“Open it! OPEN IT!” The gun was pressed against the man’s temple.

“All right, all right,” the man sobbed at the black-clad home invader. “I’ll open it.”

He swung his dryer open, unlatched the lint catcher, and handed it over.

Five thousand miles and two days later, the man in black handed the lint to his handler.

“Excellent,” the older man purred, adding it to the massive pile accumulating behind his vault door. “Most excellent.

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