text:
London--Oxford Street, Marble Arch
07 August 1517 GMT
The planning was exceptional, the result of two years spent preparing for the action, an operation meant to run like clockwork. And much like clockwork, it nearly failed, simply because men are not machines, and they feel fear.
When it came upon him, it came by surprise. It stole his breath and cramped his stomach, and for an instant he was certain he would wet himself. Just inside the Marble Arch tube stop he balked, the wash of passengers flowing past him in both directions. He felt the uncomfortable pressure of the glass bottles in his backpack, felt the sweat springing to his palms. Adrenaline filled him, made the stink rising from the tunnels all the more rank, the perfumes and deodorants and colognes that much more cloying. The noise of the station, the echoes of the trains and the voices and PA, became almost unbearably loud, adding to the sudden rush of vertigo.
For a second time, he thought he might vomit.
He steadied himself against the wall, closed his eyes, fought to control his breathing. Of all the things he had practiced, of all the things he had envisioned the eleven times he had made this same trip as a dry run, he had never considered this. He had known he would be nervous. He had even acknowledged that he might be scared. But this level of fear was unexpected, and it unmanned him.
Worse, it made him question his faith, and that added a new emotion, a rising sense of shame. He willed himself to walk on, to continue through the turnstiles and onto the escalator and down to the platform, painfully aware that seconds were passing, that the schedule they had so carefully crafted was now in dire jeopardy. And still he couldn't move.
He thought of the others, ready to board trains at Baker Street and Bank, and he was certain that their faith was stronger than any fear. His mind, which had seized, as paralyzed as the rest of him, suddenly snapped into gear once more, began racing with doubt. Even if he did move, they would fail. Even if he did move, it wouldn't work. Even if he did move, he would be stopped before boarding the train, before opening his backpack, and perhaps the others had been stopped already, had been caught already. Perhaps they had talked, and even now, on close-circuit monitors, he was being watched, and the police were beginning to close in upon him.
He prayed, or tried to pray, but the battering his faith had taken was enough to make him feel insincere, and he had no hopes for it. God worked through him and others like him, and everything he did was as God's Will, and wasn't it, then, God's Will that he be weakened in this moment? Wasn't it God's Will--all praise to Him--that he stand here now, lost?
Someone laughed, and he was so certain it was directed at him, that it was mocking him, that his head jerked round in an attempt to find the source.
It was a woman, or a girl almost a woman. Perhaps sixteen, traveling with friends the same age, of both sexes. She was small and slender, with a lovely face and a mouth that, to his eyes, was impossibly large as it opened in her laughter a second time, now shrieking with glee as she batted the hands of one of her male companions reaching for her. A boyfriend, he thought, and watched as the boy wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her through a turnstile. When the boy hoisted her, her skirt crushed between them, accentuating the curve of her maturing hip, the slender strength of her thigh. She twisted in his grip, laughing, and the cotton shirt she wore was trapped between them, the front pulling down slightly, and it revealed cleavage and, against the stretched fabric, the curve of her breasts and shape of her nipples.
Then they were through, moving toward the escalator, and without another instant of hesitation, he followed, his prayer answered, his faith restored.
He had seen it all throughout Europe: women without men to watch and protect them. Women forced to live what was so condescendingly referred to as liberated lives. They worked as clerks and hostesses and teachers to men, their bodies and voices and every movement geared to entertain and to advertise. Even now, riding the long escalator down to the platform with the girl and the boy and their friends only a few meters ahead, he was surrounded by it. Placards and posters advertising clothes and watches and perfumes and liquors and movies. All using women as bait, the promise of their sex, of their surrender. A tease and a temptation, degrading both the subject and the viewer.
How could they not see the danger this posed? How cruel it was to treat them in this fashion? To treat women in this way, to allow them to be used and paraded and corrupted, and in so doing, to make them creatures that could only corrupt others.
It made him angry, restored his strength, made him feel righteous. All of it coming to a point in the form of this girl, at this moment. Surely Pakistani, perhaps born not far from his own home in Kashmir, now standing on the platform with her mouth pressed to the lips of that London boy, her skirt blowing against her leg with the crush of air from the approaching train.
