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. A quick count garnered about twenty. And everyone of them seemed to be either holding or standing next to some sort of machine. And every machine, as far as Raoul could judge machinery, had the potential of being deadly.
"One of these people is going to murder the king," he murmured. "And there is nothing the Royal Guard or anyone can do to stop the assassin, because they will never see it coming. The young king will die, horribly, painfully, and no one will ever know how, why. The assassin will simply walk away."
"Get a shot of that limo!"
The voice belonged to news anchor James M. Warden, instructing his cameraman. The man shifted the vidcam to the limo jet.
The engines shut off. The limo fell back to the ground, with what must have been a bone-jarring jolt for those inside.
"Now," Warden was saying. "I want a shot of the king."
"That's it! The device!" Raoul cried. "Stay here," he ordered the Little One.
Raoul pulled out his lipstick, flipped off the cap. A tiny needle flicked out of the tube. Holding the tube in his hand, careful not to touch the needle, he ran toward the cameraman.
No one, with the possible exception of Xris, would have now recognized the Loft. Raoul's gaze was concentrated, absorbed, intent on his target. He ran lightly, swiftly, his black hair streaming out behind.
He reached the cameraman, could see--in the vidcam's lens--red-golden hair
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