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After AmericaIt was gaily lit, with crowded tables clustered around charcoal burners. The clientele seemed a mixed bunch: old German and Middle Eastern, men and women, some of the latter wearing scarves and some not. "Ah, but you are not just a guest, are you, Caitlin?" Mirsaad ventured before they got any closer. "And you are not a police officer. In my experience, in Europe at least, police officers do not flit about on their own in the dark." She smiled. "No, Sayad. I am not a police officer. But I am looking for the man who came after my family and your friend. And I need your help to find him. Or at least to start looking." "And what about my family, Caitlin? Will they be safe if I help you? I can make decisions for myself, but I cannot recklessly endanger my wife and children with a clear conscience." She regarded him dispassionately. He was a very intelligent man and street-smart with it. There would be no bullshitting him. "There is some danger, Sayad. The man I'm after, he's a bad motherfucker. But so am I." "I believe you are, Caitlin ...» |
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