Listen Inside - Daily book previews from Readers in the Know by Simon Denman

Synopsis

When an unstoppable warlord meets an unyielding rebel, their link becomes a new force of nature.

Taryn's dream of forging an alliance with a powerful alien race has become a nightmare. She is linked to a ruthless warlord, an alien killing machine who could destroy humanity on a whim.

Taryn will go down fighting before she surrenders to the monster invading her mind.

But in her struggle to regain control, she finds her tormentor has irreversibly changed her, and she has in turn changed him. The link is turning her into a weapon, drawing strength from the world-slayer who had no regard for another's life—until now.

As death and destruction erupt around them, they carve their way out of their old lives with a single common purpose: unite their forces and change the future.

Excerpt

The elevator slows and stops. It opens onto a broad, dim corridor with sparkling walls arched outward like the curvature of a tunnel. The alien nudges me out, and the shift in gravity shunts me into the air. I flail, but manage to land on my feet, my stomach in my throat.

Half a g, at most. I bound across the elastic floor, an awkward smile creeping up my face as my mask relaxes. Soft blue light renders the glittering walls and floor into an uncannily good impression of outer space.

The alien walks quietly beside me. I can't read its facial expression, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't enjoy the change of environment. It's tenser than before, its movements brisker.

Curves and bends in the spacious corridor pass without comment, until the alien brings one hand down on my shoulder and halts us both.

"Prepare," it rumbles, and turns me to face the wall on our right.

A new doorway opens, and I'm pushed into a round room, maybe five meters wide. There's a single white chair at the center, reminiscent of a gamer's hub. But I doubt he brought me here to play VR games.

"Prepare for what?"

The alien grunts, picks me up as if I weigh nothing, and plants me into the chair.

"Hey, wait a minute, this—"

"Prepare."

It presses a heavy hand against me, jabbing the barbs of my mandible pendant into my chest. I clench my jaw as the Dorylinae chitin punctures my skin. The alien rakes its claws along the side of the chair, and I'm immobilized. All I can do is stare into the glowing eyes of my alien captor.

Then it rips my mask off.

The air reeks of ethanol and molten plastic. My eyes and throat start to burn. Every muscle screams to fight, to run. But I can't move. Panic snakes through me, stirring up old nightmares.

I was twelve when the TMC bombed the Dorylinae hives and killed everyone I knew. They weeded out survivors by their informative value, like data chips. I got passed along repeatedly until I landed on a command carrier, where I was recognized as the daughter of xenologist and traitor Gregory Harber, and his equally traitorous wife, Mira. I was suddenly interesting to the Ticks, and with that interest came a long procession of interrogations, brain probes, and drug-sustained virtual torture. The Ticks fucked with my mind so much it took me years—after I escaped and hitched

Synopsis

After losing his sight in a terrible accident, only to learn that the woman he was planning to marry did not love him enough to accept him, Damien Falconer was devastated. Struggling to cope with his disability, he isolated himself from society, allowing no one to get close to him, but his personal assistant, Jake. Upon learning Jake was soon to leave his employ and return to Scotland, Damien was forced to advertise for his replacement.

Among the applicants who answered his ad was Lisa Andrews, a registered nurse from Connecticut. But Damien was adamant that he would not be replacing Jake with a woman. His argument was, he did not feel comfortable with a woman doing the things that Jake did for him, but one whiff of Lisa’s unique scent and Damien found himself fighting a blistering physical attraction the likes of which he’d never known before. Should he hire her or should he ignore what his “other” senses were screaming at him, about this woman. Damien rustled with the question for several days, but in the end, he caved. And so began a hunger for a woman he couldn’t see...could only recognize by her unique scent...yet wanted like he’d never wanted anything before.

