Chapter 2: Patty

James Griffin parked the car about a mile from the lodge. He got out and took the big black plastic box from the boot. After making sure that nobody had seen him, he set off for the hill he had chosen a couple of days ago. It was situated about two hundred meters from the lodge. When he got there, he hid behind a rock and started assembling the sniper rifle. A minute later, he was ready.

The report was muffled by the silencer so only James heard it. The bullet hit the satellite dish which was mounted on the roof. It shook and tilted to one side. He rested the rifle on the rock and waited, looking at the lodge.

Half an hour later, the woman came out of the lodge. James recognized her immediately. She was Patty Wilkins, 32 years old journalist. She had a childish appearance, which was enhanced by her petit figure. Her long black hair was tied in a ponytail that was swaying behind her as she walked.

James took the rifle, looked through the lens and prepared for the shot. The woman stopped, looking up at the roof. For a moment she hesitated, and then went around the corner. A minute later, she returned, carrying an old wooden ladder. She rested it on the side of the lodge, made sure that it was steady, and started climbing up.

Patty was about to step on the roof when James fired. Wooden splinters burst and scattered in all directions as the bullet hit the base of the ladder. The ladder started to fall. Losing her footing, she fell backwards, letting out a yelp of surprise.

Patty landed on her posterior with a loud thud that James heard clearly. He waited to see what was going to happen next. He wanted to be sure that everything was properly done. The client's requirement was simple. It was of great importance that Patty Wilkins should miss the flight tomorrow. James didn't know anything else. He just had to stop her somehow.

Patty managed to turn on her side, then pulled herself up on her knees. Supporting herself on the wooden siding of the lodge, she slowly stood up. James's hopes that she has suffered a broken leg evaporated. She seemed to be dizzy and shocked, but not seriously injured. James cursed. Shooting her was not an option. It was against his personal rules. He was thinking what to do next, when she swayed and collapsed. A minute late, she stopped making any attempts to stand up.

James took his rifle and headed to the car. Then, he heard her crying for help. He knew that nobody would hear her. The lodge was isolated and not visible from any other dwelling or road. He got to the car and placed the rifle in the trunk, then quickly retraced his steps.

Patty was making an awkward attempt to drag herself to her car. Her legs were not contributing much to the task. They seemed to be almost lifeless. The heels of her boots were ploughing the wet grass. Her face was pale, contorted with effort and pain.

"Oh my God! What has happened to you!" James exclaimed.

Her eyes popped wide open as she saw him, and then a weak smile twitched her lips.

"I fell off the ladder. What a miracle that you heard me! "she moaned.

"I hope there is nothing broken," he said and kneeled beside her.

"I am not sure, but my bottom hurts terribly. I tried to get to the car but ... Please, help me."

"Maybe you should not be moved."

"Oh, come on. There is nothing serious, just a bit painful."

"Can you move your toes?"

"Yes," she said and nodded."

James slipped his hands under her armpits and lifted her up. She tried to steady herself on her wobbly legs, when a sudden spasm racked her hips. She gasped, realizing that her legs refused to support her.

"I am holding you," James said and wrapped his arms around her back.

Her full breasts pressed against his chest. He could feel the tenderness of her body and her vulnerability. And he liked helping her.

"I'm holding you," he repeated.