Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. Vorsack rose from the table and departed for the bathroom, mumbling something about a Tylenol. zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.
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