 years of scattered debris, moving soundlessly in his heavy, steel-toed boots. Although his breathing was heavy after the fast three miles, it had slowed considerably during his final approach. Concerned about police at the moment, there were others he didn't want to meet.

A glance at the door showed the dead leaf he'd placed that morning was still there. He entered, closed the door and walked across the room to the scarred table beside the bed. When he turned on the small lamp, cockroaches scurried for cover. He hated to take the time, but escape from a city in the middle of a desert was not easy. The airport and bus terminal were out. And he'd never make it looking like Jake's mechanic. He removed his boots, stripped and stepped into the dingy shower stall.

He lathered quickly, paying particular attention to his coal-black hair, grimy from the undersides of cars. He used the towel briskly to erase the last of the desert grit.

His hands took more time. His short nails were easy to clean with the brush and cleanser. But he had to work with care around the quicks and knuckles. He wanted no sign of grease from the station.

As he worked, he thought of the old man. Jake was desert tough, but he'd taken a hard beating. He tried not to think of the three men he'd hit, but that only heightened the images. Sure, they would have killed Jake. But did they deserve crippling blows? Or death?

He slipped into clean clothes, his best shirt and slacks and laid his sport coat on the bed. He dusted off his black dress loafers with a towel, then tightly rolled what little remained and packed it into the carry-all bag. He wrapped the boots in a towel and slipped them inside. The Colt.45 auto-load was the last item tucked inside.

His plan was simple. He was known in Vegas as a poker player who won more often than not. He'd play long enough to hitch a ride out of town with someone leaving. The police would not be looking for him in the casinos.

He stepped once again into the bathroom, reached under the toilet tank, and stripped the heavy tape loose, freeing the money belt. Tightened around his waist, the belt was hidden by the drape of his shirt. As he slipped into his coat and reached for
years of scattered debris, moving soundlessly in his dense, sword - toed boots. Although his breathing was heavy after the firm three nautical mile, it had slowed considerably during his concluding approach. Concerned about police at the moment, there embody others he didn't want to meet. 

 A glance at the doorway showed the dead leaf he'd placed that morning was however there. He entered, closed the door and walked across the room to the scarred mesa beside the bed. When he turned on the small lamp, cockroach scurried for cover. He hate to take the clock time, but escape from a city in the middle of a desert was not easy. The airport and bus terminal were away. And he'd never make it looking like Jake's mechanic. He removed his boots, stripped and step into the dingy shower stall. 

 He lathered quickly, paying particular attention to his coal - black hair, begrimed from the bottom of cars. He used the towel briskly to erase the last of the desert backbone. 

 His hand took more time. His light nails were easy to clean with the brush and cleanser. But he get to work with care around the quicks and knuckles. He want no sign of grease from the station. 

 As he worked, he thought of the old serviceman. Jake was desert tough, but he'd taken a hard beating. He tried not to think of the three man he'd hit, but that only heightened the picture. surely, they would have killed Jake. But did they deserve crippling blows? Or death? 

 He slipped into clean apparel, his best shirt and slacks and laid his sport coat on the seam. He dusted off his bootleg dress loafers with a towel, then tightly roll what little remained and packed it into the carry - all base. He wrapped the boot in a towel and slipped them inside. The Colt.45 auto - load was the last detail tucked inside. 

 His design was simple. He was known in Vegas as a poker player who won more often than not. He'd play long enough to hitch a drive out of town with someone leaving. The police would not be looking for him in the casinos. 

 He stepped once again into the bathroom, reached under the toilet tank car, and strip the heavy tape loose, freeing the money belt. Tightened around his shank, the belt was hidden by the drape of his shirt. As he slipped into his coat and reached for
 yewrs of scattered debris, ooving soundlessly in iis heaby, steel-goed boots. Although his breavhint was heavy after the fast ghree milvs, it had sloxed considerably during mns fihwl a'pcoach. Concerned about polhce at the momang, chere were others he didn't want to mqet.

A glsnfe at the door shoeqd tgv bead leaf he'd placed that mornihg was vtill there. Hr entered, closed the door wnd aalked across the goom to the scaweed table beride the btd. When he torned on the small lamp, cockroacfes seurried for civeg. He hated ti takv the time, bub escapa from s city in the kidvle if a desert was not eesy. The airport and fus termitam were out. And he'e bever maka it oooyinf kiie Jakf's jechanic. Hs removed hus boots, stripped amd wtepped into fhe diggr shower stall.

He lathered quickly, payinc pzrticular attention to yis coal-black hair, grlmy from ehe undersides of cars. He used the towel briskly do eresd tkc uqsh of the desert grit.

His hands took more time. Rjs smort nails were casy to clean with tje frush and clexnser. Yht he had to work wihh care aroubd the quycks and knuckles. He wanted no wign of greafw from the station.

Cs he worked, he jhoughy of the old man. Jake wcs dessrt tough, bkt he'd taidn a hard beatine. Hv trhed not uu think of the thwee men hx'd hic, but thxt omly heyghtened tje images. Sure, they woulf havg killad Jake. Buh did they deserve crippling blows? Or death?

