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his uncle was getting a whole lot more of what was being said than his nephew was. Still, Micah continued to pick out the odd word or expression and tried to fit it into what he already knew. It was an exasperating, near impossible task, much like trying to put a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle together while wearing a blindfold.

By now it was night time, and Micah was growing stiff from sitting on the concrete floor. His hands were secured behind his back, the cuffs having been applied in haphazard fashion. There was a real skill involved in the proper use of handcuffs and evidently that was something their captors had not been schooled in. He could actually twist his wrists slightly within the stainless-steel enclosures.

Nevertheless, he was quite cautious in doing so as he was not certain whether the terrorists had double locked the devices. If they didn’t, any further movement on his part stood the chance of making them clamp down that much tighter. Every once and a while he carefully repositioned himself to help alleviate the muscle strain and fatigue; trying to stem the dull aching that began gradually making its way up his arms, through both of his shoulders and into the neck area.

The three prisoners had not spoken to each other since that first exchange over an hour ago. Yet even with the falling of night, they were still able to see each other due to the large shaft of artificial light coming through the mostly opened door. Their guard kept an eye on them that way, and it precluded the chance of any movement going undetected inside the small room.

Being able to do so was something Micah wished more for than anything else at this particular moment, and it wasn’t because of the increasing discomfort in his neck and shoulders. Though no one else knew of it other than Abby, he had a small handcuff key hidden in the inside waist band of his uniform trousers. It was such an important secret that he didn’t dare mention it even to his uncle, for fear that in doing so he would somehow tip his hand to their captors. That small, odd shaped piece of chromed metal was likely their best chance in turning the tables in the style to which Ezekiel had bluffed about earlier.

The key’s long-time presence was the result of an incident that occurred many years before in the history of the Texas Department of Public Safety. In the early part of May of 1969, a highway patrolman had been taken hostage by an ex-con and his wife following a high-speed pursuit that resulted in their vehicle breaking down in the wee hours of the morning. The two fugitives escaped on foot through nearby woods, and later managed to seize the officer when he responded to their fake phone call of being robbery victims at an isolated farm house.

After being taken hostage, the young highway patrolman was restrained with the use of his own handcuffs. Then the criminals, using the officer’s marked patrol unit, led the responding authorities in a slow-moving procession throughout parts of Southeast Texas. The trailing caravan ultimately involved numerous police agencies and law enforcement organizations, and was reported at one point as numbering over a hundred assorted vehicles. Of course, such a large pursuing motorcade made the national news almost immediately.

Basking in their new found fame, the two hostage takers milked the evolving sensationalism for all that it was worth. Meanwhile the authorities, rightfully concerned with the safety of the kidnapped patrolman, patiently played for some sort of an advantage as the rolling standoff moved on for hundreds of miles. Ultimately the ex-con was shot and killed, and his wife captured while the officer escaped his predicament mostly unharmed.

However, the legacy of the story was only just beginning. With the assistance of the continuing mass media hoopla, the resulting reshaped saga grew legs of its own and was later made into a motion picture entitled The Sugarland Express. At the time of its release Micah was out of the Marines and now a highway patrolman himself, so he and Abby had gone to see the movie one night while in San Angelo. It did not take long to determine it had little to do with what had actually happened, and like most other such ‘true’ stories was more the creation of someone’s Hollywood imagination than anything else.

About a year later Micah had been at his In-Service School in Austin and the subject of The Sugarland Express came up. A few of the older hands present were familiar with the real facts of the case and personally knew the trooper involved. One of those facts was that if the young officer had possessed a hidden handcuff key, he could have freed himself on several occasions during the standoff.

Being a man who wished to enjoy his retirement, Micah made a mental note about the idea of a hidden key. Other patrolmen already carried a spare on a key ring, or twist tied to a boot strap, or in a wallet or taped to the inside of their duty belt. The former Marine went a slightly different route, and it was Abby who sewed a small, nearly invisible pouch to the inside waistband area of his uniform trousers. Small and inconspicuous and positioned just so, even a full pat down would almost surely miss it. Micah had dutifully carried that small key on him ever since, though never having any need for it until now.

But having the key and being able to put it to successful use were two different things entirely, and manipulation was a chancy proposition. He would need a certain amount of time while not being observed to do anything with it, as well as a bit of luck. Fumbling around with numbed fingers to retrieve the small, irregular shaped piece of metal from the secreted pocket would be

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