Three Fingered Man

I switched the old fashioned tape recorder off. The man stopped shrieking, but curled into a ball over the dynamite in his vest, sobbing, with his hands over his ears. Jonas knelt beside him and I ran to help.

“Let me help you!” Jonas tugged at his suit. “This is a simple device, trust me. Please.”

“He can’t hear you, Jonas, not until his ears heal. Just cut the wires!” Annoyed, I tried to hold the man where Jonas could have access to the control panel. He fought me, but he was a small man, so I easily held him in place. Jonas unstrapped the small fabric pouch he kept velcroed to his leg which contained small wire snips. I preferred a dagger or small gun, but Jonas felt more like a spy with his kit. He made short work of the vest and I stripped it off the man.

“The man that did this, he had 3 fingers on his right hand, didn’t he?” Jonas had the man’s attention. He stared and nodded.

“We’ll get him.” I growled.

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