From: Lester <maxim@netcom.com>
Date: Tue, 4 Nov 1997 11:42:48 -0800 (PST)
Subject: Logo Fyles #15
Message-id: <Pine.3.89.9711041135.A7690-0100000@netcom14>
a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o ----------------------------- 1|= T A M A R A = . L . ' . . =|1 2|C R A I G * . . R I S I N G .|2 3|. U - . A . S . ' m . . - . .|3 4|' N . A M E N ' . N . - . . '|4 5|. D . . O . I . R A H . . . J|5 6|. L . . I * F . E E . . U * O|6 G.O.: ACEKOTU 397 7|. E ' . D . T . . I G A P O S|7 C. : QZ 457 8|= D E ' . . Y O L D . ' T . E|8 9|. . X . . . ' . ' . V . O U P|9 10|. * I . . * . . * O . W * H|10 G.O. TO PLAY AND WIN 11|F I L B E R d . . E E V N . .|11 12|' S I - . . . ' . E . - . . '|12 13|. . T . . . ' . ' . . . - . .|13 14|. B Y W O N E R . * . . . - .|14 15|= . . ' . . T = . . . ' . . =|15 -----------------------------
Gruppetto Okta had set him a pretty problem. He was about to toss it aside. Wait a minute. Okta. Wait a minute. That's it. He sat up, excited. Studied the diagram once more. A smile broke out on his sensuous, heart-shaped lips. He had it. Aggrated with himself, he leaned back in his seat, luxuriating.
Instantly, day became night. Something cold and metallic and blunt was pressing into his neck. A strained unisex voice said, "Don't do anything tardive, Brond, just sit still."
Brond didn't move.
"You underestimate us, Brond," the voice said, "if you think we would allow some ebriated jobernowl of a spy to mux our plans. We would not have gotten this far --"
"Got far, have you?" Brond hoped the voice preferred talking to spewing lead into his noddle.
"Further than you will ever know, lurden. Too bad you wont be around to witness the rest. What we are planning is poetry, pure epopee. A mauvais jackanapes like yourself cannot be allowed to mismetre it."
Brond had tensed himself for all or nothing action. Something made him stop. Mauvais jackanapes. Could it be?
Bracing himself for a slug in the splenius, he slowly turned around. Brond double parked the flimped Buik next to a towaway zone and