Duane caressed the gun case on the passenger seat. It held his favourite weapon, a Ruger mini 14. It had an accurate range of four to five hundred yards and he used the .223 bullets that had been used in Vietnam. They could blow a man’s brains out while sounding no louder than a whisper.

He finished his sandwich and started his car. He drove a few hundred yards down the road, turned the car around and watched the house from a different angle.

Sure enough, he saw what he was looking for.

He picked up his binoculars and watched the man through them. He didn’t look like someone with fifty thousand dollars on his head. Duane shrugged mentally. Well, whatever the man looked like, it didn’t matter. What did matter was that he had annoyed someone in England enough to merit his head being blown off. And Duane would do just that.

George had got up early and was enjoying the sunshine in the garden. He could not help looking at the swimming pool. Its water shone, blue and cool, and he wished he had the guts to jump in it. But George couldn’t swim.

His niece and nephew were due later in the day and he was excited at the prospect of seeing them. Especially Natalie. He had seen photographs of her and she really was a good-looking girl.

Edith had informed him that she never rose before ten so he had the early morning to himself. Edith’s house-keeper, a pretty Mexican woman, told him that he should go and explore and he thought he might just take her advice. He fetched his car keys and made his way from the house. The two Dobermans growled at him as he passed them and George hurriedly opened the gates and drove through. Then, shutting them carefully, he began to drive.

He was completely unaware of the large Buick trailing him. George drove towards Orlando itself, enjoying the clean sunshine of Florida. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and now, with the sunroof open and a light breeze playing through his hair, he relaxed. After a while he found what he was looking for: the Orange Blossom Trail.

Last night at dinner, Edith and Joss had told him about the Orange Blossom Trail, saying its lovely name belied its function. It was downtown Orlando, where the tourists who flocked to Disney only went by accident. It was the Orlando version of Soho and George couldn’t wait to get there.