Friday, August 25, 2017

Goupil: Memiors Of An Assassin


Nothing in this world can match the certainty of an assassin's bullet. The focus and clear-eyed clarity of the singular moment of a bullet's release is in tune with the universe like no other time. The pulling of the trigger is like reaching orgasm, a payoff for which to yearn. Knowing that the sun and everything under it is helpless before you, that the judgment of heaven and earth must accede to your wishes gives a feeling of calmness and serenity where one wishes to reside forever.

To think of the Oswald shot (as some say it happened) is to think of a thousand to one chance. I have been in Dallas and seen the lay of the land myself. It was a pilgrimage for me, to get inside another assassin's head, to relive the most devastating rifle shot in history. I found it strange he didn't take the simple shot on the flat ground due east of the library. The chances of success there would be many times that of a downhill shot curving away. It was a miracle strike. But truth is that shows the power of clarity and what it can achieve, as if guided by the hand of God.

Oftentimes in my solitary existence I replay past executions, each one unique in its nature. Depending on my mood I relive the aspects that brought me the most joy; sometimes a clever escape, sometimes the reaction of the shocked bystanders, but mostly just relishing the few quiets moments before the shot, making preparations and being in the moment. I sit gloriously in my perch as a being without want or need. It is, however, all downhill from there.

Since childhood I've always lived in my head. I laughed at those with faith in the world, forever pursuing the end of the rainbow, ultimately drowning in frustrated politic. My scorn was deep and absolute. To live in futility is to be dead. One can hear the endless arguments everywhere, lives arguing to be meaningful when at the end of the day nothing real has been said. To feel alive one must be outside of that cacophony of muddled minds littering the world. I saw everyone - including heads of state - as trapped. I stood alone.

It took me a lifetime to realize my own cage.

Money was first on my list. It is the greatest tool of oppression ever invented and despite the deep suffering it brings to the overwhelming majority of the world I can always depend on my fellow man to hold it in higher regard than human life, to ridiculously serve it as a purpose "greater than he is" as every person must do realized or not. It is a sick, pathetic and barbaric game stemming from twisted minds who've given up. But it is a game that must be played.

I've heard it said my money is blood money when, in fact, all money is blood money. All the funny pieces of paper around the world are printed in blood. It's funny when I hear a countryman say another country's currency "doesn't look real." I want to lean over and say, "That's because none of it is!" (I did actually do this once but the quizzical look I got in response cured me for life.) Your valued paper kills with hunger, homelessness, and hopelessness. I use a bullet. Just a matter of time before anyone's lies catch up to them.

I was a natural at my craft, partly from DNA and partly because of a strong drive to succeed. Most important lesson I learned in this world is that it's not the most moral conviction that succeeds, but the one with the greatest conviction (see Bolsheviks). That was my edge as an assassin. It was easy to see the doubt, the hesitation, that sense of certainty I had that others were missing. The more cunning of my employers distrusted me for this knowing I'd do my own thinking and thus could not be controlled in the usual manner. But I made it clear I was for hire and as long as they asked for nothing more than the job at hand both parties would be satisfied.

Bodyguards are like dogs. And no matter how dedicated or ferocious that bodyguard is, no dog has an inner drive. They are as predictable as the coming of the seasons. Almost any obstacle can be overcome. It's all a manner of determination and planning. Once I was able to exhibit that I was able to command the kind of money that I needed. That allowed for even more time and planning which led to even more money. It was a beautiful cycle and that time on the way up was the favorite time of my life, walking through airports on a different plane.

The trick to any game is knowing when to get out. As you will see, I failed in that. A hit too far, shall we say. Like others more famous than me, I got tangled in a Russian web. I managed to escape with my life but my career was done as I went on the run. In the course of my life my human needs were denied (which the Russians tried so expertly to prey upon) and I've spent the last several years trying to catch up on a life unlived. It's not the people I killed that I regret. It's the relationships I killed that I regret. I ran away to keep my assassin's life alive. I saw love as my enemy.

Now I look for love but none is to be found. I have nothing left to do but come clean as an alone and friendless soul. You may think as you wish of me, I have no problem. I would like to think the truth has value regardless of circumstance. Many fools believe in a fictional "morality of the masses". They must believe that in order to believe there is a future. I never once thought in my life I could speak the truth and not be killed. Ironically, with my career choice I made that a reality. But the way I look at it now, if the truth gets me killed then let my blood be on the hands of God.

"Goupil: An Assassin's Memoir" as told to Harry Homeless
by the international French gunman aliased as Goupil

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