He had won.
He had been forced to execute his sole surviving guard in order to keep the plan - as well as his involvment - in place, but he had done it. They would finally be rid of the Americans and the other democratic scum.
He watched as the Al-Qaeda agent left the room, followed by two heavily armed guards, smiling to himself. He moved to the small bar in the hotel room, and poured himself a drink - if there was one thing the Americans were good for, it was their alcohol. He raised the glass to his lips, and somone knocked on the door.
He cursed under his breath at being disturbed. Most likely the pestilential cleaning staff. He opened the door, and found himself with a silencing barrel in his face, staring into the cold brown eyes of an assassin.
"Hello Minister," said Webbe warmly. He saw the man cast a terrified glance behind him, and his eyes filled with terror - the three men he had just seen leave lay dead on the floor, two of them shot in the chest, the other in the forehead.
Webbe stepped into the room, forcing the other man back at gunpoint. He closed the door behind him, securing the lock as he did so. "You've led me on quiet the chase, Minister" he said, smiling in a disturbingly friendly manner. "But the game is over now."
"P...please, don't... d-don't kill me..." stammered the traitor, falling to his knees.
"Now why not?" asked Webbe, sounding disappointed. "I've been so looking forward to it."
"I...I h-have information! I c-can-"
Webbe rolled his eyes and squeezed the trigger twice. Both bullets hit the man in the head, and he fell backwards, blood dribbling from both wounds.
Webbe placed the gun in the holster in his jacket, and turned from the room, his mission finally complete.
Last edited by The Doctor; 09-03-2006 at 05:56 PM.