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Frangie vomits into a shallow depression, and a soldier solicitously shovels dirt over the eant hands her a hip flask

“It’s some French brandy we liberated from an A-rab shop”

Frangie has never before tasted any form of alcohol Her church does not approve, not at all, and she has sat through many of Pastor M’Dale’s sermons on the subject of demon ru more than water to wash away the vile taste of her own bile Maybe it will stop the treasps

The brandy burns its way down her throat to form a small ball of liquid fire in her sto, so even this s warh her limbs

“Thanks,” she says

“You saved that boy’s life”

She has no answer to that She’s broken the prohibition against alcohol, but she’s not ready to abandon the huie says

She walks away on legs shaking from the aftereffects of adrenaline and notices that the alcohol has done its job of pushing fear back just a little

Just a little, but enough for now

3

RAINY SCHULTERMAN—NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK, USA

“Sergeant Schulterman, sir”

“At ease Please take a seat, Sergeant; we are not very big on formality around here”

Rainy removes her cover—her cap—and sits in a ooden chair, the kind with arh for her to prop her elbows on comfortably She places her hands flat, palms down, on her neatly ironed olive drab uniform slacks, keeps her mirror-polished shoes flat on the linoleum floor, and trains her eyes on the lieutenant colonel Rainy is on leave in New York, having returned from a successful mission in North Africa

Colonel Corelli is , a pale face, and thoughtful brown eyes sunk deep beneath bushy brows The brass on his uniform says colonel, but his look, his demeanor, says professor