As part of Carr Hill’s ‘We are Reading' challenge we have created a number of 'student author’ posts. The work of our student authors will regularly be shared on the website, in editions of our school magazine and other communication channels. In the next of our student author contributions Year 10 Benjamin shares the next part of his novel The Assassin's Last Victim Part 11. Thank you, Benjamin.
At the huge mahogany table, sitting in the chairs, is the head of mafia and his head of security, weapons, vehicles and explosives. The head of mafia was Liborio Bellomo. His eyes; a well of jet-black ink, held a gaze more fearsome than a tiger. A thin paper cigarette hung from his bottom lip, a small trail of smoke escaping from the corner of his mouth danced its way to the ceiling above us. In one hand a gun lay loosely, his finger gently pressed against the trigger sending a bullet a millimetre away from my face and onto the wall behind me with a bang that echoed throughout the room.
His eyebrow raised in amusement at my reaction; nothing, not a flinch, not a single damn thing. Bellomo asked angrily, “WHY are you here?” He didn’t reply instead pulled out the wanted poster and placed it angrily on the mahogany wooden table. Bellomo pulled out a 1TB hard drive and a Harrington & Richardson Six shooter revolver and placed them slowly, so the gun didn’t go off, on the mahogany wooden table and said, “Here is your evidence …. but you can only have it if we play a little game of Russian Roulette, are you in?” He picked up the Harrington & Richardson Revolver and placed it at his head.
He asked quietly, “How do you play Russian Roulette, Bellomo?” Bellomo didn’t reply instead pointed towards an olden leather, torn up rules book. He picked up the olden leather rules book and skim read the book quickly, because he could be in danger from the mafia gang with him. Sneakily, he looked down the revolver’s cylinder and saw the cylinder was full of 24 carat silver bullets dipped in venomous poison. He thought, “Why was Bellomo trying to kill me?” He pretended to start playing Russian Roulette, instead slowly pointed the Harrington & Richardson Revolver over towards Bellomo and shot....
The bullet zoomed across the dining room and hit Liborio Bellomo in the frontal bone of his skull. Blood spattered out across the dining room, hitting Bellomo’s men and the expensive painting of Salvator Muni worth $450.3 million dollars, got a substantial lump of Bellomo’s blood splattered in an unusual pattern over the painting. Boom! The body dropped substantial, instantaneously quick to the mahogany wooden floor.
Riley turned away as his stomach heaved. Without eyelids the milky blue eyes stared into the frozen sky while the lip-less mouth hung open. He left the building quickly, so no-one noticed it was him and he saw the watchman slumped against the mossy pillar; it was cold but less so than the iron gate. His eyes followed the puffs of his breath as they rose and dissipated into the night sky. Many years ago, on that very spot, he had been hired by the gentleman who lived in the manor and not once had he laid eyes on him since. Cars with blackened windows approached with drivers he knew, no new guys unless he received a full file on them. So, when the car approached with a new face in the windshield his heart rate soared to a sickening rhythm and bile washed up his nicotine layered throat. This is what he collected the generous cheques for. Years of boredom possibly leading to a sticky end. He raised his AK47 and stood central to the gate, barrel raised at him and it was loaded with the same poisonous bullets.
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