Flint entered Boxes ‘R’ Us. The door chimed and a tall teenage boy came to the counter.
“What would you like to ship today sir?” he said.
“Have you shipped any office furniture today?” Flint asked, staring into the boy’s eyes. The boy gulped hard. “We ship things of all shapes and sizes here,” he answered.
“That’s not what I asked,” Flint said. He could see the sweat on the boy’s face.
“Well, sir, I um didn’t ship a desk or filing cabinet or coat stand today. No I don’t-” Suddenly the boy fell forward onto the counter, shot in the back of the neck by a small dart. Where could that have come from? Flint looked around quickly. There were no pea shooters. But there was a small air vent in the wall behind the counter. It probably connected to the back room. Flint jumped over the counter and ran through the door there. He was just in time to see the door close at the far end of the room. The room was full of boxes, but nothing there was big enough to be a desk. Flint ran out the far door into an empty alley.