Mr Jones carefully aimed at the back of the girls head. It was nothing personal, as always, and to be fair she would never know what happened.
He fired.
She instantly turned into a glossy black mannequin, and he was pretty sure he heard the bullet (A .44 full jacket, armour piercing) ricochet off into the car lot somewhere.
He switched to semi-auto and pumped four more into her back as she fell. Again, the rounds bounced off the black material, hitting cars and setting off a myriad of alarms.
Her two bodyguards immediately sought cover and returned fire. Suddenly the lot was filled with the sound of breaking glass, even more car alarms and metal hitting metal, as one of the body guards laid down a storm of needle-like flechettes.
Mr Jones sighed heavily. "Well, Mr Smith. If at first you don't succeed?"
"Try, try again Mr Jones. Try, try again."
"We tried to be clean. Now it's time to play dirty."
"Indubitably Mr Jones. I believe an 'Exit. Stage left' is called for."
"Indeed Mr Smith. After you?"
Smith leaned past Jones and threw a sticky grenade at the large glass wall panel visible through the building's support struts. There was a wet splat as it landed, then an explosion as the entire panel blew out.
"It's awfully blunt doing it this way, but needs must." Jones pressed a trigger on a small box he'd taken from his pocket. Above, a series of demolition charges went off as they both leapt out of the side of the building, pulling their base-jumping parachutes and gliding away as the Hancock tower pancaked behind them. Billowing clouds of pulverised concrete filled the air obscuring their escape.