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Show Acting Alone Page 84 pains to pretend that he didn't care about respectability, stood in the sweltering Larga Distancia hut for three and one-half hours just to get through to Kansas. (It was nice to be out of the sun for a few hours, it's true.) The fey secretary's flutey voice giggled through the miles of static and said that, yes, Enemy Digest was there, and, was that anything like Soldier of Fortune Magazine? Her husband subscribed to that one, and " - oh, yeah. This is long distance, so we better not chitchat, huh? Is that all you wanted Sammy? Where are you, for gosh sake? I think you're in trouble around here, with your committee or something. . . Okay, I'll hide your Enemy Digest, though I can't imagine who from. The sissies around this place aren't interested in freelance soldiering, that's for sure. Anyway, bye-bye Sammy -!" At exactly one-sixteenth of an inch away from clicking down and hanging up on Kansas forever, the black earpiece in Sam's hand squirmed a little bit and squeaked, "Ooooh, Sammy! Wait, don't hang up! There's a message. Some guy called. Some guy name of - Warmsupper? Wombshtupper? Whatever. Anyway, he called and said that 'He wants to negotiate.' That's all he said. What's he want to negotiate about, Sammy, huh? - what's he -" Sam didn't bother to hang up. They were on the next Aero Mexico jet back to the Land of the Free. Fuck the car. They rented it to a beachcomber/metaphysician for the price |