May 10, 2010 23:25
"The question is," he says, gesturing at the two files side by side, "whether it's worth gambling on this man's sense of obligation. Or his family's."
He's sitting at one end of the couch in Jordie's living room, studying the tiled display on his datareader screen.
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Just like old times.
"It's not likely that the place is going to get firebombed." He doesn't sound like he's kidding. "Extra scrutiny on whoever builds on the property afterward. So what's there to lose, from the clinic's perspective?"
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"I hate you," Jordie says, and he tosses the ball in the air again. "If you get me hunted down by your sister or your wife over the fact that you're dead, we will probably mutually haunt each other until the end of existence."
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He considers reaching to grab the ball, and decides against it.
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The ball goes on the coffee table. Jordie tucks his arms behind his head and stares at the ceiling. "I can see what I can do about getting you a scrambled channel. They'll probably still be able to figure out it's coming from Capital City, but not the exact location."
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Beat.
"Now all I have to do is work out what to say to them."
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Simon rubs his chin.
"I wonder."
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His tone's slightly self-mocking, but not facetious.
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Beat.
Half to himself: "Though 'stop shaving' isn't really going to be feasible."
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"I could wear an eyepatch."
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