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to keep Cara from being suspicious about its presence than from any actual interest in the book. He would turn down the page from which he had chosen his password and leave the book lying out in the open as if it were of no importance.His system wasn't perfect. He changed the password so often that sometimes he forgot which word he had chosen, hence the turned-down page. He could always recognize the word once he saw it, if he was on the correct page."Where's Temple from?" Cara asked. "I'm not finding anything on him using a broad search. I need a closer focus.""America, I think, but I've heard rumors he had lived in Europe for at least ten years. Try Scotland Yard."She sighed as she tapped keys. "This is going to get me arrested some day," she grumbled.Ronsard smiled. He did enjoy Cara; she knew exactly what his business entailed but managed to maintain the same attitude as if she worked in a corporate office somewhere. Nor was she intimidated by him, and though a certain amount of intimidation was necessary in his chosen field, sometimes it was wearying.Nor had she fallen in love with him, which was fortunate. Ronsard knew women, knew the effect he had on them, but Cara had bluntly told him that though she liked him she wasn't interested in sleeping with him. That, too, had been a relief.She slept with other men, most recently his Egyptian bodyguard, Hossam, who had been obsessed with the tall blonde woman from the day he first saw her. Ronsard only hoped Hossam wouldn't lose control of his Middle-Eastern temperament when his American Norse goddess lost interest in him."Damn," she muttered and typed furiously. The Scotland Yard computer was giving her problems, he concluded."Damn!" she shouted a minute later and slapped the monitor. "The bastards have added a wrinkle-"She began muttering to herself as she tried to electronically wriggle into the Scotland Yard database. Ronsard waited, puffing on his cigar. Cara's mutterings were only half intelligible, thank God, because as she worked her language deteriorated alarmingly." Shitpissfuck-"His eyebrows rose as she got up and stalked around the office, swearing under her breath and waving her hands in the air as she appeared to be having a conversation with herself."Okay, what if I try this," she finally muttered and resumed her seat to pound out another series of commands.Ten minutes later she sat back with a blissful expression on her face. "Outsmarted the sons of bitches," she crowed. "Okay, let's see what you have on 'Temple, first name unknown.'"A file popped on the screen. Cara hit the print button, and the printer whirred to life, spitting out a single sheet of paper."That isn't much," Ronsard murmured as she got up and brought the sheet to him. "Try the FBI; if he's American, they may have more on him."He began reading. Scotland Yard didn't have many hard facts on Temple. "Believed" to have worked with Baader-Meinhoff in Germany. "Believed" to have been associated with Basque Fatherland in Spain. "Believed" to have had contact with the IRA. Evidently Scotland亮晶晶卡盟.GIF:卡希尔点射,绿城1-2恒大,GIF:高拉特点球破门,恒大1-1建业,to keep Cara from being suspicious about its presence than from any actual interest in the book. He would turn down the page from which he had chosen his password and leave the book lying out in the open as if it were of no importance.His system wasn't perfect. He changed the password so often that sometimes he forgot which word he had chosen, hence the turned-down page. He could always recognize the word once he saw it, if he was on the correct page."Where's Temple from?" Cara asked. "I'm not finding anything on him using a broad search. I need a closer focus.""America, I think, but I've heard rumors he had lived in Europe for at least ten years. Try Scotland Yard."She sighed as she tapped keys. "This is going to get me arrested some day," she grumbled.Ronsard smiled. He did enjoy Cara; she knew exactly what his business entailed but managed to maintain the same attitude as if she worked in a corporate office somewhere. Nor was she intimidated by him, and though a certain amount of intimidation was necessary in his chosen field, sometimes it was wearying.Nor had she fallen in love with him, which was fortunate. Ronsard knew women, knew the effect he had on them, but Cara had bluntly told him that though she liked him she wasn't interested in sleeping with him. That, too, had been a relief.She slept with other men, most recently his Egyptian bodyguard, Hossam, who had been obsessed with the tall blonde woman from the day he first saw her. Ronsard only hoped Hossam wouldn't lose control of his