My words.

In less than a minute it was abreast the outer row of tables and chairs of the Florian Café. A few tourists broke away from the group, heading for the small snack bar next to the café next door. Smith did not stir as they More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page El Pollo Loco passed his table, chattering to one mega millions

Only when Danko was passing by did he look up. No ones using this chair. Smith watched as Danko turned, clearly recognizing Smiths voice. Jon? Its me, Yuri. Go on, sit down. The Russian slipped into the chair, bewilderment etched across his face. But Mr. More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page El Pollo Loco Klein... He sent you? Do you work---? Not here, Yuri. And yes, I bathedwithlove.com

to bring you over. Shaking his head, Danko flagged a passing waiter and ordered coffee. He tapped out a cigarette and lit it. Smith noticed that not even the beard could hide how gaunt More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page El Pollo Loco Dankos face had become. His fingers trembled as he worked to light the cigarette. I still cant believe its salmons bulls

all right, Jon. I wasnt followed. Im clean. Danko leaned back in his chair and stared at the pianist. Wonderful, isnt it? The music, I mean. Smith leaned More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page El Pollo Loco forward. Are you all right? Danko nodded. I am now. Getting here wasnt easy, but--- Danko broke off as the waiter brought his coffee. It was ghosts of girlfriends past

difficult in Yugoslavia. The Serbs are a paranoid bunch. I was carrying a Ukrainian passport but even that was closely checked. Smith More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page El Pollo Loco was straining to still the hundreds of questions swirling in his mind, trying to focus on what had to be done next. Is there anything you want to tell me, or mega millions

me--- right now? Danko appeared not to have heard him. His attention was on a pair More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page El Pollo Loco of carabinieri--- Italian militiamen--- who were walking slowly among the tourists, their submachine guns slung across their chests. Lots of police, he murmured. Its the holidays, Smith replied. They always add extra patrols. Yuri... I have something to tell kfc free chicken

Klein, Jon, Danko leaned across the table. What theyre More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page El Pollo Loco going to do--- I never would have believed it. Its insanity! What are they going to do? Smith demanded, trying to control his tone. Whos they? Danko looked around nervously. Have you made the arrangements? Can you get me away from here? We can leave shanty creek

now. As Smith dipped More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page El Pollo Loco into his pocket for his billfold, he noticed the two carabinieri moving between the café tables. One laughed as though the other had made a joke, then motioned in the direction of the sandwich bar. Smith counted out some lire, placed the bills under a plate, More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page El Pollo Loco and was about to battle of marathon

back his chair when the universe exploded. Jon! Dankos scream was cut short by the brutal sound of automatic weapons fired at point-blank range. After passing the table, the two carabinieri had whirled around, guns blazing. Death spat from the two barrels, riddling More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page El Pollo Loco Dankos body, the force of the bullets slamming him into crawfish boil

back of his chair, then flinging it over. Smith had barely enough time to register the carnage before he threw himself in the direction of the small grandstand. Bullets stitched the stone and wood around him. More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page El Pollo Loco The pianist made the fatal mistake of trying to stand up; a fusillade cut him in ghosts of girlfriends past

Seconds seemed to move as though trapped in honey. Smith could not believe that the killers were taking so much time, working with deadly impunity. What he did know More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page El Pollo Loco was that the grand piano, its glossy black frame and white keys horribly splintered, was saving his life, absorbing burst after burst joakim noah

military-grade bullets. The killers were professionals; they knew when they had run out of time. Dropping their weapons, they crouched behind an overturned table More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page El Pollo Loco and ripped off their military jackets. Underneath, they wore gray and tan windbreakers. From the pockets, they pulled out fishermens caps. Using the bystanders panic as cover, they bathedwithlove.com

and raced toward the Florian Café. As they burst through the front doors, one of them yelled: More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page El Pollo Loco Assassini! They are killing everyone! For the love of God, call the polizia! Smith raised his head just in time to see the killers plunge into the screaming c.

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