“You’ve done nothing but waste my time.  I’m going to leave.  I’ll be back at 0800 tomorrow.  I expect that by then, you’ll have produced the results you claimed to have achieved in your request for additional equipment and funding.”

He put his cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply before continuing, “Don’t disappoint me.”

He walked out, ignoring Dr. Slegsen’s objections.  He knew the doctor didn’t have any result to show, but maybe this would be enough motivation for him to produce something.

In the car, he tapped the last cigarette from its pack.  As he lit up, he considered that maybe it was time to try to quit.  Now didn’t seem to be a good time.  It was never a good time.

15 minutes later, he pulled into the gas station.  After locking the car, he went inside, “$20 on 7, and a carton of Morleys.”

The girl behind the counter recognized him.  He’d been here for almost a week now.  She smiled a little bit, a smile that brightened her average face, “Oh, it’s you.  What’s your name, again?  Is it Sam?”

He nodded.  He’d never told her his name was Sam.  He’d never told her any name.  But he never argued when someone else made up an assumed name for him.

She didn’t need any further encouragement, “Well, Sam, you’ve bought three cartons since you got into town.  You should really cut back.”

“I know,” he paused to read her nametag, “Clarice.  I really should.”

She turned around to get a carton from the case, “Morleys’ having a big promotion right now.  All their packs have double points on them.  I don’t suppose you collect Morley points, do you?”

“No.”

“You don’t look like you would.  You wear such nice suits, Sam.  But the current Morley catalog has a really nice card table.  I bet you play cards.”

“Sometimes.  Not as often as I used to.”

“Well, you traveling salesmen are always on the road,” she put the carton on the counter, and picked up the cash he’d set there, “One carton of Morleys, and $20 on,” she paused to look out the window as his car, “number 7.  Have a nice day.  Thank you, Sam.”

He took his carton, tossed it in the back seat of the car, and pumped his gas.  It only took $16.48.  He went back inside for his change.  There was a 20-something at the register, and he browsed the snack aisles while he waited.  Beef jerky sounded good.  Something chewy and full of flavor.  He stood, looking at the different packages, uncertain if he should be adding something so high in salt to his already unhealthy lifestyle.  He picked out a package of Pemmican Original.

He heard Clarice open the drawer, and a young man’s voice, “Nice and slow, keep your hands where I can see them.”

He didn’t look.  He didn’t have to look.  Clarice was putting the money in a plastic bag.  He could hear her trembling fingers.  Either he hadn’t been noticed, or the thug didn’t think he mattered.

“I told you to keep your hands where I can see them!” the thug yelled, accompanied by the sound of metal hitting flesh.  Clarice started crying.  “Shut up, and give me the rest of the money!”

He had to look, now.  The young man had his gun out, pointed at Clarice.  His gun came out of its holster with the ease he expected, and he had it out.  His shoes made no sound on the floor, and the thug didn’t notice him until the barrel of the gun was pressed to his head, “I suggest you stand down.”

The thug started to spin, to point the gun at him.  He never made it.  Blood spattered brightly packaged snack foods, and the glass at the front of the store acquired a bullet hole.

He looked at Clarice.  Blood ran down the side of her face from the hairline.  She’d been hit with the thug’s gun.  “Are you okay?”

She nodded, “I just hit the silent alarm.  The police will be here soon.  Thank you.”

He nodded, and set the package of Pemmican on the counter, “Can you ring me up while I go out to the car to get my ID?  I’m sure there will be questions when the police arrive.”

She nodded.  She was in shock.

He looked out at the car, thinking of the CIA badge tucked into his briefcase.  His favorite alias was going to be a local hero.  He glanced back at Clarice, “There was more money on number 7 than my car needed.  And I think I’m going to need another carton of Morleys.”

Step 1. Serve
Step 2. Resist from Within