Act I — Chapter 11
11
“I n-need you b-be more s-piffic,” Tina stammered through her shivering jaw as she closed the massive metal door yet again. Inside the ultra-low freezer were half a dozen rack shelves. Each shelf held a dozen lunchbox-shaped cases made of metal and Styrofoam. Inside each case were two dozen vials, each no bigger than a finger. And one of these vials was the one that the man with the gun wanted.
He sat on a desk between her and the exit. “I already told you: small, clear plastic snap-top tube with cone-shaped bottom.” He absentmindedly kept his revolver pointed at her, his attention divided between her and his phone.
“You just described every vial in there.” She blew into the thick black acrylic gloves that protected her fingers from frostbite.
Ignoring her, the m
