PREVIEW

... an road, rattling shutters in whitewashed hamlets and carrying the faint reek of burnt hay.

Two covered trucks crawled along the ruts, their black-painted flanks bearing no insignia.

Only mud-caked license plates and a sullen cluster of local Guardia escorts gave any clue they were official at all.

Inside the lead truck, under a canvas rig, wooden crates stenciled with blocky Gothic script were wedged tight in straw.

Rifles, submachine guns, sealed tins of 8mm Mau ...

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