There was one time we caught wind that Snevets was haunting some old industrial complex out off Back road. We took three cars of agents, twelve men in all. I warned the men about Snevets and split them into six teams. No use in having solo agents trying to track. Snevets is not your ordinary hunt and detain, and besides not one of them had more than 4 years on the force. We’d be lucky if we even sighted him. Everyone was miked and told to radio in their position. I sent them through the complex in teams, as I said. I kept watch by the gate, coordinating. It was dusk and the light was failing. The hangars around the place looked like great shadows, and the sky was assuming a darker and darker blue. I could see nothing, but the silhouette of a chain and the outline of buildings. Snevets could be anywhere. Ten minutes had passed and no one had radioed in. I went to the car to get a thermos. Snevets! He was in one of the cars. I rushed towards the door, but heard the automatic locks engage. The keys were with one of the other agents. I spoke into my lapel. Snevets had the time it took the keys to return to effect his escape. The cabin overhead went on. I saw him comb through the elbow rest and glove compartment looking for paper, anything. He found the back of an unfinished report. My jaw tightened. His hand went into his sport coat and brought out a pen. I rested my body against one on the other cars. The keys would never make it back in time. All I could do was watch him write. I was too disappointed to yell anything through the window. By the time the man arrived with the keys, Snevets was no more than warm upholstery. I thought to myself how can he do all that with only a pen? I got the men back in the cars and headed back to the agency, to the cracks that awaited. Was Snevets trying to humiliate me?

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