One week later
Reaper had spent the previous week preparing his plan for the mission and trying to find out a little more about the client. The revelation that the client knew Reaper’s background had really knocked him and he needed to know who he was.
Following the meeting at the Waldorf, Reaper had noted down the registration of the Maybach and checked the owner’s details. The owner was John Doe, residing at Greyer Top Road, New York. Reaper could find no such road listed anywhere in New York State nor in the US and the name John Doe was the name given to any male in the US of unknown identity. It was not until later that night that Reaper realised his client was not to be fooled with. The address, Greyer Top Road, was an anagram of GOOD TRY REAPER. The client had registered a $350,000 car in a false name and address for just one meeting.
He had received a phone call the following morning on his new mobile. It had been the client who had advised him against digging any further, Reaper did not need to know who he was and in fact would live significantly longer if he didn’t. The phone as ever had just gone dead, the client had hung up, no goodbyes, no pleasantries.
Reaper was stunned, all he had done so far was check a car registration. Whoever the client was, he knew that somebody had done a search on the registration.
Reaper had also been shocked at the level of detail in the mission brief and the inclusion of highly classified documents, some were even stamped top secret. Reaper was no closer to knowing who his client was but a picture of a very well connected, powerful and manipulative figure was slowly coming into focus. Reaper was certain of one thing. If he failed, he was dead. The mission had a lot riding on it, it was now a life or death exercise.
Reaper had travelled to Scotland to see the Estate for himself. His pack had contained press clippings of the botched kidnapping as well as detailed schematics of the security system. The more he looked into it, the more he could not understand why Conor and his idiots had done what they had done. The place was impregnable, even with a couple of M1 tanks, Reaper would fail to get to the Kennedys.
He had rented a small secluded cottage twenty miles from the Estate and planned to base his operation from there. He had travelled back to the cottage that night and was still struggling to see how he was going to pull it off. He had a number of set criteria for a successful mission. It was not going to be easy.
It was three in the morning when the plan came to him in bed. His subconscious mind had looked beyond the small time operation he had been considering. He leapt up and was soon writing out the plan and how it could work. He had it! It was perfect and huge! Nothing like it had ever been done before. It would cost millions and he needed lots of men but he had the money and the time to put it in place. He checked his watch, it was 4.00 a.m. He had phone calls to make and it was daylight across the other side of the world.