That girl, who could have been a good girl--should have been a proper girl--raised in another place, in proper way. That girl, who would have been contented as one of many wives, protected and nurtured and honored, rather than corrupted in the arms of neglect. Perverted by a myth called liberation, an excuse for indulgence and hedonism, flying in the face of God's Will.
That girl, who could have been his sister, if his sister had not been murdered.
He followed them into the car, entering as close to the front of the train as he could manage, so he would be near the conductor's door and so his back would not be exposed. The train was not so crowded that he could not find a seat, and he removed his backpack before sitting, then set it on the bench beside him, claiming it as his own. He heard the muted clink of the bottles inside as the train began to move again, but he was the only one who heard it, and it did not worry him. Even if it had been heard, it would mean nothing. He was just a young man, just another tourist university student with a backpack, youth hostel-bound, nothing more.
His watch read three-twenty-three, and he saw that his fear--already fading into an embarrassment--hadn't cost him. He was still on schedule.
He prayed the others were, too.
The train squealed, began slowing into the Bond Street station. He waited until the doors slid open and passengers began to move, then used their motion to conceal his own. He opened the backpack just enough to reach inside, found the pistol resting between the two liter bottles of petrol. He wrapped his hand around the butt of the weapon, grateful for the solidity of it in his grip, anchoring him to the moment. It pleased him that his hand no longer perspired.
Doors closed. He looked to find the girl and the boy, and they had stayed aboard. The girl was touching the boy's face, speaking to him, and the boy had placed one hand on her bare knee.
The train took speed again, heading toward Oxford Circus, and as its acceleration crested, he rose, pulling the pistol free from the backpack. His thumb struck the safety, knocking it down, and he raised the gun and imagined himself as he appeared to them, moving with precision and grace, and he felt an indescribable elation.
He shot the girl first.
"Get out!" he screamed. "Get into the next car!"
Then he shot the boy, and then pivoted and shot the middle-aged man surging off a nearby bench, trying to reach him. The motion of the train and the man's own momentum carried him forward, and as the man's body slid to a stop by his feet, he stepped aside, moving his sights across terrified faces, still shouting at them.
"Now!" he screamed. "Get out!" And to urge them, like cattle, he fired again, and again, and there was screaming now, and the passengers were scrambling over each other, pulling on one another to make for the door at the far end of the car. He fired into them, hitting a woman he thought was moving too slowly.
The car emptied, and the train was still swaying, speeding toward the station.
He turned to the closed-circuit camera in the corner above him and put a bullet into it, knowing that it had already witnessed what he had done. If all was to plan, the conductor was already contacting the station, and the station, in turn, had begun its emergency response. The evacuation would have begun, the police been notified, Armed Response Units dispatched.
All to plan.
With his free hand, he reached into the backpack and removed the first bottle, turning and throwing it down the length of the carriage. It shattered on a metal handrail, glass bursting, petrol splashing, its scent sudden and almost sweet. He took the second bottle and threw it against the conductor's door, where it smashed. Petrol spattered on his pants and arms, sloshed across the floor, saturating the clothes of the wounded man at his feet.
He heard the door from the adjoining carriage open, and he fired without looking, not caring who, or even if, he hit. The gun was almost empty, but the gun had never been the weapon, only a tool. Even the petrol was only a tool.
As he had been taught, he was the weapon.
He reached into the backpack a final time for the box of matches. He tucked the pistol into his pants and opened the box quickly. The door at the far end opened again, and he knew they were coming to stop him, seeing this moment as their opportunity, or perhaps realizing what would happen next. He fumbled the matchbox in his excitement, the wooden sticks spilling onto the floor. He heard cursing and shouting, but it didn't matter, he had a match in his hand, now, and with a stroke it was alive, and he let it fall.
The air around him moved, heated, and he saw flame race the floor of the car, eating the petrol, taking purchase, growing hotter. The man at his feet made a noise as he caught on fire, and he glanced down to see that his own clothes had also caught, felt the fire climbing his body. He looked the length of the carriage, saw that the flames now held the others at bay, felt the flames sear his skin as his shirt caught.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the blackness of the tunnel open to the harsh light of the station.
He pulled the gun from his waist, put the barrel in his mouth, and pulled the trigger.