Excerpt

Ms. Andrews walked into the room, and Damien felt the air leave his lungs. He could not see her, but he sensed Jake’s reaction too. He was not certain if he was mirroring Jake’s reaction to the candidate or whether his overactive imagination was playing a trick on him. Whatever the reason, he had a physical reaction to whomever it was that walked into his library. She was polite and calm, and he sensed she had a smile on her face because Jake had an answering smile in his voice when he greeted her. Poor Damien, he couldn’t see a thing, but boy, was he aware of her. He could smell the fragrance she was wearing, and it was doing strange things to his body. There was a hint of jasmine, mixed with a bit of musk, but the overwhelming scent was of violet. He recognized the scent because of the perfusion of violet plants that grew in the garden surrounding his house. It was his favorite flower. He was never tired of sitting on the porch just inhaling its heady fragrance. On Ms. Andrews, the fragrance was positively intoxicating. The mixture of violet with her unique scent was overpowering. Damien was almost in pain from the strength of his physical reaction to her. He was uncomfortable in his seat and kept fidgeting to get a more comfortable position. He did not want either Jake or the young woman to notice his discomfort. He desperately wanted to see the woman who was in his library, but he had to be content with listening to her responses to Jake’s questions. She sounded a bit flustered because she would begin each response with a slight nervous laugh, and Jake would respond in kind. This exchange between the two infuriated Damien, who wanted to participate in the conversation. He interrupted one of Jake’s questions to her with one of his own. “Tell me, Ms. Andrews, how long have you been out of school?” He knew the answer because Jake had briefed him on all the candidates ahead of time, but he wanted to ask her a different question to throw her off. She responded with the same little laugh. “About eight years this month, and I can assure you, I have the experience needed to be your personal assistant.” “We’ll see,” was all he could think of by way of a response. He tried to tune out the sound of her voice and concentrate on Jake’s questions, but that proved to be very difficult because he found himself trying to interpret every nuance in her voice as if his very life depended on his understanding her. He became annoyed with himself and signaled for Jake to end the interview. This time he did not move his head, either once or twice. It was left to Jake to make the decision whether or not to have Ms. Andre

Synopsis

“This novel is a book in which I was able to express a new divine awareness.  I realized I had experienced a lot in life that had left me strewn and unsettled; the book brought about the resurgence of a strong feeling of cohesion.  In this book I have tried to present some of the elementary principles of human nature that can be outside of perceiving, but not outside of holding dear, I call it “Ugly People.”  For example, the violence of feelings, the slave of passion and the dark tyranny of despair.  My life might not have been full of ease and luxury; but I preferred to glorify my existence, as I lived it, enticed by the wealth of experiences placed in my path.  Watching the world around me, I became interested in Fate.  Stories, of the sudden deaths of the rich and famous awakened even more trains of thought on Destiny.  We strive to travel, what we think are the right paths in life, but, does destiny have to have the final say?  Is  fate everywhere we are, involved in everything we do and not only just the end?  What do you think?  On, that same note, I would answer, “Yes, it does!” And so this book was born.  I could feel my heart glow with excitement and enthusiasm as I wrote this book.  I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.”   

Excerpt

I remember the day we visited Dane's older brother in the hospital. He had his appendix removed. As we walked into his room we had to pass bed one and there lie a man bandaged for burns. I staggered backwards from the sight. All I could really see were his eyes and so much pain in them. Dane and I learned that his wife boiled a huge pot of grits, fed up with his physical abuse, waited until he was asleep. She carefully removed the covers he was sleeping under and threw that pot of steaming hot, sticky grits on him. It was a horrific sight to see! He lay there silent as a tomb, obviously suffering. The image stuck in my head.

A week later, Dane staggered around the house, naked, trying to find the bathroom. Frustrated, trying to avoid cleaning up more piss, I decided to get up and guide him to the toilet. To my horror, he had walked into the baby's room. He bumped into the crib and stood there peeing all over our son. Rage crawled up my spine! It was as if I'd blacked out and became someone else! I don't even remember jumping him from behind. You'd better believe I did. We fell back onto the floor. We wrestled up off the floor and all the way through the house. One of my house shoes knocked loose. He grabbed my arms painfully I squirmed loose.

"Stop it, Dani" He kept yelling.

I wanted to hurt him! We battled, until we were bumping up against the front door. My robe had fallen off and I was naked. He tried to open the front door and push me outside. He had done that before, leaving me shivering and pleading to get back in. However, this time he couldn't manage. I had the strength of Wonder Woman. We fell to the floor, again. We were deep into a violent War Dance. HE HAD PEED ON MY BABY! I was in a witch-hunt hysteria! He was going to burn one way or another! I managed to get to my feet. I bent over his body, close to his face and roared and slapped him with a strength that rose up from my toes to the tips of the fingers on that hand. His head wobbled,

"Do you remember, the grits? DO YOU! You sleep soundly at night!"

I let out a demonic roar!

