The man lived in a semi detached house mid way down a tree lined avenue. That made him probably lower middle to upper middle class. Not enough money to make it to the stockbroker belt, but well away from the estates Graham had become accustomed to living in.
A slightly ageing Jaguar appeared so the man appreciated cars, perhaps wanted a status symbol but couldn't afford an XJS. Whether it meant that he was trying to be a little patriotic was debatable. Performance wise it would have been more sensible to buy something Japanese, price wise too the clever option.
Living so close to his office he could have walked but no doubt he needed to impress clients. An estate agent, no trouble justifying a termination then. That simple fact, his profession, left the flood gates open to countless possible reasons for someone needing to employ his services. But what was puzzling was the sum involved, hardly chicken feed.

Still hiring someone to kill off your enemies was not a simple task, in fact Graham had yet to decide how anyone would go about such a task.
Another estate agent would no doubt have adequate finances!
Graham followed his quarry for two days. Even during that brief period of time a certain pattern emerged, he liked to unwind in the pub before going home. There was little to learn from his pattern of movements about anything that would feasiblely have led him into life's firing range, no mistress or boyfriend.
Irrelevant really.
So Graham had his game plan. Unless something interesting happened he would let the man enjoy one more full day at work. Even before leaving home he made a few decisions, up close suggested that the best weapon would be his shiny new shotgun, after all it needed a field test. Only such a large weapon would usually prove difficult to conceal. However Graham had modified the Browning pump action riot shotgun to suit his needs. A pump action had seemed the most logical choice, five shot meant he was unlikely to ever need to reload on the job. That was useful for several reasons, not least that it would have been possible to leave a fingerprint on a cartridge when working in haste. With most of the barrel removed it was still longer that he could have made a side by side, yet not impossible to conceal beneath a loose jacket or long coat. If he had been reckless he could have chosen an eight shot repeater, but the extra length would have been much more difficult to hide.
What brought a broad smile to Graham's face was the UZI pistol, fully automatic. Maybe if he got excited he could empty the magazine in a few seconds, but it made him feel powerful.
Hardly the weapon for discretion though, tamed it was beautiful, but the silencer was quite long and bulky, making an unsightly bulge beneath clothing, especially if he was already carrying the shotgun. So as an emergency back up it would have to be naked, in this condition it barked like a tormented banshee igniting anal coughs containing a high percentage of methane and lighter fuel.
‘Don't be stupid enough to get caught.'
Words of wisdom.
Once the target was ensconced at work Graham began to follow his plan. At five of clock he wandered into the car park of the Dog and Pheasant and slid a thunderflash up the exhaust of a parked car. The fuse had been extended, it gave him twenty to thirty seconds to disappear.
To the uninitiated, the result of such an action would light up the eyes of most young boys, as they are like overgrown bangers used by the army on training exercises. The resulting retort was modified by the tube, bringing as close to gunfire as was easily possible.
Obviously the explosion brought people out of the pub. On close scrutiny of the area someone noticed that one of the vehicles was smoking slightly.
"Bloody kids, it isn't anywhere near bloody bonfire night either."
Half an hour later the trick was repeated which prompted a similar response. Conditioning. The third bang was from the Axletapper, about fifty yards down the road, but was still audible inside the target's local. Graham had just pushed open the door to the snug as the diversion occurred.
"Strongbow?" he questioned.
"Pint or half?"
"Pint please," Graham replied moving up to the bar.
"At least they're moving into town," muttered a voice. A remark clearly aimed at the barman.
"Just as well, God knows where they got the things, they don't sound like ordinary bangers."
Graham remained silent, his intention had been solely to ensure the blast was audible and assess response. After about fifteen to twenty minutes the victim entered the bar and the landlord moved through to serve him.
"Evening Henry, the usual?"
"Yes. A quarter of an hour to unwind before going back to the witch."
"You're very tolerant, I would have divorced her years ago."
"Before God I said ‘for better or worse'."
"If he's watching he'd understand."
"I don't know what's got into her these last six months, she never used to be so evil."
"Obviously, it's only the third time you've derided her in public."
"Don't mind me, everyone knows that she hasn't a nice word for anyone."
"It's the change," shouted the figure next to Graham.
"Into what?" asked his colleague.
"It isn't as though you're playing the field," continued the barman.
"Two things," Henry began, "I wouldn't dare and my religion forbids it."
"Couldn't you ask God to turn her into someone amenable?"
The man laughed and took a long draught. Graham finished his drink and placed to glass down with an audible tap. The barman turned and Graham waved as she stood up and moved to the door.
"Goodnight then."
"Goodnight," replied the host.
In preparation the young man moved his car, parking it at the kerb side just in front of the Jaguar. Then he tooled up and waited, knowing it would be only minutes. At the sight of an opening door he stepped onto the pavement and fiddled with his mirror for a couple of seconds. As he heard the approaching footfalls he turned, unbuttoning the last fastening on his coat.
"Good evening?"
"If you say so," replied Henry rather sullenly.
"A devout Christian then?"
"I've just left the pub. I take it you believe in God?"
"Yes, why."
"He's waiting for you."
Graham opened his coat with a flourish and levelled the sawn off.
"Christ no!"
Briefly he turned his head, looking for support, but they were alone.
"I expect the witch couldn't wait to get rid of you," laughed Graham as he squeezed the trigger. "Damn those kids," spat the landlord.
"That sounded a little different, do you think one of us should look. It could have damaged a silencer."
"I'm surprised Henry didn't see them this time."
"Well his car wouldn't backfire."
"Would they go off if you just shoved them up the pipe? I mean when you started the car?"
"I don't know, George, stick your head out and see if his car is still there."
Begrudgingly the figure moved.
"Yes, but I can't see him, so he must have his head under the car."
"Go and see if he wants to call the garage."
It wasn't a spare part for the car he needed, it was a new chest, heart and lungs job. In his eyes the words ‘nearer my God to thee' were appropriate.
About a mile away, heading out of town, an elated figure was glowing from the adrenalin rush.
"That was so easy," he laughed. "It's rewarding to see a body dance so fluidly."
Most people would be horrified at even the thought of death, clearly from Graham's viewpoint it was probably better than sex.