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    Ambassador Hit Team
    Ambassador Hit Team
    Ambassador Hit Team
    Ebook99 pages1 hour

    Ambassador Hit Team

    By William Plante

    ()

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    About this ebook

    The British Colonel visited a charming couple in their London apartment, said to the woman, “I understand you are fluent in the Slavic languages,” and to the man, “You are handy with a silencer. “How would you two like living in Paris?”
    “We would love it. Do you have an assignment for us?”
    “Yes, as the British Ambassadors Agents in Paris, you two will do his dirty work, it is the best description I can give you. You would also be his liaison in contacting foreign embassies, Turkey, in particular.”
    “Once a month you will make a trip on the Orient Express from Paris to Istanbul, spend a week and return with rolls of film.”
    The two were perfect for couriers on the Orient Express, a train to and from Istanbul Turkey. It traveled through Vienna, Romania, and other countries, the ones with chain-saw tongues.
    Now, doesn't that sound dandy, except when you learn, aboard the train the other side has an assassin who annihilates his enemies with an icepick shoved into an ear. Makes one shiver.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWilliam Plante
    Release dateNov 18, 2021
    ISBN9781005692018
    Ambassador Hit Team
    Author

    William Plante

    I write to entertain, laugh at, intrigue and gasp. No shortage of subjects. I lugged my cameras and tripod over oceans through countries; photographed hippos and hips.Bunked down in the ‘talked’ about hotels, drank in 'the water holes'. Met a spectrum of characters; sat in Hemingway’s Ritz chair, drink scotch now.I'm writing days and nights now; tales of suspense and spice. Voila.Read less

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      Book preview

      Ambassador Hit Team - William Plante

      AMBASSADOR HIT TEAM

      INTRIGUE

      WD PLANTE

      Copyright © 2020, WD PLANTE

      all rights reserved.

      AMBASSADOR HIT TEAM

      She speaks Slavic languages.

      He speaks with a silencer.

      Both deal with snoops and spies.

      He - James Connery lived with his parents and brother in the Scottish shipbuilding town of Clydesdale. That is until bombs rained down. The German Luftwaffe bombarded the city for the entire month of March in 1941, killing almost 6,000 citizens. Only a few houses out of approximately 11,000 were undamaged and only the 16-year-old boy survived in his family.

      The government sent the boy out of harm's way, almost as far north as they could, the city of Stornoway on the island of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides. Attending an army based high school, included military and basic training twelve months a year, he graduated in the month he turned 17. Husky, easy to fudge his age, was transferred to the regular army and shipped overseas where he would later receive a field commission.

      The Luftwaffe came close to killing him, now the Wehrmacht also attempted to kill Lieutenant James Connery with their ‘Schmeisser’ machine guns, ‘Potato Masher Grenades’, a one-man shoulder fired ‘Panzerfaust’, Pot-Mines, a 75mm Panzerabwehrwerfer anti-tank rifle and their fearsome trump card, the 88mm FLAK high velocity gun. Nothing put him under, two months before the Germans surrendered, they tried once more with a Lugar pistol.

      A Colonel said to Lieutenant Connery, K Company on our left flank, needs an experienced officer to launch their attack at dawn. There is a road through the forest connecting us. I’ll have a jeep drive you.

      Yes sir. Who owns the woods, Colonel?

      I think we do.

      Not so. Two German soldiers did. They toppled a tree across the rutted road and waited. The jeep driver, a private, seeing the obstruction slammed on the brakes. Mauser designed Karabiner 98K rifles were aimed at the two men in the vehicle. They understood the guttural command, ‘Out, raise your hands.’

      The two British soldiers stood up against the jeep, one German covered their captives while the other relieved the Lieutenant of his colt 45, missing an odd weapon strapped to his leg, a Dark Knight Celtic Dirk. He searched the Private, a German Lugar found.

      James froze. He knew what was going to happen, having instructed his troops to never bear that pistol in their possession. Its knurled knobs racked back, the weapon loaded, was fired point blank into the Private’s forehead. The Scotsman did not even know the boy’s name.

