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stomach. At least these guys hadn’t recognized him – yet.
    There wasn’t any doubt what would happen if someone looked inside of his duffle. Even if the cops didn’t match his face to the bulletins and most wanted list, the rail gun and Glock .45 pistol would result in an inquiry. The weapons, combined with the wads of cash and fake gold would definitely cause his fingerprints and mug shot to be run on every law enforcement computer in the country.
    His mind scrambled to figure a way out. He might chance pulling either the pistol or the rail gun, but both would require a significant amount of time to draw, load, and fire. All of these guys were armed, the outline of their sidearms now obvious under their shirts. Desperate to buy some time, he decided to try to stall. Pausing, he reached into his cart and pulled out a recently purchased pack of gum. As slow as possible, he fumbled with unwrapping a stick and popped it into his mouth.
    The store-gumshoe frowned at the delay. “What are you doing?”
    “My mouth is dry. Since you’re obviously intent on locking me away for an extended period of time, I thought I’d better take advantage now before you throw me in the dungeon and forget I’m there.”
    “You can keep you r possessions… at least the ones you paid for,” informed the head guard. “Sometimes it takes the local cops a while to get here, so I hope you have some food in there.”
    They meandered through the bowels of the warehouse, eventually arriving at a room that was slightly larger than the average closet. Inside was a single chair. “Please wait inside,” instructed Mr. Security Chief.
    Peeking through the doorway , Dusty hesitated. “I’m claustrophobic,” he protested.
    “Not my problem,” responded the guard, moving closer to intimidate. Dusty positioned himself as if he was thinking about running, the act complete with darting eyes and deep breaths. It was a distraction, giving him a moment to slip his wad of gum into the door lock’s receptacle as his hand brushed against the frame. He finally went inside with a look of terror on his face.
    One of the guards rolled the shopping cart full of packages inside the small room and then closed the door. Dusty heard the fellow check the knob, making sure the prisoner was secure.
    Dropping immediately to the floor, Dusty listened to his captors through the gap between the linoleum tile and the bottom of the door. He heard the head man bark, “You two go back out and watch the store. I’ll call the Kemah PD and get a car out here.”
    Following their orders, he listened as the two men stamped off. The boss hung around for a moment, and then his footsteps faded into the distance as well.
    Dusty grabbed the door handle with both hands and pushed hard. It opened without much effort. The gum had done its job, blocking the lock’s bolt from fully closing into the frame. He had learned the trick from an older boy in high school, sticking a mouthful of the sticky substance in the side door’s lock so they could sneak in on weekends and play basketball in the gym.
    He cautiously stuck his head out of the opening, finding the area empty of any store employees. He returned to the closet, rushing through his bags and packing his purchased items into the new backpack. Sticking the Glock and one of the new cell phones in his pocket, he exited the pseudo-cell and made for a far row of shelves.
    The red light of an exit sign was visible up ahead , and it was tempting. His initial reaction was to make a rush for the back door, but something else drew his attention. There was a camera mounted on the wall. Glancing around, he noted the place was thick with the electronic eyes. That was a problem.
    Even if he made a clea n escape, there was little doubt his image resided on the store’s security system – probably from multiple angles. That video, when analyzed, would confirm he was still alive, lead to the taxi, then the hotel, and finally an undeniable