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<DIV style="FLOAT: left;"><FONT size=3><STRONG>Le<BR>Xa<BR>Va<BR>Vl<BR>Cl<BR>A<BR>So</STRONG></FONT></DIV>
<DIV style="FLOAT: left;"><FONT size=3><STRONG>vitra (30)<BR>nax (30)<BR>LlUM (30)<BR>AGRA (30)<BR>ALlS (30)<BR>mbien (30)<BR>ma (30)</STRONG></FONT></DIV>
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<DIV>entrance. He leaned toward the open side of the booth, his hand on his
forehead, then quickly moved back as a couple were shown to a table in
the corner to the left of the door.
What is it? asked Bourne.
I dont know ... Im not sure.
Who came in, Aleksei?
Thats just it, I think I should know him but I dont.
Where is he seated? In a booth?
No, a table. In the corner beyond the bar. Hes with a woman.
Krupkin moved to the edge of his seat, took out his billfold and
removed from its recess a small mirror the size and thickness of a
credit card. Cupping it in both hands, he cautiously angled the glass in
front of him. You must be addicted to the society pages of the Paris</DIV></BODY></HTML>