Middle-Eastern temperament when his American Norse goddess lost interest in him."Damn," she muttered and typed furiously. The Scotland Yard computer was giving her problems, he concluded."Damn!" she shouted a minute later and slapped the monitor. "The bastards have added a wrinkle-"She began muttering to herself as she tried to electronically wriggle into the Scotland Yard database. Ronsard waited, puffing on his cigar. Cara's mutterings were only half intelligible, thank God, because as she worked her language deteriorated alarmingly." Shitpissfuck-"His eyebrows rose as she got up and stalked around the office, swearing under her breath and waving her hands in the air as she appeared to be having a conversation with herself."Okay, what if I try this," she finally muttered and resumed her seat to pound out another series of commands.Ten minutes later she sat back with a blissful expression on her face. "Outsmarted the sons of bitches," she crowed. "Okay, let's see what you have on 'Temple, first name unknown.'"A file popped on the screen. Cara hit the print button, and the printer whirred to life, spitting out a single sheet of paper."That isn't much," Ronsard murmured as she got up and brought the sheet to him. "Try the FBI; if he's American, they may have more on him."He began reading. Scotland Yard didn't have many hard facts on Temple. "Believed" to have worked with Baader-Meinhoff in Germany. "Believed" to have been associated with Basque Fatherland in Spain. "Believed" to have had contact with the IRA. Evidently Scotland.。

to keep Cara from being suspicious about its presence than from any actual interest in the book. He would turn down the page from which he had chosen his password and leave the book lying out in the open as if it were of no importance.His system wasn't perfect. He changed the password so often that sometimes he forgot which word he had chosen, hence the turned-down page. He could always recognize the word once he saw it, if he was on the correct page."Where's Temple from?" Cara asked. "I'm not finding anything on him using a broad search. I need a closer focus.""America, I think, but I've heard rumors he had lived in Europe for at least ten years. Try Scotland Yard."She sighed as she tapped keys. "This is going to get me arrested some day," she grumbled.Ronsard smiled. He did enjoy Cara; she knew exactly what his business entailed but managed to maintain the same attitude as if she worked in a corporate office somewhere. Nor was she intimidated by him, and though a certain amount of intimidation was necessary in his chosen field, sometimes it was wearying.Nor had she fallen in love with him, which was fortunate. Ronsard knew women, knew the effect he had on them, but Cara had bluntly told him that though she liked him she wasn't interested in sleeping with him. That, too, had been a relief.She slept with other men, most recently his Egyptian bodyguard, Hossam, who had been obsessed with the tall blonde woman from the day he first saw her. Ronsard only hoped Hossam wouldn't lose control of his Middle-Eastern temperament when his American Norse goddess lost interest in him."Damn," she muttered and typed furiously. The Scotland Yard computer was giving her problems, he concluded."Damn!" she shouted a minute later and slapped the monitor. "The bastards have added a wrinkle-"She began muttering to herself as she tried to electronically wriggle into the Scotland Yard database. Ronsard waited, puffing on his cigar. Cara's mutterings were only half intelligible, thank God, because as she worked her language deteriorated alarmingly." Shitpissfuck-"His eyebrows rose as she got up and stalked around the office, swearing under her breath and waving her hands in the air as she appeared to be having a conversation with herself."Okay, what if I try this," she finally muttered and resumed her seat to pound out another series of commands.Ten minutes later she sat back with a blissful expression on her face. "Outsmarted the sons of bitches," she crowed. "Okay, let's see what you have on 'Temple, first name unknown.'"A file popped on the screen. Cara hit the print button, and the printer whirred to life, spitting out a single sheet of paper."That isn't much," Ronsard murmured as she got up and brought the sheet to him. "Try the FBI; if he's American, they may have more on him."He began reading. Scotland Yard didn't have many hard facts on Temple. "Believed" to have worked with Baader-Meinhoff in Germany. "Believed" to have been associated with Basque Fatherland in Spain. "Believed" to have had contact with the IRA. Evidently Scotland。


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