![]() She pulled back more when she saw lice hopping through his thatch of greasy hair. She looked at him, then, and recoiled at the sight of the hideous man swathed in filthy rags. You're here 'cause you look like you can.Ĭome in! he called, and he blinked and peered at the midshipman as if he had just awakened from a sound sleep. ![]() You boys aren't here 'cause you can mop tar. He turned away and pulled a copy of the ship's deck layout from a pocket and studied it briefly, while he talked into his radio.īut Avila was quick to assert his authority.Job? This isn't no 'job,' it's an act. Cabrillo, Your Holiness, he said.We can have you there in two hours by jet. Pilston did a quick inventory.Some MREs, two thermoses of what I assume is coffee, some Hershey bars and M&M's, bottled water, maps, and some mouthwash.Īs soon as word comes from Mr. The photographer had caught him in his last moments, staring directly at the camera, a wan and beatific smile on his face. It pictured a handsome young man being strung up from a makeshift gallows. There was one Breer looked at very often. But to the Razor-Eater's greedy eyes, the best photographs were of people being hanged. Children with their skulls broken open, people lying in trenches, shot in the face, others with swastikas carved into their chests and buttocks. Some of them heaped in piles, others lying in bloody snow, frozen solid. But mostly-and more importantly-there were photographs of the dead. There were pictures of the burned-out ruins of Chekhov's cottage in Istra and others of the desecration of the Tchaikovsky residence. ![]() Mouthwatering as that day had been, knowing that his bag contained this taboo treasure that delight was nothing compared to the revelations of the book itself. He'd slipped it into his bag unopened, knowing from the very title-Soviet Documents on Nazi Atrocities-that this was a volume almost as sweet in the anticipation as in the reading. The warning had really got his imagination working: here was a book people weren't really meant to see. Only photographs, of course, in a book he'd stolen from work about war crimes, markedNot for the open shelves. I took the violin and I wanted to play it for them, I was thinking ![]()
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