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Everything was running with a clockwork precision. Louis would have it no other way.

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

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.

Nate finally spoke. What about Kelly and Frank?

So you see, Louis said, our two missions are not so different. Only who benefits-the U.S. military complex or a French pharmaceutical company. Which in turn raises the question, who would do the greater good with the knowledge? He shrugged. Who can say? But conversely, we might ask-who would do the greater harm? Louis eyed the sergeant. And I think we can all answer that one:

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.

Everything was running with a clockwork precision. Louis would have it no other way.

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:

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:

Nate finally spoke. What about Kelly and Frank?

Nate's eyes narrowed.

Louis stared at his catch, slightly disappointed that they hadn't offered more of a challenge. The two Rangers glared back at him murderously. The small Asian anthropologist had calmed significantly, eyes closed, lips moving in prayer, resigned. Kouwe sat stoically. Louis stopped in front of the last prisoner in the lineup.

What is he talking about? Nate asked, directing the question to the sergeant. We're well past secrets now, Kostos. If you know something . . :

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.

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:'

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

Nate's eyes narrowed.

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.

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.

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.

Everything was running with a clockwork precision. Louis would have it no other way.

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?

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:

What do you mean? Nate asked suspiciously.

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:'

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