Moving my aim, I checked the driver, then swung back to the muscle. Less than two inches movement from this distance. One second.Concentrating - there...was no room for error - my heart rate slowed. Hands stilled. Body relaxed. Rifle butt snug to my shoulder, I aimed at the driver, stopped breathing, and gently squeezed the trigger.The shot was loud, echoing across the cemetery, the rifle butt shoving back at me. The Suburban’s windscreen cracked like a spider web around a hole. Without. "I think I shall walk," I said icily, "Good day!" and crunching the gravel beneath my patent leather shoe's soles I set to walk through the village and up to the Hall one last time.The serried rows of houses looked unaccustomedly clean, pristine almost, shorn of their cloak of smoke and their dusting of smoke dust now the Mill had fallen silent and the coal mine worked only one shaft on one shift and that half manned.Serried ranks, a serried rank of workess men queued outside the Miner's Arms. More

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