His eyes were big as saucers. He couldn't believe his ears. He couldn't move. I strutted out of that room, butt naked to bathe my screaming baby. Once we were speaking, again, Dane admitted he was jealous of the baby! I liste

Synopsis

Fast approaching forty, life’s experiences haven’t mellowed Terry Gallagher. He’s become an angry man. Sickened by the mindless violence all around him while trying to come to terms with his own thuggish past, he despairs as his near neighbour, old Mr. Johnson, war hero, is almost beaten to death in his own home while the police fail to bring anyone to justice. He rails at the apathy and neglect of incompetent politicians past and present who use an already deprived community as a dumping ground for social misfits, bad debtors, drug addicts and so called economic migrants. This was your legacy If you had the misfortune to grow up on the notorious Broughton estates, and all that Terry Gallagher had wanted to do was make a difference...

From these lawless streets, a rag bag bunch of thirteen year old scallies are shaped into a football team by one disillusioned man and his unwilling buddy. On a forgotten piece of waste ground, with stolen scaffolding for goalposts and a twenty-four hour pitch surveillance protection programme patrolled through the telescopic sight of a .22 air rifle, this team of dead end kids begin their adventure. From an inauspicious start in the local Junior District Football league to potential glory in the prestigious County Cup, for Terry Gallagher and West Broughton Albion, the season unfolds amidst a backdrop of squalor, depravity, manic depression, heroin addiction, Yardies, guns, and death; where a web of bizarre and tragic circumstances transpire to push the emotional and mental state of this reluctant philanthropist to the limit and ultimately tip him over the edge.

Excerpt

‘Duane?’ he called tentatively. ‘Duane?’ he called out again, a little louder, hardly daring to move from the bare, damp hall. He accidentally kicked the busted Yale lock that went scurrying across the floor before smacking itself to a halt up against the skirting. He thought he heard the whimper again and he slowly edged his way towards the sound, into the room that still had the meagre curtains pulled across the window where a small shaft of light penetrated the gloom through a gap at the top where they didn’t quite meet.

Then he saw her.

He froze stock still in shock. He’d been half expecting to come across something terrible, but the sight that confronted him still managed to stop him in his tracks. He tried to swallow but his saliva glands had stopped working and his sweat had started to dry cold on him. He peered into the half-light and held on to his breath. She was dead; he could see that. He inched his way into the room on feet that were reluctant to move until he could see her face, tipped back at a grotesque angle. One eye had settled up inside her head while the other, from behind a half-closed lid, stared out beyond him. Her head wasn’t the right shape; it was puffed and swollen. Curiously, just one side of her face, the one that was turned away against shoulder and settee, had become a ghastly, grey-blue colour; heavy and deformed, like all fluid had drained and settled there from other parts that were now colourless, waxy. There was vomit from her mouth, dried and congealed in a reservoir between her neck and shoulder.

Terry held his sleeve up to his face and tried to breathe sparingly. At some point she had let go of all her bodily functions and the smell was unbearable. He recoiled and tried to stop himself gipping; in t

Synopsis

After Billy Reeves had survived a poverty ridden and violent childhood on a council estate in Newcastle he thought he had it all; a loving family, money and respect but a face from the past with a point to prove and muscles to flex is out to bring  his world crashing down on him. He turns down an offer of a job with Tyneside’s most paranoid  and psychotic gang lord and is faced with bent police, a corrupt judge, an army of bouncers and the knowledge that if he makes one wrong move in this game of cat and mouse his family will end up imprisoned, abused or worse.

Billy is going to have to work very hard just to keep everyone he cares about alive and that means the gloves are coming off...

