Beats Tour

I would be happy to train a corps of investigators. We could even operate in the city,复件 (13) air max1, watching from the market towers." The security chief sidled around the parapet; he kicked idly at stones in the rotted mortar. "The idea has its attractions. Mind you, I think we have all Flenser's agents identified; we feed them well ... with lies. It's interesting to hear the lies come back from our sources up there." He laughed shortly, and glanced over the parapet, thinking. "But you're right. If we are missing anyone with access to the Two-legs or Dataset ... it could be disastrous." He turned more heads at Scriber. "You've got a deal. I can get you four or five people to,复件 (4) air max2, ah, train in your methods." Scriber couldn't control his expression; he almost bounced in enthusiasm, all eyes on Vendacious. "You won't regret this, sir!" Vendacious shrugged. "Probably not. Now,复件 (25) air max, how many others have you told about your investigation? We'll want to bring them in,复件 (70) air max1,BEATS TOUR, swear them to secrecy." Scriber drew himself up. "My Lord! I told you that I am a professional. I have kept this completely to myself, waiting for this conversation." Vendacious smiled and relaxed to an almost genial posture. "Excellent. Then we can begin." Maybe it was Vendacious's voice -- a trifle too loud -- or maybe it was some small sound behind him. Whatever the reason, Scriber turned a head from the other and saw swift shadows coming over the forest side of the parapet. Too late he heard the attacker's mind noise. Arrows hissed, and fire burned through his Phan's throat. He gagged, but kept himself together and raced around the turret toward Vendacious. "Help me!" The scream was a waste of speech. Scriber knew, even before the other drew his knives and backed away. Vendacious stood clear as his assassin jumped into Scriber's midst. Rational thought dimmed in a frenzy of noise and slashing pain. Tell Peregrine! Tell Johanna! The butchering continued for timeless instants and then -- Part of him was drowning in sticky red. Part of him was blinded. Jaquerama's thought came in ragged fragments. At least one of him was dead: Phan lay beheaded in a spreading pool of blood. It steamed in the cold air. Pain and cold and ... drowning, choking ... tell Johanna. The assassin and his boss had retreated from him. Vendacious. Security chief. Traitor-in-chief. Tell Johanna. They stood quietly ... watching him bleed to death. Too prissy to mess their thoughts with his. They'd wait. They'd wait ... till his mind noise dimmed, then finish the job. Quiet. So quiet. The killers' distant thoughts. Sounds of gagging, moaning. No one would ever know.... Almost all gone. Ja stared dumbly at the two strange packs. One came toward him, steel claws on its feet, blades in its mouth. No! Ja jumped up, slipping and skidding on the wet. The pack lunged, but Ja was already standing on the parapet. He leaped backwards and fell and fell... ... and shattered on rocks far below. Ja pulled himself away from the wall. There was pain across his back,复件 (32) air max, then numbness. Where am I? Where am I? Fog everywhere. High above him there were muttering voices. Memories of knives and tines floated in his small mind, all jumbled. Tell Johanna! He remembered ... something ... from before. A hidden trail through deep brush. If he went that way far enough, he would find Johanna. Ja dragged himself slowly up the path. Something was wrong with his rear legs; he couldn't feel them. Tell Johanna. .