’ Twelve hours later Helene Falkland pulled the sheet around her. The thermostat was set a shade too low to ease the morning chill. ‘We’ve got t... go, Huey.’ She slipped her feet into the hotel slippers as she stood up. Her fingers raked through her tousled hair as she searched for the comb. The dresser? No. The bathroom sink? Damn it! The bathroom light spilled across the bedroom carpet. The rhinestones in the yellow comb flashed on the floor at the corner of the bed. ‘Double damn!’ Helene. Back in his office Control put down his phone, after some terse persuasion and calling in a few favours the Prime Minister had agreed to instruct British military satellites and Search aircraft to begin looking for GPS signatures on the frequency M.I.7 had identified, he was also requesting US input over the areas they covered.Back in Quetta Suzzanne shifted painfully on the floor of her cell, all of her muscles felt stiff and bruised from the electro torture she had endured and her pussy lips. More

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