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The man looked across at the driver and scowled for the umpteenth time that night. He couldn’t believe his colleague could be so bloody stupid as to reverse the van into a bloody gate post.
He’d had to get out and make sure they’d left no trace. Even the slightest fleck of paint on the wood could lead the police to them. The whole point was to ensure there were no witnesses. Leaving forensic material would be a hundred times worse.
The guns were modified as to be more or less untraceable. If they recovered bullets they’d be able to tell the type of gun used, but that would be about it. There’d be blood from the boys at the scene, too, but that was unavoidable. Anyway, no-one would’ve heard a gunshot out there. The lights had been off in the closest farmhouse the whole time — odd for
