Hell _ Dan Brown _ txt Fiction Heaven
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What's wrong with him? What has he been doing? The provost led the nervous guests into the office. "That silver-haired devil," stammered his client, "she's getting closer to me day by day." The provost glanced down at the client's file in his hand and saw the attractive silver-haired woman in the picture. "Yes," replied the provost, "your silver-haired devil. We know all about your enemies. Despite her power, we have kept her away from you for the past year, and we will continue to do so. The green-eyed man was anxious and kept twining his fingers around his greasy hair. "Don't be fooled by her beauty. She's a very dangerous enemy." True enough, said the provost, still displeased that his client had provoked this influential figure. The silver woman's authority and resources are unimaginably abundant-she is not the type of opponent that the provost likes. If she or her demons find me.. The client opened his mouth. "They won't," the provost assured him. "Haven't we kept you well hidden?"? Didn't we meet all your demands? "Yes," said the client, "but the only way I can sleep better is.." He paused. I need to know if something happens to me,drum spill pallet, will you fulfill my last wish? "What is your wish?" The client reached into his bag and pulled out a small sealed envelope. "I have a safe for valuables in Florence, and the way to open it is in this letter.". In the safe, you will find a gadget. If something happens to me, I need you to deliver it. It counts as a gift. "Well," said the provost,plastic pallet bins, picking up his pen to take notes, "who shall I give it to?" "To the silver-haired devil." The provost glanced up at him. "A gift for your tormentor?" "It's more like a thorn in the flesh," he said, his eyes glinting crazily, "and it's a clever barb made of bone. She will find that this is a map. Her personal Virgil.. To accompany her down into the depths of her own hell. The dean looked at him for a long time. "As you wish.". Leave it to me and I'll finish it. "The timing is critical," the client suggested. "Gifts should not be given too early. You must keep it in secret until.. He stopped, lost in his own thoughts. Until when? Provost urged. The client jerked to his feet, walked behind the Provost's desk, grabbed a red marker, plastic pallet crates ,ibc spill containment pallet, and circled a date on the Provost's personal desk calendar. Until this day. The Provost's teeth itched with hatred, but he heaved a long breath and tried to swallow his impudent disgust for his client. Understood, "said the provost," until the day you circle, I will hold my fire; and on that day, whatever you have in the safe, I will give it to the silver-haired woman. I promise you. He looked at the day circled on the calendar and counted the days. "Fourteen days from now, I will fulfill your wish." "And not a day earlier!" "The client admonished, with paranoid fervor in his voice." "I understand," the provost assured me. "It's not a day early." The provost took the envelope, inserted it into the client's file, and made the necessary notes to ensure that the client's wishes were carried out accurately. The client did not specify the exact nature of the contents of the safe, but the provost was happy not to know. Keeping out of the way is the cornerstone of the "consortium" philosophy. Provide services. No questions asked. No judgment. The client's shoulders sank and he gasped, "Thank you." "Is there anything else?" Provost asked, anxious to get rid of the reinvented client. Yes, in fact, there is one more thing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small crimson memory stick. This is a video file. He placed the memory stick in front of the provost. "I want to upload it to the world's media." The dean looked at the man in front of him curiously. The "consortium" often disseminates information on a large scale for its clients, but this person's request made the provost feel a little inappropriate. On the same day? The provost asked, pointing to the date scribbled on the calendar. "The same day," replied the client, "not a moment before." "Understood." The provost labeled the crimson memory stick with the requirements. That's it, right? He stood up and prepared to give the order to leave. The client sat motionless. "Wait.". There is one last thing. The provost sat down again. The client's green eyes shone like a beast. Once you upload this video, I will become a celebrity. You are already a celebrity. The provost remembered the brilliant achievements of the client. Then you will share in some of the glory, and you deserve it, "said the client." Your service has enabled me to complete my greatest work.. A masterpiece that will change the world. You should be proud of that. "Whatever your masterpiece is," the provost said with growing impatience, "I'm glad you got the privacy you needed to do it." "To show my appreciation, I brought you a farewell gift." The scruffy client reached into his bag again. "It's a book." The provost wondered if the book was the secret work the client had been working on: "Did you write this book?" "No." He threw a huge scroll on his desk. "On the contrary.." This book was written for me. Confused, the dean glanced at the book the client had produced. He thought it was written for him? This is a literary classic. Works of the fourteenth century. "Read it," the client said with an eerie grin. "It will help you understand what I've done." With that,plastic pallet suppliers, the slovenly guest stood up, said goodbye, and suddenly turned away. The provost watched through his office window as the client's helicopter left the splint and headed for the Italian coastline. binpallet.com