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the tears that were streaming down his face. It wasn’t his sobs or his pleading eyes. I could harden my heart to him; I only had to remember what he had done. Then I could remember why I was standing in front of him pointing a gun at his head. I was calm and the gun was steady, I knew that I could, and I would, pull the trigger.
    He was on his knees. He was trying to write on the carpet. It was threadbare and grubby, and he was shaking violently. He kept pleading over and over ‘no, no, no...’
    He managed to get to the second ‘R’ when suddenly the door opened and five year old Annie walked sleepily into the room rubbing her eyes.
    I couldn’t have been more shocked if the police had suddenly burst in. The little girl was supposed to be at her mother’s house that night. My research was meticulous.
    Annie looked from her father to me, confusion and fear snuffing out her innocence.
    I looked at the little girl then down at the man. He reached out and grabbed his daughter, pushing her behind him. My finger tightened on the trigger. I was there to do a job, I couldn’t be swayed. I had to complete the execution.

Chapter Thirteen
    Matt walked into the house.
    Jen was already there. She looked up at him as he entered the lounge. ‘Same format Gov, gun, lipstick, no break-in...’ she glanced towards the sofa, ‘just a different outcome.’
    Matt looked at James. The man was sat on his shabby sofa, with his little girl asleep, her head resting on his lap.
    ‘You’re a very lucky man.’ Matt said with feeling.
    A pale and haunted James stroked his daughter’s hair, ‘Annie walked in and the gunman ran,’ his voice was thick with emotion. ‘If my baby hadn’t needed a drink, I’d be a big mess on the floor now.’ He swallowed hard, fighting back tears.
    Matt sat himself down on a worn out chair opposite James. But it was Jen who spoke from behind him.
    ‘You a drug user Mr Tate?’
    Matt glanced behind him with some irritation.
    ‘No!’ James said, shocked.
    ‘Ever dealt?’
    ‘No. Never. I wouldn’t. I’ve got a kid.’ James looked at Matt. ‘You know I wouldn’t.’
    Matt put a hand up to silence Jen. She opened her mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. Matt had been told, mainly by his wife, that he sometimes had a cold glint in his eyes. She said, rather nastily, that as the eyes were the window to the soul it showed his true self. Cold and emotionless. Maybe she was right. Whatever the reason, Jen stopped talking.
    Matt looked at James, the strain showed on the other man’s face. He looked old, much older than Matt knew him to be. Worn out, faded. Like a garment thrown through the washing cycle to many times. James had been a good looking youth, cheeky and charming although always a bit shy and easily led. James looked like a man who had been failed by life. Or maybe it was James who had failed to live. Either way, Matt wondered if it could all have been very different.
    ‘Anything to help us identify the gunman?’ Matt said pulling himself back under control.
    ‘Person Gov.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Gunperson, Gov.’
    Matt ignored Jen and looked at James who shook his head.
    ‘He didn’t speak. Not a word. All in black, balaclava didn’t leave much on show. I was too shit scared to spend time trying to work out the colour of his eyes.’
    ‘Height? Build?’ Jen asked.
    James shrugged. ‘Dunno.’ He looked at her, ‘maybe a couple of inches taller than you.’
    Matt turned his head to look at her, a question in his eyes.
    ‘Five seven,’ she said, ‘so we’re looking at around five nine or ten.’
    Matt stood up. ‘Was there anything about the gun...’ he glanced at Jen ‘... person, that you felt was familiar?’
    James frowned, like he couldn’t comprehend the question. ‘Familiar?’
    ‘Anyone you might have pissed off?’ Jen said.
    ‘Someone you know. Or maybe someone you used to know...’ Matt said.
    James paled. The colour just drained away, like someone had