• Embed Doc
  • Copy Link
  • Readcast
  • Collections
  • CommentGo Back
Download
 
η ϕ κ χ ϖ ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β νµ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕκ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι οπ α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π ασ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ερ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξχ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δφ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ ρ τ ψ υ ιο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µθ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο πα σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ωε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σδ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρτ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φγ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ 
 
Shiva’s Messenger
Chapter 1 – Operation Shiva
Russell Twyce
 
 ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ ηϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ιο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µθ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο πα σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ωε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζξ χ ϖ β ν µ ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β νµ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕκ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι οπ α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π ασ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ερ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξχ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δφ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖβ ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ 
Chapter 1 - Operation Shiva
Excerpt from Shiva’s Messenger http://www.shivasmessenger.comClick to R ead More @ RussellTwyce.Com/Content
From an elevated vantage point behind a slatted wooden fence, Jeff Thomas looked over the moderate-sized throng assembled to watch the motorcade pass. A few hands held small flags poised. Casual facesturned his way occasionally but none obtrusively watched him. Jeff scanned above to an unseasonable bright day for conducting a darkly cloaked operation
.
The sun filtering through the leafy canopy of a large bole tree cast mottling shadows with only his silhouette observable from the plaza below.He cocked a cheek over his left shoulder. Further back from the concrete and stucco pergolas, no onewas close. As a golfer’s on a tee-off swing, this pro’s eyes followed through to a look at his right rear angle. Cars filled the parking lot behind but the drivers and the passengers were all down below the grassyknoll on Elm Street, as a gallery to watch the procession. All here was quiet and still. Was it that timeitself had hesitated, to allow a generation to gather an awareness, of where they were at this juncture?The crowd’s attention was fixed away when he returned his gaze. They were watching where the president’s appearance was anticipated at any moment. A check of the sixth floor window of the brick Schoolbook Depository building showed it was open. That confirmed his partner was in position and ready.Jeff’s blue eyes checked his watch in a habitual manner without even noting the time. It was of no matter.The zero hour would strike soon and the world would soon remember, precisely when it had been.Jeff took several relaxed breaths and a faint smell of creosote reminded him that railway tracks werenearby. He affixed attention onto a single point of null space slightly ahead of his eyes. The man found his
 zone
, as he called it and he entered it with his skin tingling as if freshly scrubbed. Whenever he achievedthis state, Jeff felt the most alive. His perception became so much greater than his normal state of being.His vision sharpened and time seemed to slow—or perhaps it was simply his brain was processing faster.This was the mode where he always performed his very best work.Intently, he shifted his focus up Main Street as the presidential motorcade slowed at the corner. Like a parade of black ants moving up the shaft and onto the base of an arrowhead, the motorcycles and escortcars turned right into Dealey Plaza. Jeff fixated on the target vehicle and followed its acceleration. Hiseyes didn’t have to glance up. A heightened perception allowed the peripheral vision to detect a flutter inthe window of his teammate bringing a carbine into position.
 It’s a perfect shot for Oswald now—but don’t let him shoot yet.
Jeff could hit from here if he must, but waiting was better.The president’s open-topped limousine was now pointed at the Depository building. If Jeff hadn’t beenordered to use Oswald as a co-conspirator, he would’ve been in that sixth floor window. The one shotwould have already been taken and the job finished. Two shooters weren’t required for this operation.That wasn’t his call.As the motorcade reached the junction of Houston and Elm, it slowed again to bank the left turn. Thisone-block detour from the obvious route was the final proof to Jeff that ‘Operation Shiva’ had not only thetacit but full approval from the highest levels of the United States government. The condemned car turnedfor the final time in this president’s life. It curved towards the arrow’s tip.Quickly and smoothly, movements drilled to muscle memory, Jeff pulled his Mannlicher-Carcanofirearm from its cradle under his jacket. The gunman knew the reasons or at least he believed he did
. I couldn’t be better prepared for this action.
Pulling the rifle butt into his shoulder, he canted his head over 
 
ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β νµ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕκ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι οπ α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ ρτ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φγ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ ηϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ιο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µθ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο πα σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ωε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σδ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρτ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φγ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β ν µ θ ω ε ρ τ ψ υ ι ο π α σ δ φ γ η ϕ κ λ ζ ξ χ ϖ β
the weapon to bring his eye directly behind the gun sight. His index knuckle tensed on the trigger. He wasaware even of the knurl ridges, like a course fingerprint in the metal. With a steady eye and finely tunedhand coordination, Jeff tracked a bead on President Kennedy’s forehead.Oswald opened fire from the Depository but with less than half of the finesse of an amusement park duck-shoot hawker. Over the gun sight, Jeff could see a flurry of reactions in the car but he couldn’tdetermine if Lee’s barrage were hits
. It appears he’s not struck his target: as I could’ve expected.
Jeff required only his one meticulous kill shot. He squeezed the trigger with strait-blade razor professionalismthat was stropped on other lives.So finely attuned to that instant, he nearly saw the blunt tail of the bullet streaking away. JohnFitzgerald Kennedy’s head recoiled sharply from the impact of a bullet on a skull. In the president’s lastgleaming his crown was as a crimson corona of blood mist. Jeff felt washed pristine clean by a wave of freedom—he had never felt so completely satisfied.
The sound of my one report was likely buried in an echo of all of Oswald’s
. The assassin didn’tchamber another round. The job was finished and that action would only eject the spent cartridge he wouldthen have to retrieve. Instead, he slipped the carbine back under his coat and felt the euphoria of closure.As the man strode purposefully away, his gait betrayed no more guilt than to an expired parking meter. Heretraced almost the exact steps he had taken on the way to his firing position. The gunman’s execution andattention to detail had once again been calligraphy perfect.As he slipped behind the wheel of his car, Jeff placed the carbine into his lap with the muzzle pointingtowards the rubber mat of the passenger’s seat floor. He ejected the spent brass, then inserted the singleround he carried loose in his pocket.
 Never be caught with an empty weapon.
That maxim was one hecould never forget. The assassin set the gun down on the seat next to him and concealed it with his jacket.“Now that’s a souvenir!” He stuffed the spent brass cartridge into his shirt pocket. Normally he wouldfind a place to tuck it where it would never be found.
This time I’ll keep it.
The shining brass was a coin to pay all debts to both his old country and his new one.Jeff slipped the shifter into gear and drove away using the route he had planned well in advance.Stopping only once, he deposited the incriminating weapon in the pre-arranged dumpster. Another member of the non-requested support team would be responsible for the final disposal. It was yet another complication in the plan that was neither necessary nor of his choice. The assassin was fully capable of ditching his own evidence.
Simplicity in a strategy is a thing of ultimate desirability
. His plot had been exquisitely straightforward.One shooter and one shot. That’s the way it should have been. The inclusion of Oswald and these other impediments to his effortless stratagem had been requirements directly from the
clients
. Jeff never likedany of them.Oswald loved the Depository sniper’s nest and wanted to use it even though his shot from there would be at a difficult angle. He bragged about his targeting skills even though the positioning for a right-handedmarksman was the worst possible. The staccato of ineffectual shots Lee had fired only showed the folly of his position. The fact that Oswald had even been able to strike in the vicinity of the president was proof of his skill. No matter, Lee Harvey Oswald was the redundant understudy. Jeff Thomas was the headliner. He haddelivered his performance as a virtuoso. His lanyard tug made the curtain fall on the American President.What critic could ever mock the show?As Jeff drove on, he pondered again whether the next stage of the plan was essential or wise. Theobjective was terminated and it was sure to be a momentous event in the country. Should they not justquietly disappear? What was the point of meeting up with Oswald? Why not at some later date and as far as possible from the turmoil of this historic event? Linking up on this day, in this city was more the client’s
of 00

Leave a Comment

You must be to leave a comment.
Submit
Characters: ...
You must be to leave a comment.
Submit
Characters: ...