STANDPOINT a gripping thriller full of suspense Read Online Free PDF

regular Handguns for Dummies.
    Karl had a Buddhist-like calm, if you could forget about the firearm. Stripped of banter and bravado, he was a man in his element, comfortably loosing off rounds in tight formations until the magazine was spent. He put his weapon down and shifted the headgear.
    “Now, you; and remember to allow for the kickback.”
    Thomas stood at the line and felt the cool weight of a Browning in his hands. The ear-defenders cocooned him, sealing him in with his thoughts. He gripped the handle tightly and watched the tiny, almost undetectable tremor of the barrel. The paper circles awaited him, and he leaned forward slightly, breathing into his stomach as he crushed his finger against the trigger in a single, fluid movement. Then he waited, statue-like, as the dulled whine of the bullet echoed in his head. After three more shots, he stopped and put the gun down. He was, even by his own estimation, shit.
    Karl clearly thought that laughter didn’t count as speech.
    “It’s fine — for a beginner and all. Let’s try something a little more provocative.”
    At the flick of a button, terrorists swivelled towards them in a ragged line. Karl took the stand and quickly got into his stride. Head and heart, just like in the movies.
    “Now you.”
    Thomas stepped up and something clicked in his psyche. When he looked into the anonymous, printed faces, his mind went slipstream. He saw teachers, the Neanderthals at school, Bob Peterson and his own father. And now, when he pulled the trigger, he was rewriting history, redressing the balance of power in his head.
    He finished the salvo and placed the gun down, touching it gently like a talisman. The targets bore the conviction of his thoughts; every one a body shot.
    “That was much better, Tommo. I think we’ve found your brand!” Karl applauded. “Better than many I’ve seen, picking up a gun for the first time.”
    “Thanks,” he acknowledged, justly pleased, except it wasn’t the first time.
    * * *
    The bar was actually a café, which was a relief. Guns and alcohol hadn’t sounded like a good mix. Karl pointed him to a couple of comfy chairs and went off for coffees. Teresa waved from across the room, keeping her distance. Thomas glanced from table to table at the crowd — singles, couples and groups, and presumably every one of them proficient with a gun. He didn’t feel reassured.
    Karl seemed different somehow, since the shooting practice. But then, Thomas reasoned, thirty-six rounds from an automatic pistol would do that. “Right then Tommo, what’s on your mind?” Karl blundered up and slapped a tray on the table.
    “What . . . what do you mean?”
    It was a well-practised stalling technique; if in doubt, act distracted. He reached for a cup carefully, but Karl didn't look impressed.
    “Come on, Thomas, cards on the table. I’ve brought you into my confidence, shown you part of my secret world . . .” Karl grinned and eased back in his chair, “. . . How about returning the favour?”
    Thomas peeled his back away from the vinyl upholstery. Every breath seemed to spread the dampness.
    “I'm not sure what you’re on about. You’ve obviously invited me here for a reason — if it’s to join your private army, on today’s performance, you’d best put me down as a driver,” he searched Karl’s face for a punchline. “Beyond that, I’m clueless.”
    Karl smacked his lips. “You can play that innocent abroad line as long as you like, but I don’t buy it. Something happened yesterday — I’m not sure what.”
    Thomas felt himself blushing. Stupid bastard . He tilted his head towards the coffee. Yeah, that’d work, hiding in the coffee steam.
    “Anyway,” Karl continued, sipping at his cup, “I’m pretty sure you’re clean, so I guess that puts us on a level footing, whoever you represent.”
    It sounded like a cue.
    “Sorry, you’ve lost me — who I represent?”
    “ Come on now, Tommo, enough with the games. Why else would