“Hello?” She asked as she cradled the phone by her ear. What could she do? Reluctantly, at a second curt command, she began to step across the uncarpeted floor, her eyes never leaving the threatening pistol. “Your best route will be via Boulogne and Folkestone at nine o’clock from the Gare du Nord. Gerald was conscious of that sliver of irritation again at mention of the name. Good night. “I’m very shy, and I would like to opt out if you don’t mind.
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