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. He trusted me. I knew ... all his secrets."
Bosk brushed his hand across his eyes, wiped his nose with his fingers. Adonians are a sensitive race, who have a tendency to get maudlin when they're drunk. "I was his confidant. Me. Not those other fops, those pretty boys--fawn'lng and preening. And the women. They were the worst. But he loved me. He loved me."
Bosk drained the glassful of jump-juice.
The stranger nodded. "Yes, that is consistent with my information. Snaga Ohme told you all his secrets. He even told you about his project code-named Negative Waves."
"Maybe, maybe not." Bosk eyed the stranger warily. "You want a drink?"
"No, thank you. Mind if I sit down?"
"Suit yourself." Bosk wandered back to the bottle.
The stranger walked across the small room. Bosk watched him out of the corner of his eye. The stranger's movements were fluid, controlled. He was in excellent physical condition, with a hard-muscled body, good reflexes.
Pity he's not twenty years younger, Bosk thought.
The stranger pulled up a battered metal fold-out chair-one of the few articles of furniture in the apartment. In front of the chair was a computer. A highly sophisticated and expensive personal computer, it looked considerably out of place in the poverty-stricken surroundings. The stranger seated himself in the chair, regarded the computer with admiration
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