It happened again three minutes later, on the Bakerloo Line, as the train pulled into Piccadilly Circus.
And again, seven minutes after that, on the Northern Line, at King's Cross.
When the final numbers were in, the death toll stood at three hundred and seventy-two. Very few of these fatalities came from direct contact with the terrorists, all three of whom had used essentially the same technique: the gun as the instrument of terror, to empty the car and to buy time; the petrol as the primary mechanism of attack, to set the trains aflame and to force them to stop on the tracks.
As anticipated, the Underground suffered from not one but two weaknesses, and the terrorists had exploited both. The first was that, at any given time on the tube, there were more trains in motion than there were stations to receive them. A station closure, therefore, or an instance of track blockage would result in multiple trains stacking up between stations. If those trains were then forced to evacuate their passengers, the evacuees faced walks of varying lengths through the tunnels until they could reach appropriate access back to street level. With most of the tunnels one hundred feet or more beneath street level, it made for quite a trek.
In and of itself not life-threatening, but certainly an added complication for riders and rescue teams, should the situation ever arise.
It was the second weakness that made the situation not simply life-threatening but a death trap. The Underground had no mechanical means to circulate air, fresh or otherwise. No air-conditioning. No fans. Air moved through the tunnels and the stations as a result of the movement of the trains, forcing dead air up and out at stops and other ventilation points, sucking new air into its wake.
While the cars on the Underground were constructed with fire-resistant and fire-retardant materials, gasoline can ignite dirt. With three trains set ablaze on the three busiest London lines, all within minutes of one another, the tube had come to a violent and convulsive halt. Cars evacuated into tunnels that swiftly filled with roiling clouds of dense black smoke, an orgy of burning plastics that in turn spawned their own toxic gases. While counterterrorist and emergency service personnel responded as best they could, as fast as they could, civilians succumbed to the lethal mixture of poisonous air and their own panic.
King's Cross, which had seen a fatal fire in 1987 that claimed thirty lives, suffered the worst, as dozens of riders were trampled to death in the panicked attempt to flee the station.
An added tragedy came to light in late August, when The Guardian ran an article citing an uncirculated report commissioned by the Home Office through the Security Services at the request of the Government. The report had been undertaken specifically to determine what, if any, exploitable weaknesses existed in the public transport systems in and around London, and it had concluded that the Underground--despite massive counterterrorism measures taken in the past--was still vulnerable to "a coordinated attack directed against those traits unique to the system."
Further investigation revealed that this document had actually enjoyed limited circulation and support, until it was killed by a senior civil servant in the Home Office, who had unfortunately given his reasons in writing. "While the report is admirable in its concern," he had written, "it fails to take into account the difficulties, both financially and in terms of public discomfort and inconvenience, that a retrofitting of the Underground would require. Given the unlikelihood of such a coordinated effort as described, and the pointlessness of the result of such speculative mass murder, the author's suggestions shall be set aside until
such time as action becomes feasible."
It was a peculiarity to those in Tara Chace's line of work, their habits and hobbies, the things they would obsess upon in lieu of family and friends.
Tom Wallace, for instance, had put his passion into cars, specifically into the Triumph, and more precisely into the Triumph Spitfire MK I, 1962 model year.Wallace had, in the years Chace had known him, acquired four of the vehicles. He had tenderly restored each, enjoying its comfort and power in his free time, then sold the previous to make room for the next. He hunted the Triumph online and in newspapers, engaged in long, enthusiast correspondence with others of the Triumph religion, and generally poured every pound and pence not vital to his day-to-day existence into the hobby.
The late Edward Kittering had shared Wallace's lust for internal combustion, but in his case it had been motorcycles, and like Wallace, he'd been a devotee of a particular make and model, the Buell Thunderbolt. Kittering had been in the Section almost three years before his death from an apparent brain aneurysm, and in that time she'd seen him go through five bikes, and ridden two of them herself. They were, in her opinion, nothing more than two wheels ornamented with an overactive engine and a saddle, an opinion Kittering had often mocked her for voicing. He had been a far less discriminating collector than Wallace, his only criterion that the motorcycle be built prior to 1996, when the Harley-
Davidson purchase of Buell had led to a redesign of the bike, and the motorcycle had "gotten all nice and proper like," in Kittering's words.
