Avila's name and unlisted home phone number winked fatefully at the bottom of the first screen. It was a lengthy roster, alphabetized for convenience. He called his secretary, whose fingers swiftly punched up a highly confidential computer file of corrupt and/or corruptible officials in Dade, Broward, Palm Beach, Lee and Monroe Counties. In one of his huge hands the bum held by its tail an opossum, its jaw slack and its fur crusty with blood. A silvery beard hung off his cheeks in two ropy braids, each decorated with a hooked beak. He wore a cheap shower cap on his head, and he had a jittery red eyeball that looked like a party gag. In the white-man's world, I go by the name of Frederick Barker. I know perfectly well who you are, the man said.Let's not waste time. There's no need to go through the routine of name, rank and serial number. We should be able to take them out before they know what hit them. Luckily, they're facing away, with their backs to the ladder. A man and a woman are sitting at computer consoles. The ladder runs through a ventilator systems control center that sits about fifteen feet above the floor of the tunnel.
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