Excerpt

He's waiting in the alley under the bridge for me; I spotted that big, pretentious Shogun of his by Kwiksave. It's a contradiction of visions that just sums up the coke addled, muddled up prick quite nicely. Vince Merry, he believes himself to be the top man on Tyneside, my nemesis for so many years. He's had my little brother put away for murder and burnt down his business, threatened my ageing mother with violence, killed owld Dave and now he wants me. Well now he gets me, all of me. I'm at the entrance to the alley under the bridge, there's only one streetlight and I'm under it, darkness and shadows all around me, the fine rain is visible against the light and the wind blows sweet wrappers around my feet. I feel in my jacket pocket for the knuckle-duster, its chunky, solid feel is reassuring. Sighing softly I look up into the Newcastle night sky for what could possibly be the last time and wonder how it ever came to this. Over thirty years of keeping my head down and not offending the big boys, playing it safe and paying my dues every time and still, in the end, I have to fight it out with them. The streetlight is slightly comforting, it's got a warm yellow glow to it but it doesn't lift my mood, I would give anything to be cuddling up to Lisa now. Growing up where and how I did I've always known that life's not fair, I constantly expect to have people shit on me, I accept this and probably deep down knew that one day it would come to this. I think I even half knew it would be with this wanker as well. Weary and resigned to my fate I have to start this thing. I hope I finish it. 'Merry,’ I call into the blackness. There's a rustling sound and two figures step forward into the half-light. Big Tony stands to the right of Merry, a tattooed behemoth, all broad shoulders, big neck and massive biceps, Merry himself is brandishing a big blade, again, I expected this. My heart is pounding as the adrenalin rushes through my 9 Andy Rivers body, my legs feel frozen to the floor and my internal system is asking the question fight or flight? Understandably my brain is screaming flight but my heart knows the score and is telling me that I must fight, I've got to put him to bed once and for all. Looking at the knife, I go for the token question. 'Thought it was a straightener?' He smiles at me without humour and replies, 'Grow up Billy, we're not at school any more.' There's nothing more to say, it's time to start the endgame. Putting my duster on my right fist I smile back and step into the alley towards them. 

Synopsis

What if evil visited the one place where you feel the most safe?

Following the breakup of her marriage, Rachael retreats to the old beachhouse in Jenny's Cove, where she once lived with her grandmother. It is the one place where she had always felt safe and loved. Devasted and lost, Rachael longs for the simplicity of her childhood. 

But Jenny’s Cove has changed. From the moment of Rachael’s arrival, a man watches. He has already killed, and mercilessly will do so again. Soon Rachael becomes a target for a vicious predator whose own dark and twisted past forms a deadly bond between them.

And sets her on a collision course with a crazed killer.

Synopsis

Rose Haldane is confident about her identity. She pulls the same face as her grandfather when she has to do something she doesn’t want to do, she knows her DNA is the same as his. Except it isn’t: because Rose is adopted and doesn’t know it.

'Ignoring Gravity' connects two pairs of sisters separated by a generation of secrets. Finding her mother’s lost diaries, Rose begins to understand why she has always seemed the outsider in her family, why she feels so different from her sister Lily. Then just when she thinks there can’t be any more secrets…

Excerpt

Rose Haldane is confident about her identity. She pulls the same face as her grandfather when she has to do something she doesn’t want to do, she knows her DNA is the same as his. Except it isn’t: because Rose is adopted and doesn’t know it.

Ignoring Gravity connects two pairs of sisters separated by a generation of secrets. Finding her mother’s lost diaries, Rose begins to understand why she has always seemed the outsider in her family, why she feels so different from her sister Lily. Then just when she thinks there can’t be any more secrets…

In this scene, Rose meets with social worker Mrs Greenaway, to receive the official records of her adoption in 1968.

‘…I know I’m older than average for making this sort of discovery. I don’t blame myself for whatever it was that made my birth parents give me away, they had their reasons. I just want to understand. I’m not seeking to blame them for inadequacies in my own life.’

She glanced out of the window. The view was a red brick wall, the glass speckled with raindrops. She could feel Mrs Greenaway’s eyes focussed on her left ear.

‘I have had a fantasy since I was a child that I had a friend, a friend who was fun to play with, a friend who understood me.’ She swallowed. ‘Since I found out I was adopted, I’ve wondered if she might be my lost sister, if she was some residual memory from when I was a baby, that I have a real elder sister.’ Wanda’s face swam into focus.

‘But the sister you grew up with, err…’ Mrs Greenaway looked down at the file again.

‘Lily.’

‘Yes, Lily. She is still your sister. You grew up together, you share a common history. No one can take that away from you.’

Rose looked Mrs Greenaway straight in the eye. ‘No, they can’t. But I’m tired of wondering. I want to know if I have a lost sister or not, so can we just get on with it?’

‘Sometimes the birth mother may be dead or…’

‘Or a criminal, or worse. Yes, I know. I have thought about these things.’ And I’m trying to be positive, Rose reprimanded herself. My mother could be a businesswoman, an actress, an opera singer, an author. A journalist, like me.

Mrs Greenaway straightened her shoulders as if she had made a decision.

Rose leant forwards. Is this it?

