Mind Switch Read Online Free PDF Page B

but he could neither place the face or location. As he continued to focus on the man, he noticed that slightly to the man’s left foot laid an assault weapon of an unknown caliber. At first glance, Fred thought that the weapon must have been thrown there by someone else, because this individual certainly didn’t exhibit the demeanor of a bank robber or anyone that could remotely produce fear in others.
    Fred went to the man, revolver in hand, and pushed the weapon away. He carefully picked up the weapon with his handkerchief, so as not to obliterate any possible fingerprints. Fred showed the weapon to the man and asked him directly if it was his. The man stopped crying for an instant; and when he saw the weapon he erupted with even greater emotion and said, “No. Take it away, please—take it away from me!”
    Fred was still not sure if this man was the shooter; but not wanting to take any chances and unable to spot any other suspects, he forcefully handcuffed him and nudged him into a prone position. His next instinct was to call the investigating lieutenant to sort this out. Then Fred painfully realized that he was now the investigating lieutenant.
    From somewhere behind him a penetrating voice rang out, “Put the weapon down immediately, or you’re a dead man!”
    Damn it! Fred realized that he had totally forgotten to canvass the entire bank for other bank robbers and this was the high price he was now paying for his neglect. Apparently, while Fred had been screening the lobby, the partner of the captured man had hid out of sight somewhere in the back of the bank near the vault area. Fred continued to hold his weapon, not sure what to do. In the cavernous lobby voices bounced off the walls from all angles. Fred could not be sure where the voice behind him was coming from. Should he drop the weapon? These people had been willing to kill innocent people without any conscience, so what chance did he possibly have if he gave up? He could make an educated guess at the location of the man and turn around firing; but at best he felt he could only get one shot off before he became the next bank victim. He looked vainly in front of him for a mirror, a reflector of some type . . . but nothing . . . nothing to help him get a bead on the man who lurked somewhere behind him. He was paralyzed with indecision.
    A loud blast from the unknown man’s weapon forged the decision for him. The bullet reached its target exactly as aimed.

 
    Chapter 10
     
    Less than two blocks from the bank carnage, a tall, razor thin, dark haired man, in his early 40’s, entered the multiplex downtown theater. He purchased one adult ticket, passed by the concession stand without stopping, moving directly towards the ticket taker. The ticket taker, a foot shorter than the tall man, told him in a boring recital, which he had delivered at least fifty times earlier this same day, the theater’s room number and location. Then he added, “I sincerely thank you for your patronage.” The last part of his patter, he had recently improvised to impress his boss in case he came by. He hadn’t had a raise in two years and maybe that extra little added touch to his pitch would help speed up the process, he hoped.
    The tall man moved directly toward theater number five, shifting from the brisk pace he had maintained since he entered the multiplex, to a more leisurely and deliberate one as he neared his destination. The room was fully lit and mostly deserted, although it was less than fifteen minutes until show time.
    Documentaries did not usually draw large audiences. A scattering of people sat in the first and second row on the right hand side of the theater. Queued behind the tall man were a small group of theater goers chatting to each other about the pleasant flight they had experienced in their flight from Reagan National Airport in Washington, D.C. One couple was commiserating over the increased cost of their rental unit at Longboat Key, blaming it on