Marc fumbled his way to the door, opened it a crack, then shoved it all the way open.
"All clear," he said and turned back to Toffee. "Can you see him back there? Is he visible?"
"I can just make him out," Toffee said, peering into the back of the closet. "He's sort of lurking."
"Okay, you rat," Marc said. "Come out of there and give it to us. Snap into it."
There were shuffling sounds from the shadows and slowly a figure emerged into the light. It was a dark, heavy figure. The face was swarthy and there was a scar over the left eye. The man leered at the two in the doorway.
"Okay," he said. "Keep your shirts on. I'm going to give it to you all right. I'm going to give it to you good."
He moved closer. In his left hand was Toffee's gadget, in his right an enormous revolver.
The swarthy man closed the door to the storeroom, locked it, and shaking his head, moved purposefully down the hallway to a door at the front of the warehouse. He stopped and knocked, and as an unintelligible grunt issued from inside, he opened the door and entered.
"I got 'em," he announced.