The BahamaSprino 1988Plavers 1 & Brian Nathanson glanced behind him. Over the Gulfto the west a full moon was drifting at the edge offront. It made the wake of the boat look like twoquicksilver dissolving in a phosphorescent sea. Or twin silver snakes that kept rising from the watefeet out and followed them wherever they went, nohow he turned the wheel or directed the surging Temp Or a couple of lines of the purest Peruvian white tfatter and and fatter and fatter until they merged and tout in the silver wash of the moonlight. He was hot,skin felt cool in the breeze that bucked over the topwindscreen and beat on his face. It reminded himblinding, sweaty, chilling rush you got from free bas, Of the choice of images, Brian Nathanson liked tbest, given what now lay before them. His eyes fellafterdeck, where the larger of his two crewmen wasbling his weaponry, now pushing .500 sabots into thqazines of a Benelli 90, a slug gun that was configuredautomatic and could shatter armor plate. Uo over the bow the sky wasn t much better, it wa.,
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