Sharon's comment was beyond sarcastic. She was beginning to see some pattern in all the stuff which had happened to her in the last days.
"And I'm sure you people won't use implants, either."
"Actually, we will. Artificial flesh from a Totenkopfsturmtruppen field hospital, slightly modified by us for appearance's
sake."
"From where?"
"The Deaths Heads stormtroopers. Allied elite infantry. Anyway: you will be put to sleep, installed the implants, and be paradropped in the Caribbean Sea
in sixteen hours. You have three days'food supply. Ernesto Che Guevara is currently working as a fisherman near Baradero, on the northern edge of the island.
You may slay him or drown him. Should you want to you are authorized to mae with him, before or after the execution; should you try any tricks, we will also install a microphone on you. And
the standard MiG remote-controller heart attack inducer, of course. It's not that we do not trust you; we all have one."
"It's not like I have much choice anyway, now do I?"
"You don't. Comments are useless. Good night. You will find your gear with you."
The silent Man in Gray suddenly moves his gun and aims at Sharon's left arm. The last thing she sees is a miniature dart neatly entering her biceps and emptying its contents
there.
Sat Jun 26 07:14:53 1999