Life was Marc's oyster, but: subversives had shot him--a ghost was ready to haunt his corpse--and Toffee was loving him to death! _Just as he stepped to the microphone Marc caught sight of the swarthy man. He saw the red scar across the left eyebrow, the dull flash of metal in the large hairy hand. By then it was too late even to cry out. In the next instant the glass panel in the control booth shattered._…
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