A solitary figure in black stood on the stone parapet, watching the lines of blue and gold sky slowly descend toward grey water. Below the fortress walls, grass sloped down to the gentle waves rolling in and breaking on the shingle, as the late day sun lost its battle with gravity and slipped out of sight behind the horizon. The sky began to darken almost imperceptibly as the figure turned and strode toward several slightly smaller figures lined up farther down the catwalk. A bell tolled then, eight peals, the last one escaping across the sea to his left, as he approached the first figure, and drew a small, shiny weapon from his pocket. He placed the weapon against the prisoner's temple and pressed a pin below the barrel.