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'Here we are, Major.' Webb opened his eyes, his hand wiping the sweat that had formed on his forehead. He looked at his watch, gripped his briefcase and reached for the handle of the door.
How is he? Pretty bruised, Thorne said. Some gashes. But nothing broken. Head looks bad. Everything hurts, Arby said. Even my mouth.
No point telling anyone else, for who'd believe? But are you all right, my friend? Are you well? Is something bothering you?' 'Me?' Dragosani found himself leaning forward, as if drawn towards Giresci.