Greyson Andrews lined up with the scope of his sniper rifle, carefully adjusting the barrel a few millimeters to the left. From his hidden vantage point on an apartment building rooftop, he could see his target clearly as the man strutted about his penthouse flat on the east side of London. Greyson watched the pudgy man in the expensive clothes as he reached across his bar to pour himself a glass of scotch.
The key to success in Greyson’s line of work was timing. One missed shot was a way to get caught, or killed.
The man in his sights lumbered over to a plush couch in front of a TV and plopped down. Greyson readied himself; the target had to be standing still before he’d risk firing. He blew out a slow, measured breath, then squeezed the trigger. The bullet shot out of the barrel and sh
