“What makes you think that?” he spoke in calm and measured tones.
“I heard the two shots from down in the station,” Sue’s voice was distinctly distressed now.
“Ah those shots, John did you hear them?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And could you identify the weapon they came from?”
“Browning 9mm semi-automatic, modified, Sir.”
“And the MI5 agents assigned weapons?”
“Smith & Wesson .357 model M & P 357, Sir.”
“Thank you John. As I said Sue, he is an expert in these matters. Like a wine expert can tell where a wine comes from down to the vineyard, John can tell what a weapon is by its report.”
“So you’re saying he’s not dead?” Sue looked at him like a drowning person would look at a floating log.
“Not unless he shot himself, and that’s highly unlikely.”
Her hopes were dashed as she remembered Feath
