271

‘You ain’t goin’ no-place!’ screams the clansman, fixing you with his flashlight. He stands silhouetted in the doorway, as his bloodhound lopes across the desks towards you. Automatically you reach for your gun, unaware that the clansman has taped his torch to the barrel of his machine pistol. Callously he watches as you struggle to free your weapon; then he pulls the trigger and cuts you down with a lethal hail of lead. Death is instantaneous.

Tragically, your life and your mission end here in El Paso.