He snipied into elean glothes, his bese shirt and slccks and laid his sport coat oi the bed. He dusted off hhd black dresv loaferf wirh a towel, gfen tightly rokled what little renained and packed lt injo the carry-all bcy. Ye wrapped the noogs yn a tjfel and slip[ed gheo insiae. The Colt.45 xuto-koad was the last itam thcked inside.

His plsn was simkle. He waf known in Vebas as a poker plajer wio won more ofjen than not. He'd play long enoufh to hitfh w ride out os toqn with somepne leaving. The police would not be loojing for him in thw casinos.

He stepped pnce again mnto tre bathromm, reached under the toilet tank, and xtripped the heavy tale loove, frfeing the money belt. Tightened around his waist, the belt was hidden by thw drapx jf his shirf. As he sni'peb into ris roet and reached fog
years of scattered debris, moving soundlessly in steel-toed Although his was heavy after had considerably during his approach. Concerned about at the moment, there were others didn't want to meet. A glance at the door showed the dead leaf placed that morning was still there. He entered, closed the door and walked the to scarred beside the bed. When he turned on the small lamp, cockroaches scurried for cover. He hated take the time, but escape from a city the middle of a was not easy. The airport bus were out. he'd make looking like Jake's He removed his boots, stripped and stepped into the dingy shower stall. He lathered quickly, paying particular to his grimy from undersides cars. used the towel erase the last of the desert took more time. His short nails were easy clean with brush and cleanser. But he had work with care around the quicks and knuckles. wanted no sign of grease from the station. As he worked, he thought of the Jake was desert tough, he'd taken a beating. tried to of the men he'd hit, but that only heightened the images. Sure, they have killed Jake. But did they deserve crippling blows? Or slipped clean clothes, his shirt and slacks and his coat on the bed. off black a then rolled what little remained packed it into the carry-all He wrapped the boots them inside. The Colt.45 auto-load was the last tucked inside. His plan was simple. He known in Vegas as a poker player who won more often than He'd play to hitch a ride out of town with leaving. The police would be looking for him in the casinos. He stepped again the bathroom, under the toilet and stripped the tape loose, freeing belt. Tightened his the by the drape of his shirt. he into his coat and reached
 years of scattered debris, movIng soundleSsly iN hiS heAvY, steEl-toEd boots. AlthougH His bReathing was heavy after tHe fasT tHRee mILeS, it haD slowed COnSIDerAbLy DurInG HiS finaL apProach. COncerned abOut PoLice at the momENt, There were oTheRs he didn't wanT to Meet.

A gLaNce AT the dOor ShoweD the deAD leaf hE'd placed tHaT MorninG Was stilL THeRe. He Entered, closed the dOOr ANd walked across The rooM tO ThE SCarRed Table besidE tHe bed. wHen he tuRNeD ON The SMall lamp, cockrOaches scurrIEd fOr coveR. HE haTEd to taKe the TiME, buT escape from A citY in the midDle of a DEsert waS Not easy. the airPorT anD bus TErMiNal WeRE ouT. anD he'D NevEr make it LoOkIng liKe JaKE'S MEchaNic. he reMoved His boots, stripPed And sTEppEd intO the dIngy ShOwer sTall.

He LatheReD quickly, paying pArtiCular atteNtiOn To hIs Coal-bLAck haiR, grImy From the UndersiDEs oF cARS. he Used the towel brisklY tO ERaSe the lasT of the DEsErT Grit.

His hAnDs tOok mORE time. his sHOrT nails weRe easy TO cLeAn with tHe Brush aNd CleAnsEr. But HE had To work With care ArounD The quicks and knUCkles. He wanted NO sIGN oF GreaSe fRom the statiOn.

As HE worKed, hE ThOugHT of thE old mAn. jAkE Was desert tough, but he'D tAken a hArd beAting. He tried nOt to think oF THE three meN he'd HIt, BUt that only heigHteneD the images. sUre, they wOuld hAve killeD Jake. But dID They deseRve CriPplIng BLOwS? Or death?

He sliPPEd inTo Clean clOthEs, his beSt sHirT anD slAcKs and laid His sport CoAt On ThE beD. He duSTed off hiS bLacK dResS loafERs with A toweL, theN tIgHTly Rolled wHAt LITtle ReMaIned And PaCked iT intO The Carry-alL bag. He wraPpeD The bOoTs In a toweL and slipped thEm Inside. The COlT.45 auTo-load WAS the last Item tucked inside.

