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Drop
’
em
on
the
desert
like
that
traitor
said
,
cut
’
em
once
or
twice
,
leave
the
evidence
for
the
worms
.
Nothing
to
clean
up
afterwards
.
”
“
Yeah
.
.
.
well
,
I
guess
you
’
re
right
,
”
Scarface
said
.
Jessica
listened
to
them
,
watching
,
registering
.
But
the
gag
blocked
her
Voice
,
and
there
was
the
deaf
one
to
consider
.
Scarface
holstered
his
lasgun
,
took
her
feet
.
They
lifted
her
like
a
sack
of
grain
,
maneuvered
her
through
the
door
and
dumped
her
onto
a
suspensor
-
buoyed
litter
with
another
bound
figure
.
As
they
turned
her
,
fitting
her
to
the
litter
,
she
saw
her
companion
’
s
face
—
Paul
!
He
was
bound
,
but
not
gagged
.
His
face
was
no
more
than
ten
centimeters
from
hers
,
eyes
closed
,
his
breathing
even
.
Is
he
drugged
?
she
wondered
.
The
troopers
lifted
the
litter
,
and
Paul
’
s
eyes
opened
the
smallest
fraction
—
dark
slits
staring
at
her
.
He
mustn
’
t
try
the
Voice
!
she
prayed
.
The
deaf
guard
!
Paul
’
s
eyes
closed
.
He
had
been
practicing
the
awareness
-
breathing
,
calming
his
mind
,
listening
to
their
captors
.
The
deaf
one
posed
a
problem
,
but
Paul
contained
his
despair
.
