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WE were looking for Dewi Dammo and stood a better chance than most. We had an informer: careful, clever, threatened Peter Pederson, a double agent betrayed and hunted, fully conditioned by Dewi and about to die. He sat across from us in the quiet lobby of the Grand Hotel in Angel Bay, and we could see at a glance that Dewi had gotten to him. The face was haggard, the eyes he turned on us were dull from the death-conditioning. Every thought about Dewi's affairs merely hastened his end, and had brought Pederson to the point where the suffering was too great. Death was the only choice, and he had come to us because he knew we were after Dewi. "We want him, Peter," I said, and my gesture included not only the small group of us from Rynosseros sitting in the big lobby chairs on this quiet afternoon, but the white-suited doctor Peter had told his story to on the phone and had arranged to meet at this fateful rendezvous. Jarvain Alis, flanked by his two silent assistants, was a member of the exclusive Inner Eye medical-religious sect, and his people had ample cause to hate Dewi. "Like you, Captain Tom, I have been briefed on the phone," Doctor |
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