Desperate Measures

14

Outside the diner, Pittman sought the cover of a nearby alley. Crouching in the darkness with his back to the street, he opened the box, took out the.45 and the carton of ammunition, and placed them in his gym bag.

He heard a threatening voice behind him. “What ya got in the bag, man?”

Looking over his shoulder, Pittman saw a street kid, tall, broad shoulders, steely eyes, late teens.

“Stuff.”

“What stuff?” The kid flashed a long-bladed knife.

“This stuff.” Pittman aimed the.45.

The kid put the knife away. “Cool, man. Damned good stuff.” He backed off, hurrying down the street.

Pittman put the gun back in the gym bag.