414:120) king FliNg b
Date: 26-FEB-94  15:55
 The first one to stand and scratch is a Slav, and he folds his arms around
 a clipboard. Standing in the street, he ignores the description of the
 accident, nodding like a cop. The door is unlocked, but he presses his hand
 against the window as I motion to the handle. No need, the hinges are
 bent, I can see that. Solemnly calculating the cost of doing business on
 29th street, and watching the last customer arrive to drive the Mercedes
 home, Yuri intones the figure in dollars as a low hum ranging across four
 digits. I breath cold, wet air, and he waves me into the garage.
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