He wriggled underneath her heaving body, pinned like an insect. You truly are your mother’s, Lucia. She could hear their footsteps upon the pavement. She placed the freezer back on top of Ray Plote's old hiding place, now his permanent resting place. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. Brendon made a quick movement forward.
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