Chapter 1

 

The White House, the residence of the American president, one of the two houses in this world from where it is ruled, or at least that is the way the power gathered there is being presented to the mortals.

The White House, the house that is the beginning and the end of many political events and processes in the world.

The White House, the only house that is found in dreams, even of the ones who own bigger and more beautiful houses.

The White House, the house whose parties are the goal of the guests eager for gaining prestige.

The White House, the motive of the ambitious and the vain.

The White House, the dream of the ultimate power.

"I'd rather be a Mafia boss than the President of the U.S.A." the famous singer and entertainer Frank Sinatra confided to a close friend once.

If Sinatra makes an exception, Alfred Bagshaw doesn't, because he was the person qualified to be the president of the U.S.A.: WASP1, White, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant. He was happily married, not that rich to provoke subconscious envy in the average citizen, but also not that poor to be thrown out of the higher class. He was just rich enough to be considered a successful businessman.

Involved in politics since the day he finished college, he realized from other politicians' experience that it was the only way to get to the president's seat, the road that leads through a congressman's, senator's, secretary's, to president's place.

By the way, there are business successes in a joint company added to the pro­fessional political career. This profit and the entire family treasure were not enough for a successful pre election campaign, but Bagshaw, as a skillful politician, managed to pile up rich election contributions and grasp the trust of the back­ground people.

 

1 John Kennedy was the only American president so far who was not a WASP. He was Catholic.

             

                                                              

He was always in the middle of the public interest and created a national image of a capable politician who provided security and justified the trust he gained as if he was the one predestined to presidential role. That was strength­ened by political cornerstones nonexistent at his rivals. Of course, the rich polit­ical experience does not guarantee a successful mandate by itself, but the image that was created was a guarantee for it.

Besides all the qualities, he was supposed to be an excellent combiner and mystifier, and a decent person with an impeccable private and intimate life, for the public, of course. And finally, Alfred Bagshaw had the thing that was neces­sary for the president to have, according to the opinion of the average American: a good physique2.

That was why he became the president of the U.S.A.

The White House opened its doors for its first tenants, John and Abigail Adams, in 1800. Since then, it has served as a home for the president's family, business premises, and a museum.

Its one hundred and thirty-two rooms, together with the other buildings of the complex called the White House, provide easy and comfortable life for its tenants. Seven hectares of nicely arranged park give them the opportunity to feel the beauty of the nature in the middle of the city. Armies of servants serve and take care of the hygiene during the whole week, and they work in two shifts. The president lives and works in twenty-five rooms on the second and third floors, sit­uated in the west and east part of the building. He watches movies in a special hall of sixty-five seats. He receives the copies free of charge from Hollywood stu­dios. They have been following this tradition for a long time. He can add his own butler and chambermaids or cooks to the regular body of servants and employees.

But he has to accept the nonstop services and the company of secret and uniformed agents whom he has no right to choose.

Executive Protective Service is responsible for the security of the White House and the building of the Executive Office. Its uniformed members cover forty places. They communicate to each other through a radio line and an operator. They have to be checked for their shooting abilities every month. If someone fails, he has to start the course from the beginning. The number of people is around three hun­dred. There are women also, and they work for twenty-four hours.

The main responsibility in the president's protection falls to the Secret Service, which is part of the Ministry of Finance. This was established in 1865 at the time of Abraham Lincoln's assassination. The Secret Service Training Center is in the state of Maryland, in the town of Batesville. Successful students become "higher secret agents," or more popularly known as "state gunmen," or "G-men" (government men). Their previous record must include work on the same area the Ministry covers: discovering dollar forgerers, government bonds, and checks. The most capable of the ones who survive the hard service among the forgers are chosen for the small circle of president's security. Then they become "higher agents." Of course, providing they pass and display excellent results at all psy­chophysical tests and exercises in swimming, skiing, driving, and riding. In addi­tion, they are not to be shorter than five feet, ten inches, and no taller than six feet, and they must be in perfect physical and mental health. In addition, they need to have a college degree and a high police school diploma.

 

 

 

2Very few presidents had great physical quality.

 

                                                             

 

 

When it comes to weapons, the agents use Uzi automatic 9 mm in both vari­ants, with a short barrel or with a butt plate, with or without a silencer, and short shotguns. They also use Smith & Wesson revolvers of classical and Magnum vari­ants, as well as the Colt Automatic .45 of 11.45 mm.

They are equipped with various technical means whose function is to dis­cover any possible danger. It mainly means eavesdropping, discovering and elim­inating "bugs," and locating planted explosives. All of these miniature devices are placed in a black briefcase made of solid synthetic material, which is magnum shot-resistant. There is an automatic in it with a trigger hidden in the internal part of the handle and a strong light source for self-protection, which blinds the attacker for four hours.

