Time regressed to forty minutes earlier.
As the old lady watched the young man who called himself Jack leave with his burly assistant, she gauged the young man moving towards his new target. Observing the gentleman at the door and the so-called artist with a scruffy beard conversing with him, the old lady smiled and shook her head.
"Dear Leonard, that boy has gone to the shop right across from us," she said without turning around.
Her husband then opened the top flap of the coffee table and took out a shotgun from the compartment inside: "That boy is naive and hasn't seen much of the world; he doesn't know what he's up against."