““There is the drug. I am sure they’re using a drug. I want to check that out. And there is the medallion. The unicorn coin they were wearing, as if it were a badge of identification. All these men are trained as expert killers, assassins, bank robbers, drivers, you name it. Their skills seem to be heightened abnormally. It’s not natural. It seems to make them—” “Supermen?” Meecham interrupted wryly. “Yes, sir.” “Nonsense.” “They’ve performed seemingly impossible feats.” Meecham said, “They are ...elite, highly trained mercenaries. Employed by someone. Someone who knows all about K Section and the ISB. Someone who wants to destroy us. Experts. Honed to a fine efficiency. Nothing more.” “They behave abnormally,” Durell insisted. Meecham was silent. They had walked back across the Rhone River and had taken small side streets to the Rue des Alpes and Cornavin Railroad Station. Meecham turned right, then right again. Durell watched the traffic. No one was following them.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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