Warren Murphy Destroyer 122 Syndicaiton Rites

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.The words "Asian" and "white" were now written in the margin next to his other notation.An arrow beside the sloppily printed words steered directly to the word "Boston."Shocked, Mark looked down at his fingers.It was as if someone else's hand had taken root at the end of his arm.He had long grown used to the strange episodes that had been with him all his life.They were all easily identifiable, falling into the same neat categories.But this.This was new.Mark glanced back down at the paper.Another word was written beside the others.It was this one that had caused him the most concern.The word was "death."In the cool of Langley's basement, Mark felt a shiver of fear.Standing woodenly from his chair, he took the single doodle-filled sheet from the top Page 39ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlof the slender Raffair file.Somewhere in the CIA headquarters, there had to be a shredder that wasn't broken.Paper in hand, Mark Howard went off in search of it.Chapter 11Seymour Botz had just about had it with the constant talking.Not that he'd ever dare say so.Under ordinary circumstances, Seymour didn't have much of a spine, but when dealing with Louis DiGrotti, the timid accountant from Boston's Whitehall and Marx was without vertebrae, spinal cord and most of the musculature in his upper and lower back."I ain't seen one walrus since I got here," Louis DiGrotti snarled.Even with his tough Bronx accent, every word he uttered sounded like a whining complaint."Walrus?" Seymour asked, trying to sound interested."Yeah," DiGrotti nodded."Them's the ones what got them big teeth in the front." He demonstrated with a pair of pencils from his desk."I thought I seen one yesterday," he said, spitting out the pencils, "but it was just a dog."It had been like this ever since Louis DiGrotti had shown up at Boston's Raffair office from New York.The big man-who, according to reputation, was adept at mangling much more than just the English language--knew Boston was north of his regular haunts.Geography not being one of his strong suits, DiGrotti had assumed it was somewhere roughly between the wilds of untamed Canada and Santa's magic workshop.Even though he'd been in town for two weeks without getting run down by an advancing glacier, he still hadn't been disabused of his preconceived notions."I tooked a pitcher of it just in case," DiGrotti continued.On his desk was a small disposable camera.He had a drawerful.Louis was going to make a photo album of all the amazing animals he encountered while in exile in the Boston tundra."I guess it coulda been a walrus," he mused."It was real small, though.Maybe it was a baby walrus.Or a cat."Across the room at his own desk, Seymour did his best to tune out the other man's voice.DiGrotti had already taken dozens of snapshots of a moose that was actually a shrub, a fire-hydrant penguin and a sleeping polar bear that was really a snow-covered Volvo."Youse know what really pisses me off?" DiGrotti said."Dem reindeer.I been up every night till two since I got here and I ain't seen one.My neck's killin' me."He rubbed at the back of his neck with a massive hand.Both hand and neck were covered with hair.So was the rest of his hulking body.Back home in New York, he was known as Louis the Bear.Some said that he bathed in Rogaine.Of course, they had sense enough to say this behind his furry back.In addition to his physical resemblance to his animal namesake, Louis the Bear had a temper as great as the average grizzly and the strength to back it up.Seymour Botz was aware enough of Louis DiGrotti's intimidating size to not test his temper.The accountant continued to work as the big man talked."I figured the reindeer would be the easy ones to find what with all that sky up there," Louis complained."They must be hidin' out with all the walruses."Frowning deeply, he picked up his camera.He was picking at the lens when the bell above the front door suddenly jingled to life.Louis glanced up, a hopeful expression tugging at his five-o'clock shadow.But instead of a wayward reindeer, it was two men who had just entered Raffair's Boston offices.Face sagging once more, Louis tossed his camera to his desk."Damn Rudolphs," he growled.The two men didn't seem to hear him [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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