Subject: Re: dermatitis toxicology

From: "Esta Rabago" <[email-masked]>
Date: Fri, 16 Dec 2005 15:50:36 -0500

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tripping him as he fell into the dirt, breaking the thin, taut string.
The second man, slender, tall, dark-featured, with only a fringe of hair
on his bald head, was hard upon the first, pulling him to his feet,
sight or instinct making the second killer wield his automatic weapon in
slashing arcs, cutting the impeding lines across the path to the ledge
that led down to the beach. The third figure appeared. It was not a
woman. It was a man, in the robes of a monk. A priest. It was he. The
Jackal! Bourne rose to his feet and stumbled out of the brush into the
path, the Uzi in his hands; the victory was his, his freedom his, his
family his! As the robed figure reached the top of the primitive
rock-hewn staircase, Jason pressed his trigger finger, holding it in
place, the fusillade of bullets exploding out of the automatic weapon.