behind him.
He moved down the corridor, careful not to touch any of the doors in case they were alarmed. He continued down two flights of stairs until he found what was obviously the master bedroom. Having had a quick look around, he then found a guest room and hid in the large walk-in wardrobe that led off the room. Closing the door, he opened his backpack and took out a pistol and silencer. He screwed the silencer into place, checked the magazine and sat down to wait. The silencer would do little to muffle the sound of a shot going off indoors but it made the pistol look more menacing and, if all went to plan, this was all that was going to be required.
Two hours later Fairweather opened the main door, allowing Camilla to enter the house first. âGo on inâ, he said, âI just need to switch the alarm off and Iâll be with you.â He opened a sliding panel hidden behind a picture on the wall of the inner hall. He entered the code and the flashing red light turned green.
âWelcome to my humble abode,â said Fairweather, rejoining Camilla and ushering her up the opulent staircase to a sitting room on the first floor. The room was richly appointed with antique furniture and comfortable sofas. The walls were adorned with a mix of contemporary and traditional works of art. Camilla was impressed, recognising an early Hockney, two Lichensteins and what looked to be an original Dali. She accepted the glass of champagne that Fairweather offered her.
âCheers,â said Fairweather, clinking his glass against hers. âNow let me show you this painting.â He disappeared off to another room and reappeared carrying a heavily framed picture. âIâve just bought it,â he said, turning it round so she could see it. Camilla gasped then leaned in to study it more closely. It was a beautifully done painting of a horse. An original Stubbs. It wasnât as magnificent as Stubbâs famous painting of the prancing Whistlejacket but it was a close second.
âI remember the sale being covered in the press,â said Camilla. âThe buyer was anonymous. We assumed it was a Russian or Chinese billionaire!â
Fairweather smiled. âNo, I bought it but I wanted to keep it quiet. Notwithstanding the two paintings of yours that I bought for the office, I buy art for me to appreciate, not others. And I like to keep my acquisitions reasonably quiet so I donât attract the wrong sort of attention.â
Camilla nodded in understanding. As surprising as it might seem, art theft was on the increase. Camillaâs hand closed over Fairweatherâs on the gilded frame. âYou have an excellent eye for beautiful things,â she said.
âThank you,â said Fairweather. He avoided the obvious response but leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. She responded, putting her arm round his neck and pulling him towards her, returning his kiss with a passion that surprised and delighted him. He stood up and, taking her by the hand, led her upstairs to his bedroom.
The assassin could hear the sound of muffled voices downstairs. He was in no rush having long ago learnt that patience was indeed a virtue, particularly when you were waiting for the right moment to kill someone. He had a plan but knew that he would have to improvise. One of the first things he had learned in the military was that things never worked out as you intended. The benefit of detailed planning was not the plan itself but the myriad possibilities that were considered during the planning process. Done thoroughly, this meant that you were ready for whatever happened when the plan started to fall apart. He could hear footsteps on the stairs and then the sound of the master bedroom door opening. Fairweather listened harder, straining his ear against the wall. He could hear quiet, intimate laughter and then the sound of clothes being removed. He had seen the blonde through his binoculars. Stunningly
He moved down the corridor, careful not to touch any of the doors in case they were alarmed. He continued down two flights of stairs until he found what was obviously the master bedroom. Having had a quick look around, he then found a guest room and hid in the large walk-in wardrobe that led off the room. Closing the door, he opened his backpack and took out a pistol and silencer. He screwed the silencer into place, checked the magazine and sat down to wait. The silencer would do little to muffle the sound of a shot going off indoors but it made the pistol look more menacing and, if all went to plan, this was all that was going to be required.
Two hours later Fairweather opened the main door, allowing Camilla to enter the house first. âGo on inâ, he said, âI just need to switch the alarm off and Iâll be with you.â He opened a sliding panel hidden behind a picture on the wall of the inner hall. He entered the code and the flashing red light turned green.
âWelcome to my humble abode,â said Fairweather, rejoining Camilla and ushering her up the opulent staircase to a sitting room on the first floor. The room was richly appointed with antique furniture and comfortable sofas. The walls were adorned with a mix of contemporary and traditional works of art. Camilla was impressed, recognising an early Hockney, two Lichensteins and what looked to be an original Dali. She accepted the glass of champagne that Fairweather offered her.
âCheers,â said Fairweather, clinking his glass against hers. âNow let me show you this painting.â He disappeared off to another room and reappeared carrying a heavily framed picture. âIâve just bought it,â he said, turning it round so she could see it. Camilla gasped then leaned in to study it more closely. It was a beautifully done painting of a horse. An original Stubbs. It wasnât as magnificent as Stubbâs famous painting of the prancing Whistlejacket but it was a close second.
âI remember the sale being covered in the press,â said Camilla. âThe buyer was anonymous. We assumed it was a Russian or Chinese billionaire!â
Fairweather smiled. âNo, I bought it but I wanted to keep it quiet. Notwithstanding the two paintings of yours that I bought for the office, I buy art for me to appreciate, not others. And I like to keep my acquisitions reasonably quiet so I donât attract the wrong sort of attention.â
Camilla nodded in understanding. As surprising as it might seem, art theft was on the increase. Camillaâs hand closed over Fairweatherâs on the gilded frame. âYou have an excellent eye for beautiful things,â she said.
âThank you,â said Fairweather. He avoided the obvious response but leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. She responded, putting her arm round his neck and pulling him towards her, returning his kiss with a passion that surprised and delighted him. He stood up and, taking her by the hand, led her upstairs to his bedroom.
The assassin could hear the sound of muffled voices downstairs. He was in no rush having long ago learnt that patience was indeed a virtue, particularly when you were waiting for the right moment to kill someone. He had a plan but knew that he would have to improvise. One of the first things he had learned in the military was that things never worked out as you intended. The benefit of detailed planning was not the plan itself but the myriad possibilities that were considered during the planning process. Done thoroughly, this meant that you were ready for whatever happened when the plan started to fall apart. He could hear footsteps on the stairs and then the sound of the master bedroom door opening. Fairweather listened harder, straining his ear against the wall. He could hear quiet, intimate laughter and then the sound of clothes being removed. He had seen the blonde through his binoculars. Stunningly
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