4Before I arrived here though, first thing this morning, I planted my alibi, or trick to the police and security. This can be found on the ground beneath an open top-floor window of the building opposite. There's nothing like a discarded rifle bullet casing to throw everyone off my scent. It worked for the CIA in Dallas forty years ago, so it should work for me here. Though what I am about to do is not with their blessing.
I have the feeling the CIA may be investigating this crime properly.
I might get caught, and to be honest I am prepared for this eventuality, as long as I am caught afterwards and not before I can carry out my task.
I am standing in Whitehall, the governmental centre of the United Kingdom. I arrived early, and therefore have a good position up against the large black wrought iron gates at the entrance to Downing Street.
Earlier, thousands of people marched down the street behind me in protest at the visit of the President of the United States, here at the Queen's invitation. I didn't watch them pass behind me. I was keen to concentrate on where my target would be standing later, talking to the press. I was not associating directly at this point with the protesters anyway, wearing a Stars and Stripes bandanna round my head. I think that is what helped me get so close so easily. Most people seem to want to protest rather than queue for hours to get an actual view of the man himself. I was also keen to make sure that I was against the gate when my target came into view outside 10 Downing Street to speak to the assembled press.
Obviously, for a task such as mine I have spent a long time preparing. My main problem (aside from ensuring that I could get to my preferred spot on the day and leaving false evidence in the grounds of quite a secure government building when security is on full alert) has been to avoid detection before I can carry out the deed.
It took some considerable effort to come up with a way of dealing a fatal blow to a fairly distant target, surrounded by tight security, at night. And I didn't want any innocent casualties, or any victims of friendly fire. That would make me as bad as him.
Modern technology and my own patience will supply the answer. The gun is a single shot rifle. It is attached to the underside of my arm. When my arm is held out horizontally, in firing position, as it is now, the rifle is on its side, hidden by the large sleeve to my coat. I need to make sure that I am in position to fire very early so that there is no sudden movement to alert any of the many security people around. Therefore I am leaning against the gate with my right arm out straight ahead of me, pointing very close to the general area where I will need to aim. This is where my patience comes in. I will stand like this for a long time.
To see my target at night would normally be difficult, but that problem could easily be solved by an infra red sight on the rifle. However, because my target will be bathed in the bright lights accompanying many television cameras, that is not completely necessary. I do need some kind of sight though, and my solution is to use the night sight, but transmit the image from the eyepiece to specially constructed glasses that allow me to see the image directly in front of my eye. I have practised extensively, and I can hit a football from 100 yards away very regularly. This experience has proved to me that I will be successful with my one shot. It also means that I don't have to be looking directly at my target, so if I am not caught immediately, any CCTV cameras used to try to obtain evidence will see me staring away down Whitehall, not towards the victim. Not until I hear the bang anyway.
The final amendment, a very minor one, is to wear out a hole in the bottom of the outside left pocket of my coat. This means that when it looks like my hand is deep in my pocket shielding itself from the cold, it is just able to reach across to the trigger beneath my right armpit.
The evening arrives and the sky grows darker. I am gradually surrounded by a crowd of those people who want to get a view of the most powerful man in the world. There are now hundreds of them. I had expected the crush that was developing around me. The solution I had previously come up with to this problem of keeping my place and retaining a steady aim, was to invite any children to come forward and stand in front of me. This struck me as a naturally kind thing to offer, and nobody would think twice about accepting. My outstretched arm over their heads leaning against the gate was also seen as my shielding them from any pushing.
Finally the time arrived for the briefing to the press, with both the British Prime Minister and the United States' President emerging from the black-painted door of Number 10. They stood outside the door, both smiling, shaking hands, prolonging the pose for the tirade of flashes, pictures for tomorrow's newspapers. In a few minutes though, these photographs would no longer be destined for the front page.
As the Prime Minister completed his statement he stepped down from the plinth. He turned to invite the President to replace him. I switched on my night sight. This was the one moment that I was most likely to be caught. One of the lenses on my glasses suddenly takes on a greenish tinge. If this is not spotted I should be able to go through with my action.
From this distance I can't hear what the President is saying. There is too much noise around me anyway, and then a chant starts up 'encouraging' him to go home. From the tiny image on the lens in front of my eye I can see that he does not react. He is probably used to it. He speaks for a while, gesticulating with his arms. He smiles constantly. I can see through the insincerity of it all though. This man is hated. He lied. He continues to lie now as I watch him in the flesh for the first time. I will be doing the whole world a service. Just like when Kennedy was removed when he was rushing headlong into bringing Nuclear War to the world. Just like the man in front of me has removed other leaders and regimes. I am not doing anything that he wouldn't do himself. He would probably encourage my action if only it wasn't aimed at him. I can think of two people as targets for whom he would certainly even offer to take my place.
I feel my finger trying to squeeze the trigger. I stop the involuntary action born of hate. I haven't even aimed at my target properly yet.
I turn to look down Whitehall. The image in my eye remains clear. I move my arm slightly so that the image is completely filled with the President's profile. He continues talking, smiling at a joke he has told.
I have weighed up the arguments against this course of action frequently in the build up to this moment. Some are convincing, but my opinion is that the balance of reasoning supports my chosen conclusion. My concern, as I have already stated, is not for myself. I simply want to rid the world of a terrible dictator, a man who has dictated to the world that certain regimes must come and go as he pleases, for spurious reasons, by lying. My concern lies with my country, and the possibility of conflict with America, a friend for many decades. If I am caught, I will be able to argue that I acted alone. Maybe it would be better if I surrender straight away, so that I can explain my action. So that any retaliation can be prevented. Without the current President though, I am sure a more realistic point of view will prevail if I do escape and the assassin is not found. I am certain that a diplomatic and peaceful solution will be found. Whoever is in charge will know that the world is better off without the man standing in front of me, living through the last seconds of his life.
I check again that my aim is true. The President stops talking. My finger squeezes the trigger. There is an extremely loud bang. The President stops living.