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... what kind of hell was waiting for him. He lay like that for a long time, tense, sweating, even twitching with nerves. When long minutes went by, then hours, he thrashed about, trying to get even a tiny amount of wiggle-room in his wrists so that he could turn or look behind him. His restraints wouldn’t budge, though, and though he tried, he couldn’t get his head turned far enough to see the guard that was presumably still sitting or standing behind him. He tried to engage the guard in conversati ...

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