The president's car, a prolonged Lincoln Town, armored and equipped with a communication system, is followed by a line of ten cars full of bodyguards, a van full of weapons, medical materials for giving first aid, and additional staff who are trained to give help in any "unexpected" situation. Apart from this, the White House is armed with antiaircraft missiles.

How is it possible to kill the president of the U.S.A. with all this security?

 

 

                                        

 

 

Chapter 2

 

Ernest Crump thought about his goal while comfortably sitting in first class of the Transcontinental Plane. He already knew the reasons for his trip.

Professional assassins rarely travel to their orderers, especially if they are self-employed and do not belong to any clan of organized crime. Ernest Crump was one of the rare, individual, top professional assassins. He liked to believe he was the best beyond any competition in the underground world. He had the qualities necessary for that kind of people. That enabled him to stay away from the eyes and hands of law for twenty years. Any comparison to the unscrupulous killers of various gangs or Mafias was an insult to his per­sonality and profession. He despised them—he felt superior, intellectually and technically. His assassinations were works of art, and he himself was a perfect master of killing, capable of fulfilling every wish his clients had. He enjoyed high status and reputation among his colleagues. He felt self-satis­faction and delight after a successful action. He strived toward perfection. He was an intellectual among the manuals.

And nobody knew where he lived.

Only few people knew where he could be reached for job. He offered discre­tion, and he required discretion. He used PO boxes to communicate with his cus­tomers. Before he retired to deep secrecy, he had to spend several years in public to create an image and provide future contacts. Then he disappeared without a trace. The myth remained, and only a small circle of big criminal bosses knew the way to reach him.

He chose a glass of orange juice the stewardess offered him. He did not drink or smoke, and he regularly worked on his fitness. He knew only those martial arts movements that were enough to defeat the opponent with one blow. He knew everything about arms, explosives, and other killing devices. He was physically adroit and tough. He had an ordinary look—he was short and thin and had a plain egg-like head with brown hair. Nobody would take him for a dangerous man unless they could see his eyes.

                                                   

"Premium has been paid, and we will take care about the rest of it." This was written on a piece of paper in an envelope without an address that he found in one of the many PO boxes that were in a post office in the east part of London. At the same time, his money at the bank account at Tomas Cook Bank enlarged for $100,000. The money was transferred by a Cayman Islands bank. There was a phone number from Sao Paulo, Brazil, on the paper, and a note that it was a further contact number. The big money made him accept the challenge.

Soon, the plane landed at the Rio de Janeiro Airport.

 

                                

 

 

Chapter 3

 

Crump stayed at the Meridian Hotel, the most luxurious in the city, the way a successful businessman would. He enjoyed the contrasts of Rio de Janeiro for two days. When he sensed he had adjusted to the new environment and Latin American spirit, he began his meeting preparations. First, he checked the phone num­ber owner and he rented a car. He had the habit of making his arrivals as ordinary as possible, so he did not check out of the hotel. Let them think he was a usual tourist, one of the two million in an army of globetrotters cruising through Rio de Janeiro.

His travel by car from Rio to Sao Paolo was long and tiresome. He was to endure the infernal summer heat that turned the car into a moveable oven. But it was just a small challenge to his self control.

Never lose your nerves. Always keep your peace of mind, even in the most challenging situation—the first rule of professional assassins.

He drove a Chevrolet Chevette, a Brazilian version of the European Opel Cadette, a car that was part of the traffic.

Never stand out in your surroundings where you work—the second rule of professional assassins.

That was the way to avoid the chance to be easily remembered should some unplanned accident happen, of course, because of somebody else's fault. Dark hair and dark contacts made him become part of that environment even more.

Although there were cruel laws in the underground that provided secrecy for the criminals, Ernest Crump additionally provided his secrecy. He took care of small details.

Never neglect small details—the third rule of professional assassins.

He dialed the number from a street phone booth. Somebody answered immediately.

"Yes, who's that?" a man's voice asked. Crump kept quiet. The man hung up.

So, somebody else is in the apartment. The owner let a stranger answer the phone, thought Crump. He would check them out before he approaches them.

 

                                                   

Doubt every situation—the fourth rule of professional assassins.

He was always afraid there would be a setup behind some of the calls. That was why he always acted carefully. He worked in Brazil only once before. He was supposed to kill a runaway gangster who had betrayed his friends and disappeared with five million dollars. It was a piece of cake. The victim had common thieves for bodyguards. Not a problem to worry about. He planted a bomb in his car eas­ily and it blew up. It was ten years ago.

Now he was not the same man. It was hard to believe the Brazilian police managed to trace him. Nevertheless, a little precaution was never too much.

The apartment was owned by Genevieve Cohen, French according to the name. He could repeat the call, introduce himself, and arrange an appointment at neutral territory chosen by him, where he would provide an easy escape in case he entered a trap. He thought of it as if it was a critical situation.

Secure your back—the fifth rule of professional assassins.