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by Al Haas (Author)
"The rifleman hunkered down behind a boulder at the top of the quarry cliff which he used to steady the .308. None of the nearby leaves was stirring. An eerie dead calm prevailed . . . He found his quarry sitting at a penitentiary picnic table, facing in his direction. He was reading Gourmet magazine-a rather punishing pastime for someone living on prison food. The rifleman chambered a cartridge and estimated the bullet's drop. He then placed the crosshairs on a spot above the bald target's old hairline. He squeezed the trigger with the gentleness of a nursing mother."
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