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    before going in search of Al-Fulani.
    The agent found the Moroccan cowering in a storage room, where he was shaking like a leaf
    and had recently shit his lovely silk pajamas.
     Good morning, the assassin said politely, as the terrified businessman stared up at him.  My
    name is Taylor, and I have some questions to ask you.
    There weren't any historians present to record the moment, but the airfield at Quadi Doum had
    fallen for the second time, and vultures were circling above.
    FIFTEEN
    ROME, ITALY
    Diana had flown to Rome for a three-day vacation and was asleep in her suite at the St. Regis
    Grand when the men in black came to get her.
    The door was double-locked, of course, yet that was a minimal obstacle to the men who
    gathered outside her door. They picked the lock with ease, positioned themselves with weapons
    drawn, and prepared to enter.
    But when the lead assailant turned the doorknob and put his shoulder to the wood, the only
    reaction was the strident beep, beep, beep, generated by the wedge-shaped miniature alarm
    Diana had pushed in under the door.
    It took less than ten seconds to shove a long, thin pry bar in under the barrier and dislodge the
    wedge. Nonetheless, Diana was already firing by the time the door slammed open.
    The first agent through the door took a 9 mm round right between the eyes and went down as if
    pole-axed from above. The man immediately behind him was more fortunate in that he was
    wearing body armor, and took two bullets to the chest without sustaining serious injury.
    But as the impact took the second operative down Mr. Nu fired a Taser X26, which shot two
    probes at Diana. Both struck their target and delivered a shock powerful enough to bring her
    still-twitching body down.
     Get everyone into the bedroom, Nu ordered tersely.  I'll take care of the hotel's security
    people. There was a mad scramble as Diana was laid out on her rumpled bed, the dead agent
    was dumped into her bathtub, and the man who had taken two 9 mm blows to the chest was led
    over to an easy chair that occupied one corner of the ornate bedroom.
    By that time Mr. Nu had shed his suit coat, removed his tie, and mussed his hair. With the
    improvised disguise in place he stepped out into the hall and was waiting there when two of the
    hotel's plainclothes security people stepped off the elevator.
     I heard three loud firecrackers go off, Nu complained belligerently.  Do you have children
    staying on this floor? My wife and I expect some peace and quiet for the kind of money we're
    paying. Especially at the St. Regis.
    Both security people quickly turned apologetic and promised to conduct a complete
    investigation. They even went so far as to knock on neighboring doors so that other cranky
    guests could abuse them. Then, having been unable to pinpoint the exact nature or the origin of
    the firecracker-like noises, the two were forced to withdraw.
    Mr. Nu reentered Diana's suite and returned to her bedroom. Like most of the heterosexual men
    who had met her, the executive had often wondered what Diana would look like without any
    clothes on. And now he knew. The fact that her wrists and ankles were secured to the bedposts
    made the tableau all the more interesting.
    Though still recovering from the effects of being tasered, the controller was clearly conscious
    and, judging from the look in her eyes, extremely angry. Her full and apparently natural breasts
    were somewhat flattened thanks to her supine position. Not her nipples though, which were
    pink and fully erect.
    From there Nu allowed his eyes to travel down along the flat plane of her stomach to the
    intersection between her legs. Most of her pubic hair had been removed, and based on the small
    triangle of white skin he saw there, it was clear that the controller had a preference for thongs.
    Diana's hips were a bit narrow for a woman, or so it seemed to Nu, but her shapely legs more
    than made up for what he saw as a shortcoming.
     Are you finished yet? the controller inquired contemptuously.  Perhaps you'd like a cigarette.
    Mr. Nu smiled thinly as he sat next to her on the bed.
     My dear, dear, Diana. You sound so very brave! But as you know better than most, it's hard to
    talk tough once the cutting begins. We'll use the surgical cautery, of course. That was one of
    your innovations, as I recall. And a good one, too! Because the cautery seals the blood vessels
    off even as it slices through them. That prevents blood loss, and prolongs the subject's life. And
    then there's the rather distinctive burning odor, which adds yet another dimension to the
    process.
     Take this nipple, for example, Nu said, as he took the nub between a thumb and forefinger.
     You would be able to watch us cut it off, feel the excruciating pain, and smell your burning
    flesh all at the same time! Who knows? Maybe we could pop the little morsel into your mouth
    so you could taste it, too. Or, the executive added thoughtfully,  you could simply tell me the
    truth.
     About what? Diana demanded.  And get your hands off me.
     About your relationship with the Puissance Treize, Nu answered gently, as he continued to
    squeeze, harder now.
    Diana winced.
     I don't have a relationship with the Puissance Treize.
     Ah, but I think you do, the executive corrected her.  How else can you explain the one million
    dollars that was deposited into your checking account four days ago, the two-million-dollar New
    York condominium deeded over to you three days ago, and the three million dollars' worth of
    United States Treasury bonds that appeared in your portfolio the day before yesterday? We pay [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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