”“Cheers,” said Peter.“Mazeltov!”“Scotch,” commented Peter’s father, after downing the shot in the paper cup.Frank Boscow nodded. “I...got to liking it when I was in Da Nang during the war.” Peter looked at him curiously; Frank rarely discussed his Viet Nam service. “The only way to survive that place was drunk or stoned, and I was just too scared to do drugs! It was either bourbon or Scotch, and I didn’t like bourbon.”His counterpart smiled and reached inside his own coat pocket and pulled out a. Is supposed to be dead, why is she still warm?" one of her handlers asked.There were a few seconds of silence, then Beth opened her eyes and tried to get out of the way. If her arms, (my wings!) had been healed and didn't get snagged in the netting, she might have been fast enough...The hiss of a needle gun was the last thing she heard.Jake Hedron was looking at the tiny image of 'Grandpa Frank' as his words filtered through the fifteen national security problems he was already dealing with and. More

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