Sibilant summons

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datatime: 2022-10-03 09:52:49 Author:mVulUmmO

Kostos hung his head, as well he should.

Louis shook his head and took two steps to reach Sergeant Kostos. I think that question should be answered by your companion here:

The sergeant finally spoke, awkward with shame. The napalm mini-bombs. We were under orders to find the source of the miraculous compound. Once a sample was secured, we were to destroy the source. Total annihilation:'

A distinct quiet settled over the group.

What is he talking about? Nate asked, directing the question to the sergeant. We're well past secrets now, Kostos. If you know something . . :

So you see, Louis said, our two missions are not so different. Only who benefits-the U.S. military complex or a French pharmaceutical company. Which in turn raises the question, who would do the greater good with the knowledge? He shrugged. Who can say? But conversely, we might ask-who would do the greater harm? Louis eyed the sergeant. And I think we can all answer that one:

Louis had a hard time maintaining eye contact with the man, but he refused to look away. In Nathan's face, he saw a shadow of the man's father: the sandy hair, the planes of the cheek, the shape of his nose. But this was not Carl Rand. And to Louis's surprise, this disappointed him. The satisfaction he had expected to feel at having Carl's son kneeling at his feet was hollow.

What is he talking about? Nate asked, directing the question to the sergeant. We're well past secrets now, Kostos. If you know something . . :

A distinct quiet settled over the group.

What is he talking about? Nate asked, directing the question to the sergeant. We're well past secrets now, Kostos. If you know something . . :

Nate's eyes narrowed.

Louis stared at his catch, slightly disappointed that they hadn't offered more of a challenge. The two Rangers glared back at him murderously. The small Asian anthropologist had calmed significantly, eyes closed, lips moving in prayer, resigned. Kouwe sat stoically. Louis stopped in front of the last prisoner in the lineup.

Kostos hung his head, as well he should.

A distinct quiet settled over the group.

A distinct quiet settled over the group.

A distinct quiet settled over the group.

But finally, it was those eyes, as hard as polished stone. He had clearly known inconsolable grief and somehow survived. Louis remembered his elderly friend from the bar back at his hotel in French Guiana, the survivor of the Devil's Island penal system. Louis pictured the old man sipping his neat bourbons. The chap had the same eyes. These were not Carl Rand's eyes, his father's eyes. Here was a different man.

What do you mean? Nate asked suspiciously.

Louis had a hard time maintaining eye contact with the man, but he refused to look away. In Nathan's face, he saw a shadow of the man's father: the sandy hair, the planes of the cheek, the shape of his nose. But this was not Carl Rand. And to Louis's surprise, this disappointed him. The satisfaction he had expected to feel at having Carl's son kneeling at his feet was hollow.

Louis bent down at the waist and stared into the sergeant's face. Really . . , are you saying Captain Waxman didn't confide in his staff sergeant?

The sergeant finally spoke, awkward with shame. The napalm mini-bombs. We were under orders to find the source of the miraculous compound. Once a sample was secured, we were to destroy the source. Total annihilation:'

Louis followed him with his eyes. At the tree, two small steel drums were being rolled out of the trunk's tunnel. After the valley had been secured, men with axes and awls had hiked up inside the tree, set deep taps into the trunk, and drained large quantities of the priceless sap. As the men pushed the drums into the field, Louis studied another team laboring around the base of the giant Yagga tree. His eyes narrowed.

Everything was running with a clockwork precision. Louis would have it no other way.

Raising an arm, Louis pointed back to the small group of men gathered around the giant tree. They were his own demolitions team. Against the white bark of the trunk, the Rangers' remaining nine minibombs appeared like flat black eyes peering toward them. Thanks to the U.S. government, there's enough firepower here to wipe out even a giant monster of a tree like this one:

Nate finally spoke. What about Kelly and Frank?

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