The hooded killer, dressed in black, leant against the tree, the cello case at right angles to her feet. She had been standing there for only two minutes because, according to her instructions, the pianist would take a cigarette break during the interval, due to begin in one more minute. She hated waiting like this because she felt exposed, and, left to her own devices, would have organised the hit in a less public place. Still, her overlord was a supreme professional, so she assumed that everything would go as planned. Her jumpy nerves made her peer around the tree trunk to reassure herself that the road was free of pedestrians. Momentarily, it was, so why didn’t her target come out? Now was the perfect time! The favourable circumstances might change from one minute to the next. Come on!