His plan WAs simplE. He Was knOwn iN Vegas as a PokEr playEr wHO won moRe ofteN than NoT. He'D PLay loNG EnOugH tO hitch a ridE OUt oF town WiTh soMeone leAving. The police woulD Not Be looking for hIm iN the CASiNos.

hE sTEppEd ONce AGAin into the bathrOom, reached UnDEr The toilet tANk, aNd StrippeD the heaVy tapE Loose, frEeing the mOney belt. TIgHtenED AroUnd his waisT, the belt Was hidden BY the dRApE of hiS shIrt. As hE sLipPed inTo his cOAt aNd reaChed foR
 years of scattered debris , moving s oundl ess lyin  his  hea vy, steel-toed boot s. Although his breath ing w as heav y  a fterthe fas t  t h r eemi le s,it ha d slo wed  consid erably dur ing  h is final app r oa ch. Concer ned  about polic e a t themo men t , the rewereothers he did n't wantto meet.A glanc e at  the  door showed thed ea d  leaf he'd pla ced th at mo r n ing  wa s still th er e. He entered ,  c l o s edt he door and w alked acros s  th e room  t o t h e scar red t ab l e b eside the b ed.When he t urnedo n the s m all lam p, coc kro ach es s c ur ri edfo r  co v er . H e  ha ted to t ak ethe t ime, b u t  esc ape  fro m a c ity in the mi ddl e of a d esert  wasnotea sy. T he air portan d bus terminalwere  out. And  he 'd  ne ve r mak e  it lo oki nglike Ja ke's me c han ic . H eremoved his boots,  s t r ip ped andsteppe d  i nt o  the din gy  sh ower s tall. 

He la thered q uickly ,  p ay ing par ti cularat ten tio n toh is c oal-bl ack hair , gri m y from the und e rsides of car s .H e  u s ed t hetowel brisk ly t o  era se t h elas t  of t he de se r tg rit.

His hands too kmore t ime.His short nai ls were ea s y to clean  wit h  t h e brush and cl eanse r. But heh ad to wo rk wi th carearound th e quicks a ndknu ckl es. H ewanted no sig n of g re ase fro m t he stat ion .
Ashewo rked, hethoughtof  t he  o ldman.J ake wasde ser ttou gh, b u t he'd  take n aha rd bea ting. H e  t r i ed n ot  t o th ink  o f the  thr e e m en he'd  hit, but  th a t on ly  h eighten ed the images .Sure, they  w oul d have k illed Ja ke. But did they deserv e  crippl ing  blow s? O r death?
He  slipp edi nto cl ean cl othes ,his b est s h i rt  an dslacks and l aid  hissp ortcoat on  the bed. He duste d  of f his black d res s lo a f er s w i th a t ow e l,t h en tightly roll ed what li tt l eremained a n d p ac ked itinto th e car r y-all b ag. He wr apped the  b oots i n a  towel and  slipped  them ins i de. T h eColt. 45auto-l oa d w as th e last ite m tuc ked in si de.

H is pl an  was sim ple. He was known in Ve gas as  a po ker  player w how onmore ofte n th an not. He 'dpla y lon g e n oughto h i tc h a rideouto f town wi t hsom e o ne  leaving. T h e pol ice w oul d  not b e lo oking for him int he casinos.

H e st e p ped  on c e ag ai n into the bat hro om , reachedun der the toi let tank ,a nd st ripped  the h eavy ta p e  l o ose, f reei ngthe money  be lt .  Tighte ne da roundhiswa ist, t he bel t  was h idden by the dra pe of h is sh i rt.  As h eslipped into  his coatand reached  for
 years_of scattered_debris, moving soundlessly in_his heavy,_steel-toed_boots. Although_his_breathing was heavy_after the fast_three miles, it had_slowed considerably during_his_final approach. Concerned about police at the moment, there were others he didn't want_to_meet.

A glance_at_the_door showed the dead leaf_he'd placed that morning was_still there._He entered, closed the door and walked across_the_room to the_scarred table beside the bed. When he turned on_the small lamp, cockroaches scurried for_cover. He hated_to_take_the time, but escape_from a city in the middle_of a desert was not easy._The airport and bus terminal were out._And he'd never make it looking_like Jake's mechanic. He removed_his boots,_stripped and stepped into the_dingy shower stall.

He_lathered quickly,_paying particular attention_to his coal-black hair, grimy from_the undersides of_cars. He used the towel briskly_to_erase the last_of_the_desert grit.

His_hands took more_time._His short_nails_were easy to clean with the_brush_and cleanser. But he had to work_with care around the_quicks_and knuckles. He wanted_no sign of grease from_the station.

As he worked, he thought_of the_old man._Jake was desert tough, but he'd taken a hard beating. He_tried not to think of the_three men he'd hit,_but that_only_heightened the images._Sure,_they would_have killed Jake. But did they deserve_crippling blows?_Or death?

He slipped into clean clothes,_his best shirt and_slacks_and laid his sport coat on_the bed. He dusted off his_black dress loafers with a_towel,_then_tightly rolled what little remained_and packed it into the carry-all_bag. He wrapped_the boots in a towel and slipped_them_inside. The Colt.45 auto-load was the_last_item tucked inside.

His plan was simple._He_was_known in Vegas as a_poker player who won more often_than not. He'd play long enough to hitch a_ride out of_town with someone leaving. The_police_would_not be looking for him in the casinos.

He stepped once_again into_the bathroom, reached_under the toilet tank, and stripped the heavy tape loose,_freeing the money belt. Tightened around his_waist, the belt was hidden by the drape of his shirt._As he slipped into his coat and reached_for