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CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWO

"Elias," Douglas said into the phone, "What's holding your return to Brighton?"

Douglas looked haggard, his hair which had always been slicked back now shot out. His beard was now overgrown and scruffy. His immaculately clean and starched clothes were now rumpled and scraggly. Books were scattered all over the place, some shelves were toppled over, others were broken and the splinters and pieces strewn over the study.

Douglas desk fared worse, different bottles of liquor stood or laid on it alongside crumpled bits of paper, food wrapper and broken glass. The study reeked of stale food and alcohol.

"We'll soon be home, give us at least a week." Mendez responded.

Growling Douglas banged his desk, spilling some of its content to the floor.

"Are you playing games with me?" He growled. "You should have been back and you're giving me silly excuses! Is Nicole now expendable?"

"Douglas, all I'm saying is that we'll be back in a week. Why are you bringing Nicole into this again?"

Douglas laug
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