Nothing moved.

It was if someone had taken a picture out of a mystery book and lain it in front of me. Papers were everywhere, for when the study doors had been opened just for that quick second, a powerful gust of air had blown everything onto the floor. Only the lamp still stood on the antique oak desk, its lamp bulb shattered. There was no light in the room except for the little bit that the lit cigar gave off.

But in that tiny bit of light, it exposed what had happened. A carefully aimed M16 sniper bullet had pierced the mans skull. The dark red blood stain on the wall dripped slowly onto the also blood stained carpet.

To be continued...