# data[].attributes.body
The  attacker aimed his gun again...

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"When you are gone, I will be the olny one who know the truth."

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In an instant, the curator grasped the true horror of the situation...

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"If I die, the truth will be lost forever." Instinctively, he tried to scramble for cover.

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The gun roared.

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The curator felt a searing heat as the bullet lodged in his stomach.

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Slowly, Sauniére rolled over and stared back through the bars at his attacker.

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The man was now taking dead aim at Sauniére's head...

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Sauniére closed his eyes, his thoughts a swirling tempest of fear and regret.

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The click of an empty chamber echoed through the corridor...

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The curator's eyes flew open.

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The man glanced down at his weapon, looking almost amused.

He reached for a second clip, but then seemed to reconsider, smirking...

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"My work here is done".

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The curator looked down and saw the bullet hole in his white linen shirt.
It was framed by a small circle of blood a few inches below his breastbone...

# data[].attributes.body
"My stomach."

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Almost cruelly, the bullet had missed his heart.