William Heinrich, a ruthlessly ambitious man, closed the door quietly behind him leaving the apartment where he had spent the night with his paramour. It had gone as planned and as he walked to his rented car which was well hidden under stately oak trees, whose branches touched each other creating a dark tunnel under which he had earlier parked the vehicle. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his left side, then a second round cracked and the bullet struck him in the back of his head and he fell forward face down onto the concrete sidewalk, blood streaming from his wounds. He was motionless. He was dead.