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datatime: 2022-11-26 17:52:20 Author:XUYAxXbe

I'll leave your deaths to the U.S. military, he said sadly, the emotion surprisingly unfeigned.

Louis shook his head and took two steps to reach Sergeant Kostos. I think that question should be answered by your companion here:

Louis had a hard time maintaining eye contact with the man, but he refused to look away. In Nathan's face, he saw a shadow of the man's father: the sandy hair, the planes of the cheek, the shape of his nose. But this was not Carl Rand. And to Louis's surprise, this disappointed him. The satisfaction he had expected to feel at having Carl's son kneeling at his feet was hollow.

Ali, the missing members of the group Louis was not surprised it was Nate who brought up the question. Don't worry about their health. They'll be coming with my party, Louis explained. I've been in contact with my financiers. Monsieur O'Brien will prove an ideal guinea pig to investigate this regenerative process. The scientists at St. Savin are itching to get their hands and instruments on him:

Raising an arm, Louis pointed back to the small group of men gathered around the giant tree. They were his own demolitions team. Against the white bark of the trunk, the Rangers' remaining nine minibombs appeared like flat black eyes peering toward them. Thanks to the U.S. government, there's enough firepower here to wipe out even a giant monster of a tree like this one:

Louis straightened, enjoying the shocked expressions on the others' faces. Even the female Ranger looked surprised. It seemed the military liked to keep its secrets to only a select few.

Nathan Rand's gaze was as hard as the Rangers; but there was a glint of something more. A vein of icy determination.

Louis removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. I swore as a gentleman that I wouldn't kill you or your friends. And I will honor my word:'

Louis followed him with his eyes. At the tree, two small steel drums were being rolled out of the trunk's tunnel. After the valley had been secured, men with axes and awls had hiked up inside the tree, set deep taps into the trunk, and drained large quantities of the priceless sap. As the men pushed the drums into the field, Louis studied another team laboring around the base of the giant Yagga tree. His eyes narrowed.

I don't know what you're talking about, Kostos said with a glower.

What are you going to do with us? Nate said. It was not a plea, but a simple question.

What are you going to do with us? Nate said. It was not a plea, but a simple question.

Louis bent down at the waist and stared into the sergeant's face. Really . . , are you saying Captain Waxman didn't confide in his staff sergeant?

Louis had a hard time maintaining eye contact with the man, but he refused to look away. In Nathan's face, he saw a shadow of the man's father: the sandy hair, the planes of the cheek, the shape of his nose. But this was not Carl Rand. And to Louis's surprise, this disappointed him. The satisfaction he had expected to feel at having Carl's son kneeling at his feet was hollow.

Louis shook his head and took two steps to reach Sergeant Kostos. I think that question should be answered by your companion here:

Ali, the missing members of the group Louis was not surprised it was Nate who brought up the question. Don't worry about their health. They'll be coming with my party, Louis explained. I've been in contact with my financiers. Monsieur O'Brien will prove an ideal guinea pig to investigate this regenerative process. The scientists at St. Savin are itching to get their hands and instruments on him:

But finally, it was those eyes, as hard as polished stone. He had clearly known inconsolable grief and somehow survived. Louis remembered his elderly friend from the bar back at his hotel in French Guiana, the survivor of the Devil's Island penal system. Louis pictured the old man sipping his neat bourbons. The chap had the same eyes. These were not Carl Rand's eyes, his father's eyes. Here was a different man.

Satisfied, he strode over to the line of segregated prisoners, the survivors of the Ranger team, baking and burning under the sun. They sat slightly apart from the remaining members of the Ban-ali tribe.

In fact, he found himself somewhat respecting the young man. Throughout the journey here, Nathan had demonstrated both ingenuity and a stout heart, even dispatching Louis's spy. And finally, here at the end, he had proven his loyalty, with a willingness to sacrifice his own life for his team. Admirable qualities, even if they were directed at cross purposes to Louis's own.

Nate's eyes narrowed.

Louis bent down at the waist and stared into the sergeant's face. Really . . , are you saying Captain Waxman didn't confide in his staff sergeant?

Nate's eyes narrowed.

A distinct quiet settled over the group.

Nate's eyes narrowed.

But finally, it was those eyes, as hard as polished stone. He had clearly known inconsolable grief and somehow survived. Louis remembered his elderly friend from the bar back at his hotel in French Guiana, the survivor of the Devil's Island penal system. Louis pictured the old man sipping his neat bourbons. The chap had the same eyes. These were not Carl Rand's eyes, his father's eyes. Here was a different man.

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