He didn’t have to wait long. The familiar flaring of the scope brightened the scene before him, and he tightened his grip on the MP7 as time began to slow for him imperceptibly. The first figure came into view, a cigarette already pursed in his lips, the lighter sparking as he raised it up to his mouth, exaggerated greatly by the image-intensifying properties of the sight. He was immediately followed by his comrade who was laughing, his hand extended and waiting for the cigarette to be handed over to him. The first man was having difficulty lighting the cigarette, owing to the wind that had picked up and was howling down the pathway, his hands cupped around the end of the lighter as it formed a bright flare in Tom’s vision. He lit it and then handed the cigarette pack and lighter to his friend, who repeated the process, managing to light his much quicker. They both stood just away from the door, smoking and talking, the ends of their lit cigarettes like torches in their mouths.

Picking up a stone the size of a marble, Tom tossed it at the rubbish bin close to the fence, striking the empty receptacle with a resounding and hollow-sounding ‘thunk’.

Both men’s heads turned sharply towards the noise. The larger of the two reached into the back of his trousers, producing an automatic pistol and holding it by his waist. After a brief exchange they slowly walked towards the bin, their eyes scanning all round. They moved stiffly and without tactical awareness; again, Tom detected no serious military training.

They approached the bin carefully, the other male also reaching into his waistband and producing a pistol, which he held out slightly in front of him. They stopped a couple of metres short of the bin.

Tom slowly moved the sight so the red dot hovered in the centre of the bigger man’s forehead, time inching by as he controlled his breathing and cleared his thoughts. He took up the tension in the trigger and flicked the safety catch one notch down into single-shot mode.

A further pound of pressure and the weapon lightly bucked in his grip, emitting a soft report and metallic click as the working parts, re-cocked by the gases from the shot, injected a new round into the chamber. The bigger man’s head rocked back, the cigarette arcing into the air above him like a firework.

Tom shifted his aim while calculating the trajectory. Deliberately, and in what felt like a relaxed motion, he shot the other man straight in the forehead. Both fell to the ground as if their legs had suddenly disappeared, one a fraction of a second before the other. The wind carried any noise away from the cottage and Tom doubted that anything at all had been heard by those inside.