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Unformatted text preview: ere silently, and then he turned on his heel and walked away. The big black car was waiting for him as it had been for two hours, during which this act had been played and replayed. "He's lying," said Aaron. "He's not Talamasca," said Yuri, though it was more a suggestion than a statement. "Oh, yes, he is. He's one of us, and he's lying. Don't turn your back on him for an instant." "No, I wouldn't. But Aaron, how can this be? How can such a thing . . ." "I don't know. I've heard of him. He's been with us for three years. I've heard of his work in Italy and in Russia. He's very much respected. David Talbot thought highly of him. If only we hadn't lost David. But Stolov's not so very clever. He can't read minds that well. He could perhaps if he himself weren't putting on such an act. But the facade requires all his cunning. And so he's not very good." The black car had silently slithered away from the curb. "God, Yuri," Aaron suddenly whispere...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10