When he pulled the trigger, he was deafened by the sound. Planning didn’t prepare him for the carnage created in less than that second.
He tasted my own vomitus, embarrassed. The treasured family Luger was carefully placed in the man's hand, making sure to place it in the right hand.
The police wouldn’t be fooled for long, he knew. DNA and other forensic evidence would uncover the truth. It simply had to look like a suicide. He needed time, two hours at most. He’d established a rigid timetable to pull off the escape.
He took final inventory, trying to avoid looking at the bloody stump where a head used to be. Claussen wasn’t squeamish. His only regret, the damage to the suit on the body, a Brioni Vanquish II. He’d paid $43,000 for the ensemble splattered with detritus.
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