The hit

Something a little different tonight...the marvellous streets of Monmouth kinda inspired me to write this story, so here it is...

The Hit
Andy glanced at his watch.  "Less than 5 minutes.  It's time." - his victim was waiting.  He walked down the high street fast, despite the tourists.  He glanced at his watch.
  Two minutes gone, nearly three.
  The street was packed, too many witnesses.  He overtook grannies, sidestepping walking sticks, holding his breath each time.  He'd gone through the route a million times back at base, but you were never sure about these things.  Speed was paramount to mission success.
  The street curved, and in a flash he saw an opening between the mum's double buggy and gang of gossips.  He accelerated through it, his feet kicking up plumes of dust on both sides.  And then he was through, still going.  Still going.
  Five minutes.
  In his pocket his hand closed on the weapon.  The metal hard, cold in his fingers.  As he headed up the hill, he saw the light crossing direct ahead, little man turning red.  Damn.  There was an explosion in his head, and his feet ran out of pavement and stopped dead.
  Six minutes.
  He stood there, hearing the whirl of the double buggy behind, catching up, fast.  The dull groan of the gossips, getting louder, louder.
  Seven minutes.  Andy looked up, red.  Eight minutes.
  At least.  Eight-and-a-half-minutes.
  Green.
  Andy threw himself across the road, in his pocket his sweaty fingers caressed the metal. 
  Straight ahead he saw the victim, who seemed strangely relaxed.  Of course she would be, she didn't know.
  "Lucy," he shouted, her face lit.  He put his hand into his pocket, pulled out the weapon.
  Lucy wasn't smiling anymore...
  Andy was on one knee now, staring up at her, holding up the cold, hard ring, packed with diamonds glistening in the sunlight.
  "Will you marry me?"
  Lucy turned her smiling face towards him.
  It was up to her now...