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A hell of a businesswoman Id be, then Jo I decided a long time ago, Keith, she said stubbornly Ill stay just the way verhaalapart.nl I am, aging and all I like my emotions I need to be able to get angry enough to swat some sonofabitch who needs swatting Stoner knew it was hopeless to argue verhaalapart.nl with her They had been through all this many times before But deep within him, he felt sad that Jo refused his star gift She's not ready for it yet, he told himself Someday, verhaalapart.nl but not yet His star brother asked, If this woman who knows you so intimately refuses the gift, how can you expect the rest of the human race to accept it, verhaalapart.nl when the time comes Stoner had no answer Markov was dying The Russian was in a private room in the best hospital in Moscow, surrounded by the most advanced medical technology and human verhaalapart.nl care that it was possible to give Still he was dying It was a small room, dark and cool with the blinds drawn over the only window Utterly quiet except for the faint verhaalapart.nl humming of the electronic monitors Their screens showed the ragged glowing lines of an old man's struggling heartbeat, respiration rate, brain wave activity There were no wires attached to Markov's body, but verhaalapart.nl he was held in the grip of the medical sensors as firmly as a fly enmeshed in a spider's web He looks so feeble Jo whispered She sat on the only verhaalapart.nl chair in the narrow room, neither noticing nor caring that her long suede coat dragged on the scuffed floor tiles Stoner stood beside her, an obvious American in his denim jacket and eans verhaalapart.nl Markov's ragged white beard was nothing but a wisp now His cheeks were sunken, the skin of his face looked brittle, spiderwebbed with wrinkles and the fine red network of capillaries His large verhaalapart.nl dark eyes, which could flash from somber to hopelessly romantic in an instant, were closed Even his eyebrows are snow-white, Stoner realized And his hair is almost entirely gone Stoner remembered verhaalapart.nl awakening from a sleep of eighteen years in a room such as this But his body had been young and strong Markov's body, beneath the thin sheet covering him, was frail and pitifully verhaalapart.nl thin Stoner stood by the bedside, feeling totally helpless, watching his old friend slowly slip away, sensing the growing weariness of his heart, the fragility of blood vessels stiff and clogged with verhaalapart.nl age, the desperate panic of electricity flickering through his damaged brain If only Stoner choked off that line of thought There's no point to it Im standing here in the verhaalapart.nl middle of all the marvels that modern human beings can create, watching my friend die, as helpless as a Neanderthal in an Ice Age cave Jo sat by the bed, verhaalapart.nl holding Markov's hand For years the Russian had harmlessly pursued her with beautifully romantic speeches that hid the bashfulness of an overgrown boy They had become friends, rather than lovers, verhaalapart.nl and now Jo wept as she felt the old man's fingers growing cold Markov's eyes opened slowly He tried to smile, but the stroke that had paralyzed half his body turned the effort into a grisly rictus He tried to speak, but all that came out was a tortured groan Jo pressed his dying hand to her cheek and sobbed openly Stoner did not touch the Russian physically Instead he reached into Markov's mind --Im here, old friend --Keith?