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Unformatted text preview: be in the paper tomorrow. Leak it to the press. Show them two of the photos, the two I've got marked there on the back." Sandy shuffled until he picked out the photos. One was a close-up of the burns on Patrick's chest, with his face visible. The other showed the third-degree burn on his left thigh. "You want me to give these to the press?" "Only to the Coast paper. That's the only one I'm worried about. It's read by eighty percent of Harrison County, where I'm sure our jury will come from." Sandy smiled, then chuckled. "You didn't sleep much last night, did you?" "I haven't slept in four years." "This is brilliant." "No, but it's one of the few tactical advantages we can spring on those hyenas circling my carcass. We broadside them with this, and we soften up the sentiment a bit. Think of it, Sandy. The FBI torturing a suspect, an American citizen." "Brilliant, just brilliant. We sue only the FBI?" "Yes, keep it simple. Me versus the FBI, the government-for permanent physical and psychological injuries sustained during a brutal torture and interrogation session somewhere in the jungles of Brazil." "Sounds wonderful to me." "It'll sound even better when the press gets finished with it." "How much?" "I don't care. Ten million in actual damages, a hundred million in punitive." Sandy scrawled notes and flipped to the next page. Then he stopped and studied Patrick's face. "It wasn't really the FBI, was it." "No," Patrick said, "it wasn't. I was delivered to the FBI by some faceless thugs who've been chasing me for a long time. And they're still lurking out there somewhere." "Does the FBI know about them?" Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html "Yes." The room went silent, as Sandy waited for more and Patrick became tight-lipped. Nurses could be heard prattling in...
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- Spring '10