Chapter Twenty-Seven
COLONEL GERRY HAD decided that it didn’t count as a miss if you weren’t aiming. After all, sometimes it was useful to flush out the prey wasn’t it? To force the target into the open where it could be cleanly and swiftly despatched.
Yes. That was constructive and in no way counted towards his missed shots.
He cocked the rifle and fired again.
The entrance to the racetrack was white wood surrounded by electric bulbs. It offered roughly two feet of cover. Less, the more he managed to chip away at it with his bullets. Clearly the gate was closed otherwise they would have gone inside. Once in the seating ring of the auditorium he would be unable to get a line of sight on them but that wasn’t a problem as, clearly, they couldn’t get in.
Yes. This was actually shaping up rather well.
He took his next shot.