      The assailant rummaged through the jeep while his partner covered the officer. Then the sound of jubilation, a sword found. The soldier with the rifle turned to look. A dagger plunged into his heart. The man with the Lugar turned, the Lieutenant, on him in a second, slamming him to the ground. The pistol went off again. James felt a searing pain in his ribs. He began to go numb. With all his strength, against kicking and clawing, he slowly forced the dirk deep into the murderer’s throat.

      One arm could not pull the dead driver into the jeep. He used it to turn the vehicle around and head back to camp, barely able to order a squad to retrieve the body. The last memory he had, being loaded into an ambulance.

      She - Kyla Kulinka, her parents were born in Transylvania where people spoke the Slavic language. A war looming, they migrated as far North as possible, Stornoway, Scotland. He a mechanic she a nurse, Kyla was born. Her parents took immense pride in speaking six of the Slavic languages. Their daughter would also. She too would become a nurse. They worked in an army hospital.

      Lt. Connery stirred, he sensed the pungent smell of an anesthetic, then the pleasant aroma of perfume. With eyes closed he asked, Kyla, is that you?

      Yes, my name is Kyla, how do you know?

      Eyes still closed, It’s the same perfume you wore on your graduation day from high school.

      Yes, it is. That was over two years ago. You were there?

      I escorted you up the aisle, sat next to you during the ceremony and receiving our diplomas.

      Now I remember. You wore your formal kilts. You were a strapping young man, no longer a boy. Your name is James.

      The soldier smiled. Yes, and when you found out my brother and family had been killed in a bombing raid you were kind enough to invite me to sit at a table with your mother, father and younger brother.

      Yes, I remember the wonderful conversation we had.

      Eyes still closed he asked, Are my belongings nearby?

      They are right here, in a box.

      Would you mind looking through it for a small photograph; I don’t want to lose it.

      Here it is. Why it’s my graduation picture.

      Students were exchanging photos that day. I asked you for yours.

      And it is here with all your army equipment?

      When I went to war, I wanted to have someone lovely to remember. I looked at it almost every day.

      She took his hand, James, why don’t you open your eyes?

      I’m afraid I’m dreaming.

      You’re not.

      He opened them, a nurse by his side, holding his hand, it was Kyla.

      Kyla and James held hands until the day she died, and beyond.

      A plane with a nurse and other staff had flown into Germany to evacuate the wounded from a hospital unit. It returned with its patients and landed in Edinburgh, James in a bed for six weeks. A male Doctor mended him. A nurse, Kyla, healed him, the power of a woman’s voice and touch.

      The nurse insisted the soldier return home with her to recuperate in Stornoway. She would not leave him. Her parents invited the man to spend the summer in their home by the sea. There, they married. The girl’s brother, best man.

      James, now a professional soldier, promoted to Captain, considered fortunate to be alive and stationed in a Scottish regiment with headquarters in Edinburgh. A close combat encounter during the war almost killed him, and in his occupation it would most likely occur again. No longer would he roll around on the ground, hoping to overcome his opponent. He trained extensively, honing his skills to engage the enemy, end the fight suddenly.

      The man who wore a plaid skirt could knock out his opponent in an instant with one hammer blow of the fist; a self-defense technique in which one did not retreat. You aggressively stepped into the assailant, with elbow to your side, striking him full force on the side of the jaw with the side of your fist, like a hammer, far more effective than a punch with knuckles.

      The soldier became proficient in delivering an assortment of strikes; straight punches (jab and cross), hooks, upper cuts, body/liver shots and palm heel strikes to a variety of targets. In addition to six different elbow strikes there were a variety of kicks, including groin kicks, round kicks, vertical front kicks, sidekicks, and back kicks.

      Life in the military was not all kicks and blows. James and his wife entered its vibrant society, dinners, bag pipes and dancing. Kyla possessed all the social graces, the officer handsome in his kilt. The two were included on every invitation.

      The Regimental Commander visited the charming couple in their apartment, said to the

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