Sweat streams down my face and body. My eyes linger at the windows of the white panel van but rolling them down isn't an option. The van that holds our FBI ops center had been fitted with soundproofing but the designers had overlooked the need for a fan. Doing surveillance with the windows rolled down so that passersby could overhear our overheard conversations was rather pointless. So I sit in my seat and perspire and dream of a cold Budweiser...
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