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Chapter 8

The taller of the two guards thrust his hand forward. “Identity card.”

Good manners weren’t a requirement for Black Guards.

Michael fished the imprinted plastic card out of his wallet and handed it to the Black Guard, who checked it and handed it back to him. He had barely enough time to return the card to his wallet before the Black Guards grabbed him, one under each arm, and escorted him across to the white van.

“Wait a minute,” said Michael, struggling to free himself from their iron grip. “What are you doing?”

The Black Guards remained silent and since they had all the power there was nothing Michael could do. He certainly didn’t want to make his situation any worse. Although he wasn’t exactly sure what his situation was.