“General Simon Mado whistled a tuneless melody as he walked down Sixteenth Street near the National Geographic Society building. A dark gray town car pulled to the curb beside him. The front-seat passenger window rolled down and a voice called him by name, telling him to get in. Very fancy for a reporter, he thought. The rear door swung open and he got in. A small-caliber handgun was jammed into his ribs as the car moved into the midday traffic. “You bastards made a bad mistake,” he growled. A n...eedle jammed into his arm was his only answer. Consciousness came slowly and Mado fought the fog that swirled through his brain. His first clear impression was of a very bitter taste in his mouth. Slowly another sensation came to him: He was lying naked under a blanket in a narrow berth. I’m on a boat, he thought. The soft light streaming through a porthole and a gentle rocking motion told him it was afternoon and that they were in smooth waters. Now where are my fuckin’ clothes, he thought.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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