Sorry, Master.’ ‘Good,’ I said more kindly. ‘This lady,’ I indicated Wendy, ‘is my wife and you shall treat her with the greatest of respe...t, but she is not your mistress because you belong to me alone.’ ‘Yes, Master.’ ‘Hello, Florence,’ said Wendy pleasantly. ‘Hello, madam,’ she respectfully replied. ‘Florence,’ I told her, ‘give me an account of yourself.’ So Florence told her story. She was Nigerian and her family had sent her to England to study, which she had been doing diligently but. It was quiet this morning, the bays empty, the familiar smell of gunpowder and the slight scent of sweat enveloping her senses. She chose her usual bay, third from the left, put her range bag down on the brass littered concrete floor, unzipped the bag, and carefully set her beloved Glock 34 on the bench rest, accompanied by three empty magazines and two fifty count boxes of 9mm ammunition. It was just her and the waiting silence of the target, 50 metres downrange. Loading each magazine, putting. More

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