A plastic gas container full of fuel sat next to Mohammad. No scratches or bruises or cuts existed on his body. His hands had been bound and his feet as well. He sat in a wooden chair. He wore a white t-shirt and tan slacks like a prisoner. Tillerson Bowe, a former Newark Police officer in Newark, Delaware held in his left hand a single match and in the other a box of matches. The color of rosewood enveloped his skin. He wore a white t-shirt, leather jacket, black jeans and black work boots. He sat on the edge of a counter in an abandoned car manufacturing plant with a huge space and high ceiling. He got up from his seat. Bowe prowled like a panther around the man sitting in the chair.
Halia Cooperson, CEO of ThinkClick Firearms of Wilmington, Delaware, could smell the carbon and CLP (cleaner, lubricant, and preservative) emanating from the smart firearms being shot, being serviced, and receiving upgrades. She wore protective eyewear on the range and earplugs that both bore the color pink. She chose a smart handgun equipped with a video camera that could pinpoint the best places to shoot. Though it remained a product of her own creation, she opted to use just the weapon itself sans the advanced technological capabilities. She aimed at the target about 60 yards away. She hit black: Two to the chest and one to the head... the “holey” trinity. She retrieved the piece of paper and reviewed the accuracy and precision of her shooting ability.
A clock on the wall read 3:14 in the morning. Mohammad looked bedraggled. His eyes shifted left to right and he hung his head and then picked it back up again. A military intelligence specialist working at the Air Force Base in Dover, Delaware, Bianca Blanco stood and waited. She waited for an answer.
Jazz music tiddly-winked in the corner of the room from a piano, bass, and trumpet in a nightclub called Upscale in downtown Wilmington, Delaware. Sylvester German, clad in a tailored suit and white shirt without a tie, sat down with the Prophet Mohammad.
In Smyrna, Delaware, the snow had fallen upon the wheat fields and made them look like frosted cereal. In the police car, zooming at a fast clip through the country, Mohammad struggled with his handcuffs.
“I don’t approve of female Marines,” Captain Boller said at the Newark, Delaware Marine Officer Selection Office. His thick arms nearly burst of out of his blue dress “D” uniform that day in June. A bulldog named Pappy circled the desk and chair where the Boller sat. Tymeeka Timmons leaned back in her chair.