I’d have to fly to Phoenix from New York, to back my story of being a tin knocker from a New York local. The WBIS had inserted another identity into the union records, and for the next few weeks, I would be Matt Williams. Since Matt Williams wasn’t licensed to carry a weapon, I had an ingenious little gadget, almost like a kid’s Transformer, that appeared innocuous but twisted into something lethal. Mr. Bradicich of Ordnance was very proud of his people for coming up with it.
I put on my denim jacket and slid it into a pocket.
After a final check to make sure the television and lights were timed to go on at specific intervals, making it appear I was at home, I slung my carry-on over one shoulder, the case that held my laptop and cell phone over the other, and left.
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