James stared morosely through the triple glazed bulletproof kitchen window of Lavender Cottage and sighed. Outside, atop the searchlight tower, a blackbird warbled its sweet song. Noisy green finches attacked the fat ball hanging from the high barbed wire security fence. It was deadly quiet inside.
He went through his usual routine. Habits acquired, not lost. Beretta cleaned and fully loaded. Hair still in place on the door jam.
This is not what he had expected from retirement, but things had changed since it was learnt that the person killed in the explosion was not Dr No, but a body double.
For Friday Fictioneers.