Still humming the annoying Madonna tune, Sayer arrived at the mansion’s entrance. The front door stood slightly ajar - an omen if ever he’d seen one. And one that didn’t paint a pretty picture of the scenario to come, he reflected dolefully as he withdrew his Colt from its covert shoulder holster. Standing to one side of the jamb with his back against the wall, he took a deep breath and then stole a glance through the narrow gap. Immediately spotting the movement inside, Sayer felt his pulse race and he leant back against the wall once again, closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Without warning, he slipped through the opening in the front door as quietly as he could manage. He was faced by a pistol at point blank range - it’s owner obscured in the shadow. Gripping the Colt tight,