Chace had inherited the last of Kittering's bikes, a black and yellow 1995 Thunderbolt S2T that made her feel like a wasp whenever she rode it. She didn't ride it often, traffic in London being a perpetual nightmare and public transport being more than sufficient to service most of her needs. The Thunderbolt was expensive as well; on those rare occasions when she did ride it, it would invariably break down. Whereas Kittering had the patience and interest to tinker with the vehicle, Chace could hardly be bothered.
But she kept the motorcycle anyway, because it was one of her only links to Kittering, and because in the year before he died, they had been lovers. The affair had ended badly, with Chace breaking Kittering's heart. His death had left many things unresolved, and so she kept the bike, and hoped that in doing so it would bring more closure than grief.
Nick Poole, the current Minder Two, was a passionate cook. The kitchen of his Spice Quay flat, in the shadow of Tower Bridge, had been renovated with restaurant-grade appliances. Poole invested in only the finest cookware and tried --- generally in vain, due to the unreliable schedule of their work --- to grow his own herbs for seasoning. He took cooking classes, read cookbooks, and was zealous in his pursuit of "the fresh."The week after Wallace had departed the Section, leaving Chace as Minder One and Poole suddenly elevated to Minder Two, he'd invited her over for a dinner of sole paupiette with crab and smoked salmon mousseline, watching her like a hawk until she'd taken her first bite. The meal had been extraordinary, as fine as any Chace had tasted when she'd run alongside the Sloanes and their wealth, and her praise of the dinner had done more for her relationship with Poole than any interaction they'd had in the office or in the field.
As for Chris Lankford, Minder Three --- Provisional, he was still too new to the Section for Chace to have discovered his particular passion, though she was certain he had one. She guessed it was something boring, perhaps philately.
Chace herself had survived the Section for a couple of years without adopting an obsession of her own, not seeing the need for one. She had been wrong and, in the wake of Kittering's death, had reached a moment of clarity. Even as a child, her desire for self-abuse had been dangerous and acute, based less in the physical than in the emotional. She had been a rule-breaker, a discipline problem, and what past lovers had charitably described as a "wild spirit," an appellation Chace herself detested. She smoked and drank and, upon entering university, had discovered sex, three things she had pursued with the same passion that Wallace, Kittering, and Poole directed toward their hobbies. But without the same rewards, enjoyment, or results to show for it.
It was after the breakup with Kittering that Chace had come to the conclusion that, perhaps, such self-abuse was counterproductive. Certainly, arriving in the Ops Room for a crash briefing at oh–three hundred carrying a hangover or, worse, a drunk wasn't going to help her career prospects. And the less said about what it would do to a mission, the better. These things, combined with a warning from the Madwoman of the Second Floor --- staff psychiatrist Dr. Eleanor Callard --- that should such behavior continue, Chace could find herself confined to a desk if not out of a job, served as a wake-up call.
"Find a hobby," Callard had urged her, "preferably one where you don't punish yourself for sins you haven't committed."
"May I still punish myself for the ones that I have?" Chace had asked sweetly.
"By all means."
It had taken Chace a while to find something that would engage her. As a girl, her mother had taken great pains to see her educated in a "proper" fashion, including piano lessons, ballet lessons, and riding lessons. Chace had loathed it all when she was six, and now at thirty-one, she discovered that nothing had occurred in the intervening time to alter that assessment. Unlike Poole, she had no interest in cooking, and her kitchen was merely the room where take-away was moved from a paper sack onto a porcelain plate, and even then it was most likely to be eaten straight from the container while she stood over the sink. Unlike Wallace, her interest in automobiles was entirely professional. She knew enough to break into them, to hot-wire them, to drive them much too fast, to use them to kill people without getting herself killed in the process, and, sometimes, should the situation warrant it, to travel in them from Point A to Point B.
It ended there.
