The patchwork of green and brown that scattered across the hilltop facing the Sunnyvale Golf and Country Club became even more varied from shadows cast by clouds streaming overhead. Leaves from bountiful maple trees gently fluttered to the ground adding to the plethora of scarlets and gold already present. James Brant adjusted his position. An earthy odour oozed up to assail his nostrils while the leafy carpet beneath him crackled. He had already been there three hours. Cold air seeped through his clothi...