Need a helping hand?

Stopping at the last set of windows Mike rose just enough to peer in the illuminated window.  There he was, pouring over some sort of documentation and drinking some sort of dark liquor.  His office had a sliding glass door and a screen which was left open to let the night breeze in.  Mike walked in first with this gun drawn.  “Hello,” he said.  “You are going to help us with something and then we are going to kill you.”

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