‘You have a legal right to the following information.’ Mrs Greenaway’s voice sounded as if she were quoting from an official handbook. ‘Here is Form CA5.’ She pushed a sheet of paper across the desk towards Rose, text side down. ‘It gives you the information on your original birth certificate: your name at birth, the names of your birth parents, and the district of your birth. I’ll give yo

Synopsis

When unimaginable calamities strike, Mercy Carver, a poor London woman, wonders what she has done to deserve such immeasurable suffering. It is only when she faces imminent death in the snow and ice-encrusted Virginia wilderness that she finally understands the power of destiny.

After escaping from sadistic criminals, she crosses an ocean and falls in love with Jacob Stone, a plantation owner determined to fight Abraham Lincoln and his government.

Mercy is passionate. She loves and hates in equal measure. Can love and hatred give her the strength she needs now to reach a Northern state and free a runaway slave, wanted for murders she committed, in order to save him?

America and her people are strangled in an uncompromising political stalemate. Southern states have seceded from the Union, and a civil war is imminent.

Will Jacob find Mercy before he is embroiled in a war which could see them separated forever? Can Mercy’s determination to exact revenge on the criminal who imprisoned her be realised before she is forced to make a choice between her love for a slave owner and her ambition to assist fugitive slaves?

Mercy Carver: her journey is just beginning.

Excerpt

Mercy, dazed, bewildered, and terrified, stood in a bedraggled line with the other girls. She was afraid to move a muscle, even though her aching limbs demanded that she do so in order to free herself of painful cramps. She was terrified of being noticed or of allowing a sound to leave her mouth. Cold air was not responsible for making her teeth chatter. No, they clicked together in a song of fear. She was exhausted, sick, and trying her utmost to stand on unsteady feet.

Her wrists and ankles were raw and covered in dried blood in places because of her determined efforts to free herself from the ropes that had bound her. Her face was stinging, swollen, and bruised as though she’d been punched. Her mouth was still half open due to the painful hours she’d spent gagged, and her lips were swollen to twice their normal size with several doses of chloroform.

Horrific images floated through her mind, but she was not having a nightmare. She was not dreaming this. This was a conscious experience that she could neither comprehend nor associate anything with.

The chloroform was still lingering in her system, but she attempted to focus her thoughts on exactly what had happened to her. She had offered to help a man who was worried about his wife. The man in question was now standing alongside another man right here in this stable. She couldn’t believe stupidity and trust had led her to this. It was an unimaginable horror.

Getting tied up was not an experience she had any recollection of at all. She had woken up on the floor with back-breaking pain. Only then had she discovered her tethered body. She remembered sporadic drinks of water because of the painful procedure involved. The smelly rag that gagged her mouth had been pulled off her face and then replaced, stinging her skin. The drops of liquid poured on it had sent her into an abyss of darkness, without dreams each time.

Her tongue was numb. Her mouth was so dry that it was difficult to swallow her saliva. She had no clue as to her whereabouts. Was she far from home or was home close by? No, she determined, home was not nearby. London was not that big, and they had been on the road for a long time. She had to conclude, therefore, that they were nowhere near the city or i

Synopsis

Sandy Lovett's confused mother and chaotic life are having an effect on her waistline. She knows she needs to change her life but doesn't know how until she buys a risqué dress which sets in motion a sequence of life-changing events.

After years as a mother, carer and full-time employee, Sandy quits her job and places her mother in a care home, and life seems on the up. But disaster is never far away for the hapless Sandy as her mother’s obsessions continue to wreak havoc and her husband’s business begins to fail. Short of cash and needing a flexible job, Sandy joins a sex-chat service. At The Beaver Club Sandy discovers a talent for selling telephone sex - a skill she later regrets when she meets unscrupulous local politician and prospective MP, Trewin Thackeray.

The Changing Room is a comedy-drama for all those whose glass is half-full. Preferably with gin and a big fat cherry.

Excerpt

“Did I tell you I used to play cards during the war?” says Mum.

“Yes, you did,” I say, trying to disguise the weariness in my voice.

“We played for hours in the shelter. I learnt poker, bridge, crib and rummy. They called me The Whizz Card Kid. When I got evacuated I lived with Mr and Mrs Swanson. They had a big house near Bletchley Park.”

Mum leans forward conspiratorially and taps the side of her nose. “Mr Swanson did something top secret.”

