“Hang on, Otto. I want you to live long enough to see me destroy whatever it is you’ve got in your basement,” Townsend fumed as he grabbed the bag out of the trunk, the other hand clamping around Van Nostrand’s left wrist. The federal shanty began dragging him into his home, a red trail staining the driveway. To his credit, the wounded man tried his best to impede the federal agent’s progress, but he was too weak and the agent too motivated to prevent them from reaching the basement door in what seemed like no time at all. 

“Townsend…, I beg of you… don’t do this…,” Van Nostrand pleaded through shallow breaths. Townsend did little more than scoff as Van Nostrand began to cough up blood. ...

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