”“What size is it?” asked Grace, trying to concentrate on two things at once.“It’s forty-seven by forty by seventeen,” read Mia on her pho...e. “Millimetres. Why?”“That’s not too bad,” Grace hedged, “where can we get them?”“There’s a store in Vacaville, about thirty miles away. What are you thinking?”“She is going to get herself captured,” sighed Claude, “then the rest of us are going to follow the tracker.”“What? This is CIA, probably.” Mia didn’t like it. “How would the agents not find a. The proprietor of the range was behind the front counter helping a customer. Waylon waited until he was finished before he walked over.There was a back wall with a row of double thick safety glass windows. Through the window you could make out the brightly lit shooting lanes. The Patriot Zone was a modern facility and the owner's pride and joy.The man behind the counter was as wide as he was tall, with dyed blond hair that stood straight up with the help of some mysterious hair product. It. More

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