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by Dawn Caunce
"Is he in?" Carlisle Ranking head of security burst in through the white pannelled doors.
"You can't go in. Ranking! He has men in there." The secretary raised to her feet.
"Can't wait sorry," he said shouting back.
The President, seated at the board table with several stuffy suits, looked perturbed.
Ranking held up an evelope. The President acknowledged and ushered the suits out of the
Once the white doors had securely shut he addressed his Chief of Security.
"Ranking, sit. take a seat."
"How many is that now?"
"Three, Sir, we now have to take this seriously!"
"It could just be a prankster, Ranking."
"Three threats Mr President"
"What's this one say?"
"Same, that he know's. Knows what? I haven't done anything."
Ranking knew this be incorrect and was pretty sure he had walked in on yet another dodgy deal, but for now his job was to protect him.
"Sir, calm, you will get your palps again, I have an idea."
The President's complexion paled. "What do you suggest, Ranking?"
"I think you and your family should go to the retreat."
"What will I tell them?"
"That you need a break, your palpations have come back. I don't know, no disrespect, Sir, but your wife is the least of your worries," said Ranking with a wry smile. The President felt uneasy.
The car pulled up on the dirt track. No one within miles, nobody would know he was here.
"Little after noon, not bad time there, Geoffers," the President said as his chauffeur opened the car door.
"Yes, Sir, Ranking, told me to take the back roads, so no one could follow."
In a motel across town, a man, roughly shaven grabbed the hat from the bedside table. Staring at his reflection he hardly recognised the man staring back.
Half an hour's drive later he pulled up at the end of the track, turned off the engine and got out, walking the rest of the way.
Taking a key, he slowly opened the cabin door. Standing in the shadows of the dark, he crept around the cabin, careful not to be heard. Third off the right, he knew the room well.
Watching as the pig snored heavily in a deep slumber, he pulled out the knife, glinting in the moon's casting light. Lifting his arm high in the air, a wry smile creeping upon his smug face, he plunged the first thrust deep into the President's sleeping body. The knife rebounded against the foam.
"What!" he said holding up the stuffed fake body.
"Ranking!" Ranking turned as a solitary shot fired through the air and hit him in between the shoulder blade. Eyes wide in disbelief he stood facing The President as another shot hit his body and abruptly ended years of resentment.
The President opened the crumpled paper."Watch your security." The tip off had saved his life.
This story was based on these randomly generated images.