez 9mm/calibre sniper's rifle with silencer, moving his shoulder slightly so that there would be no change in the aim because of the recoil. The morning sun had burned away the cloud quickly and a faint mist rose from the grassy tee to his left. Despite the fly deterrent he felt ants plodding their way over his outstretched legs, but he dared not move.

Obaid's instructor in Phoenix had always told them. “Be prepared to remain immobile for hours. Even if a cow comes and smells your ass don't move. Make sure your rifle is ready to fire at the slightest touch of the trigger”.

Obaid could hear the traffic on the nearby highway. It had been peaceful during the night. He had at one time counted only three cars in five minutes but now they were screeching past every second, heading for early office meetings in the Middle Eastern boom city of Dubai.

The mission brief had said he would be on the golf course ready to tee off at 6.30 a.m. The sun was already encouraging the morning chorus of birds perched on the reeds near the 9th hole.

The assassin worried his white thobe, the traditional Arabic clothing, would be soiled by being pressed into the sand. Had anyone seen him park his car? Could he drive away swiftly and quickly? Were there alternative routes? He had left his car in the club car park and his golf trolley hidden behind a tree to his right. It was only about half a mile away. He had practised slipping the gun among the clubs on numerous occasions behind the high wall of his villa and knew he could make it disappear within seconds as he made his escape. He knew the security guards would not report for duty until 8a.m. In any case, his club membership sticker on the car windscreen ensured he would be waved through.

He could hear the swish of the sprinklers as the watering system began to smother the grass with a cool layer of droplets to protect the championship courses from the harsh sun which had made the desert underneath uninhabitable. Now the sand had been transformed into this green course fed by the waste water from the nearby aluminium plant, which was a blot on the shoreline starkly contrasting with the stylish five-star hotels now springing up on the beaches. The government planners had switched from heavy industry to tourism to ensure their future survival, when the oil disappeared.

He tried not to think of the target. “Remember, it's a job to be carried out. You have to make certain the bullet hits him in the killing zone, then move away as quickly as possible, unseen, your escape is as important as the hit, for were you to be caught, we will all be traced”.

Yes it's easy to make these statements in a class-room full of crew-cut commandos and marines wanting to be Rambo. But when the instructions arrive and the planning starts, then the nerves kick in. But his mind was wandering and he pinched himself to create some pain so that he could refocus on the target.

Obaid was surprised to see the partner of the target was a woman. A blond haired lady of about 35 years of age wearing yellow shorts and a light blue sports shirt. He could see that she was chatting to the target. Happy, full of vitality, revelling in the early morning round on this world championship course. But there were just two golfers and he had been told it would be a foursome. So he double-checked that he had chosen the right target. Yes that was Dr. Ali Ahmed. He was dressed in golfing attire not in a thobe but then he had seen from his previous surveillance that Dr. Ahmed often wore a Western suit for his duties at the University.

He was irritated his target was with a woman but he knew he would be able to kill him. In fact, she would not know anything until he collapsed on the tee.