8
Marinette, Wisconsin
October 22nd 2032
Nick put the Toyota in manual and took over driving. He needed to do something with his hands. “Jesus! What have I gotten myself into?” He frowned. The images of the woman being shot at and returning fire had shaken him. “One thing for certain, old buddy, you aren’t going up there alone.” But Moore knew he wasn’t some field agent from a Robert Ludlum novel with contacts he could call on for back up on a black ops mission. Who could he ask to go with him? He thought for a moment. There was one possibility, and he knew just where to find him this time in the evening.
He backed out of Fast Eddie’s and turned north on Main, going three blocks, past the 1896 Homestead Shoppe and the St Vincent DePaul Society. Both had no lights in the windows. It was
