Once again, she seemed flustered. She fumbled with a zip-lock style plastic bag, got it open, and held it out, just under the sample stick. He dropped...it inside."Brett ... I..."But he turned his back on her and walked through the front door without a word, letting it slam behind him. Steadily, he marched back up the stairs and through his apartment door. He strode to the telephone, picked it up and dialed from memory."Maria? This is Brett Wheatley ... Yes, thank you ... No, the apartment's just. Edward decided to keep quiet, fearing punishment for his attempts at escape. As the guard entered the corridor, carrying a lamp, Edward realized how desperate his situation was. The man only had a few keys with him, and they were around his neck, reflecting some of the yellow light from his lamp. He carried a pistol on his side and a wooden stick. He turned back to the entrance, and shouted up the stairs. A shadow began to descend, the footsteps more quiet and graceful. Edward couldn’t believe. More

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