Chapter 60
He cycled along the narrow roadway giving a quick warning ring of his handlebar bell before he flew by the walker. Further on, as the road became more of a track, he encountered some chirpy elderly hikers with a lively dog. Two hundred metres beyond, he rang the bell again causing his target to stop and look back before stepping to the side. Nicks passed him with a smile and a cheery, “Thanks, mate,” then left him behind.
Once sufficiently under the tree canopy, he stopped and upended the mountain bike, placed his day sack on the ground, its Velcro flap pulled back to reveal the grip of an M1895 Nagant suppressed revolver. He flipped the small mirror fitted to the front forks giving himself a view of his approaching prey. Removing the bike pump from its holder, he began to feign inflating the front tyre.
The target passed him without acknowledgement. Nicks bent down, dropped the pump in the bag and removed the Nagant as he stood up. Hammer cocked, weaver stance, aim, trigger squeeze, job done. Weapon away, bike right way up, mirror flipped and he was off, leaving his victim breathing his last on the dirt floor.
At the joining of the track with Plex Moss Lane, he turned left and cycled the relatively short distance to the by-pass where Simon had the grey van parked on the old Southport road. Bike loaded into the back, their next stop was the nearby industrial estate for a slick bag and key exchange with the waiting support crew before driving away in the red mini.
Simon glanced at Nicks, “That went well. Fancy a pint?”