"Do you believe in God Simon? I mean, do you believe implicitly that there's a heaven, or a hell, waiting for us?" A 68-year-old Anne, leant over to her right and reached into the car, then retrieved the Glock 45ACP, and jerked the slide back in a rapid practised motion. The metallic clang of the slide being pulled forward, by the pressurised and anxious recoil spring, had Simon's perception tunnel-visioned onto the hungry wide mouth of the barrel of the cocked pistol. At that moment, his world had been depleted from the colour of Anne's tied up hair, the sound of another truck that had just thundered past on far side of the Audi; with the truck driver only to happy that he hadn't been the one who was pulled over, and the freshly-cold wet smell of the tar under the left side of Simon's head.. The slide parked aloud in its normal position, having fed a single 230 grain .45ACP Winchester Back Talon round into the chamber.