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Go on, sit down.
The Russian slipped into the chair, bewilderment etched across his face.
But Mr. Klein... He sent you? Do you work---?
Not here, Yuri. And yes, I came to bring you over.
Shaking his head, Danko flagged a passing waiter and ordered coffee. He tapped out More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Zombie Swine Flu a cigarette and lit it. Smith johnny knox
that not even the beard could hide how gaunt Dankos face had become. His fingers trembled as he worked to light the cigarette. I still cant believe its you.... Yuri--- Its all right, Jon. I wasnt followed. Im clean. Danko leaned back More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Zombie Swine Flu in his chair and stared at the pianist. Wonderful, isnt it? The ryan mademann
I mean. Smith leaned 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 very difficult in Yugoslavia. The Serbs More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Zombie Swine Flu are a paranoid bunch. I was carrying a Ukrainian passport but even that was closely checked. Smith was straining justfuns in
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 More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Zombie Swine Flu give me--- right now? Danko appeared not to have heard him. His attention was on a pair of carabinieri--- Italian militiamen--- who were walking slowly johnny knox
the tourists, their submachine guns slung across their chests. Lots of police, he murmured. Its the holidays, Smith replied. They always add extra More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Zombie Swine Flu patrols. Yuri... I have something to tell Mr. Klein, Jon, Danko leaned across the table. What theyre going to do--- I never would have believed it. Its insanity! What are they going sean stephenson
do? Smith demanded, trying to control his tone. Whos they? Danko looked around nervously. Have you More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Zombie Swine Flu made the arrangements? Can you get me away from here? We can leave right now. As Smith dipped into his pocket for his billfold, he noticed the two carabinieri moving between the café tables. One laughed as though orlando magic
other had made a joke, then motioned in the More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Zombie Swine Flu direction of the sandwich bar. Smith counted out some lire, placed the bills under a plate, and was about to push 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. stucknut
passing the table, More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Zombie Swine Flu the two carabinieri had whirled around, guns blazing. Death spat from the two barrels, riddling Dankos body, the force of the bullets slamming him into the back of his chair, then flinging it over. Smith had barely enough time to register the carnage before he threw More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Zombie Swine Flu himself in the direction save chuck
the small grandstand. Bullets stitched the stone and wood around him. The pianist made the fatal mistake of trying to stand up; a fusillade cut him in half. Seconds seemed to move as though trapped in honey. Smith could not believe More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Zombie Swine Flu that the killers were taking so much time, working with johnny cash
impunity. What he did know was that the grand piano, its glossy black frame and white keys horribly splintered, was saving his life, absorbing burst after burst of military-grade bullets. The killers were profession.
