Then, as he was trying to bite through the rope, I told him, ‘That’s for 107 Traci, motherfucker. It is difficult to express these things. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. Selling out of the Army to take up his inheritance had spelled boredom to Gerald Alderley.
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