“Really?” I say, trying my best to sound interested, even though I’ve heard this story numerous times. I stir my crème de menthe with my orange Matchmaker and suck it luxuriously to alleviate the boredom.

“Yes. He was a code breaker. Only we didn’t know back then. It was all very hush-hush.”

Mum picks up another card, studies her hand intensely, and puts down the three of spades. This seems odd as she’s only recently put down the two of spades.

“Hmm, curious,” I say, smoking my Matchmaker like Sherlock Holmes. I take another puff of my Matchmaker and rue the fact that Dr Watson is not here to assist me – or indeed anyone with some new conversation. Evenings can be very, very long with Mum.

“Of course, even though Mr Swanson was a code breaker, he couldn’t beat me at cards,” says Mum. “Not even when I drank some of their home brew cider and got tipsy.”

“Well, I’m not surprised you beat him,” I say. “You’ve always had an excellent memory.”

And don’t I know it, I groan inwardly. I could repeat all of Mum’s stories in my sleep. In fact, I could repeat all of Mum’s stories in my sleep, whilst inebriated.

“I was the best in the class at tables,” boasts Mum, interrupting my train of thought. “Ask me any and I’ll know the answer!”

Mum’s eyes light up with excitement at the thought of a maths challenge. I decide to go with the flow. “What’s seven times seven?”

“Forty nine!”

“Six times eight?”

“Forty eight!”

“Nine times seven?”

“Sixty three!”

“What’s nine times three, multiplied by two, minus thirteen?”

“Forty one!” exclaims Mum, striking the table.

Synopsis

They take his sister, attack his family and mean to kill him with extreme prejudice … What’s a guy to do?

BIZZ is a greedy collusion of organised crime, banking, government, business, politicians and corrupted spooks. They’re making lot’s of money. They aim to stay invisible, and no one gets in their way.

When investigative journalist, Eilidh Duncan, uncovers BIZZ … it’s only a matter of time

When BIZZ finds Eilidh … uhh-ohh!

When big brother, Sam Duncan, wonders why she’s offline … OMG!

Sam goes to London and joins some dots … KABOOM!

Excerpt

Nearby, the executioner waited, patient and ready. He couldn’t kill the soldier in the pisser, not with publicity one of the goals. Tension-fuelled humour rippled in his gut.

In a lavatory stall, air cut by a sharp scent of bleach, the target pulled out a Browning Hi Power. He jacked a round into the chamber and eased the safety-catch off. 

He stepped from the cubicle, ready. Empty space. He made a quizzical face at the mirror, eased the gun back into his holster and headed for the door. The urinals hissed to chase him away. No evidence, no clues, only inkling. Probably nothing, but he trusted his inner voice.

Across the way, the assassin appeared to scratch his back, touching the grip of a concealed pistol. He didn’t care about the impact of his action on bystanders. Nightmares and trauma lay beyond his concern and taking someone out in public made for an exciting mission.

He visualised the kill: up behind the victim; barrel close to the bump at the base of the skull; the shot; the drop of the body; the coup de grâce; and a swift exit. 

Imagining the escape, and excited camaraderie with the driver, gave the killer a fantastic rush. Tension became tense elation as the final trigger-pull neared. Another notch on the gun.

He looked forward to the pub, in a few hours. A quiet meeting of recognition with the commander. Glowing eyes and handshakes. The powerful affirmation, adulation and whispered congratulations. Knowing glances and nods.

He dissociated murder from the rest of his life; without doubt, a loving family man.

The target reappeared, walking among the shoppers. His wide-shouldered, lean frame, dressed casually in jeans, a country shirt, tweed jacket and Chelsea boots blended in. Easy movement suggested strength and lithe athleticism. Curling dark brown hair blew about, ruffled by fingers of breeze. The sun brightened the world for a few seconds, only to hide once more behind surging clouds.

O’Reilly left a shop window and followed walking briskly behind his quarry. Twenty metres, fifteen, ten ... The adrenaline flowed, yet his breathing stayed measured and movements precise. A car door slammed. Bus brakes squealed and hissed. Neither diverted his focus as he closed behind his victim. 

He raised his pistol. The sun came out. His toe stubbed on an uneven pavement slab deflecting his aim and affecting his balance. Worse, his silhouette betrayed him as it strode abreast of the mark. 

At an instinctive, professional level the prey understood the silhouette’s hand movement. The target faced the inevitable. Honed instincts and train