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He turned back. Emptied the tube of glue into the first guy’s palms and crushed them together and counted to ten. Chemical handcuffs.
The only thing he had bought for the house was a gold-colored filter cone for Leon’s old coffee machine. He figured it was easier than always running to the store to buy the paper kind. Ten past four that morning, he filled it with coffee from a can and added water and set the machine going. Rinsed out a mug at the sink and set it on the counter, ready.
It lined up behind a 747 bound for Tokyo the way a mouse lines up behind an elephant.
