There were too many kills, too many unsolved files in too many cabinets. One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. “Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath. "It is past," said Jack, placing his finger on the trigger. He was beautiful and perfect, his blue eyes smiling at her.
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