Unformatted text preview: s me, Langdon said, locking his car. Perfect timing, the man said. I ve just landed. Follow me, please. As they circled the building, Langdon felt tense. He was not accustomed to cryptic phone calls and secret rendezvous with strangers. Not knowing what to expect he had donned his usual classroom attire a pair of chinos, a turtleneck, and a Harris tweed suit jacket. As they walked, he thought about the fax in his jacket pocket, still unable to believe the image it depicted. The pilot seemed to sense Langdon s anxiety. Flying s not a problem for you, is it, sir? Not at all, Langdon replied. Branded corpses are a problem for me. Flying I can handle. The man led Langdon the length of the hangar. They rounded the corner onto the runway. Langdon stopped dead in his tracks and gaped at the aircraft parked on the tarmac. We re riding in that? The man grinned. Like it?...
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- Spring '12
- The Entrance, New South Wales, killer, Brotherhood, Tweed, Robert Langdon, Harris Tweed