I smile coldly, my instincts telling me that there is a beating heart hidden somewhere in the scatter of rubble that marks the building. Sure enough, ... make out a shape, well camouflaged in white and grey. A Russian soldier. With a practiced eye, I center the cross hair on where I discern his head to be, my finger tightening almost imperceptibly on the trigger as I force myself to take a deep breath and hold perfectly still… In that heartbeat, the shape turns, and I can make out a face. A. She couldn'tresist casting a glance at Bernard's crotch as he crouched down to helpher, and was surprised to see a curving mound instead of a masculinebulge. She shook her head, strange how fabric bunched sometimes.Bernard smiled back. "Damn tenured old coots! I wish I could havetheir job. Set for life!" He gazed at Amanda's face. She was asecond generation Greek girl, and had a long and intelligent face, withdark, warm brown eyes, similar to his own. Her olive skin was marredby a spray. More

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