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by Whip Lipsey (Author)
Karloff stands before his prey. Bolas dangle from his waist. A short bow stretches across his chest. A hunting rifle rests in his hands. Rafe can make out a phrase engraved on the stock: Ivan the Terrible."Should we disregard the warnings?""Me, I don't trust the guy. I hate to go on early impressions, but he doesn't seem the honest sort."
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