As the door pulled
shut, two rifle shots rang out. The 8x57 bullets thudded
into the small man’s body within millimetres of each other over Whittle’s
heart. Sowerbutt watched from the bay window as the world changed gear into
slow motion. Whittle toppled over on the garden path, swallowing an obscenity
as he fell. Missionary leapt out of the car, shouting as he raced towards the
wing commander. Sowerbutt noticed the small container of ketchup, concealed in
front of Missionary’s body as he ran, invisible to any observer.
No comments:
Post a Comment