Finally, she'd decided to try painting, resurrecting a dim memory from her boarding-school days at Cheltenham Ladies' College. Not with oils or watercolors and palettes and easels, as she had learned, but with great sections of canvas spread on the floor or tacked to the wall, and pails of paint to spatter, drip, drizzle, and smear. She had no aspirations to be Jackson Pollock and at best considered her work to be more Modern Accident than Modern Expressionism. She had no idea if she had any talent for painting at all, in fact, but she discovered that she did, indeed, enjoy it, to a degree that truly surprised her. It was the main reason she had moved to Camden, to have more space in which to paint. The sensuality of it, in particular, appealed to her, the indulgence of the paint on her hands and its scent clinging to the back of her throat, the feel of the canvas as it drew color away from her fingers. She could lose herself in the activity for hours, and her mind could relax as her body worked, her clothes peppered with splatters, her trainers caked with paint.
And this is why Tara Chace was up to her elbows in grasshopper green when she learned that terrorists had attacked London.
"Duty Ops Officer.Minders to the Ops Room, black, I repeat, black."
Chace adjusted the handset between her ear and shoulder, hastily swiping her hands down the front of her shirt, trying to clean the paint from them. The thought that this was a drill flickered through her mind, but it was gone before she could even entertain it, defeated in the subconscious acquisition of detail. One, there was strain in Ron's voice, and not once in four years while Ronald Hodgson had worked the Duty Operations Desk had Chace ever heard that before; two, the background noise was not the usual low murmur of voices in the Ops Room but the frantic sound of motion, of voices calling for attention, information, assistance.
And three, black meant bad. Black meant about as bad as it could get, on the scale of "we're at war" or "a royal has been kidnapped" or "we've lost a nuke" bad.
"Confirmed, twenty minutes," Chace said.
"Twenty minutes," Ron echoed, and he cut the connection, but Chace had already reseated the phone in its cradle and was halfway to the remote control. She flicked the television on with one hand, raising the volume so the sound could follow her as she pivoted back to the bedroom, already stripping off her shirt and tossing it aside. She pulled a new one from the pile of dirty laundry at the foot of the bed, struggling into it as she searched her unmentionables drawer for the keys to Kittering's bike.
She was out the door sixteen seconds later, still tucking the shirt in, and had unlocked the Thunderbolt and brought the engine to life before her mind fully processed the voices of the reporters and the coverage she had overheard. She didn't know the details, but she'd caught enough to know it was most likely terrorism, and it was London, and it was bad. She drove with those things in mind, grateful for once that Kittering had left a motorcycle and not a dog, using the bike to snake through snarled traffic, to quick-turn from roadblocked streets, and twice to drive on the pavement. Even with all that, it took her almost an hour exactly to reach the Ops Room.
Chace entered thinking that enough time had passed, surely the chaos she'd heard over Ron's call would have abated. It hadn't.
At its worst, she'd never seen the Operations Room looking like this. The monitor wall, plasma screens with a glowing map of the world that normally presented an up-to-the-minute accounting of all active SIS operations everywhere on the planet, was in schizophrenic disorder. Patches of BBC and Sky News and CNN jumped on the wall, voices from professionally calm to practically shrill seeped from the speakers, mixed in the din of radio reports and the calls of the Ops Room staff, runners crisscrossing the room, papers or maps or telephones in their hands, trying to track it all. Only the U.K. remained uncovered on the map, a bright red halo tracing the country, a gold dot pulsing on London.
At Duty Operations, Ron was juggling three phones at once, his coms headset bouncing against his chest, dangling from the wire clipped to his shirt. Sweat had soaked his collar, wilting it around his neck, and when he caught sight of Chace, he used his left elbow to indicate the map table at the far side of the room, still balancing his multiple conversations.
Helmet still in hand, Chace plunged into the room, making for the map table where Poole and Lankford already waited. She glanced back toward the plasma wall, saw Alexis at Main Communications, where she was matching Ron move for move with her own phones, then swept her gaze around farther until she realized she was looking for Tom Wallace, and that she wouldn't be finding him.
Tom wasn't Minder One. She was.
"What the fucking hell happened?" she demanded of Poole as she reached the table, dropping her helmet into the nearest empty chair.
"We've been hit," Lankford said.
"I bloody know we've been hit, I figured out we've been hit, I'm asking what the fucking hell happened?"
"It's still coming in," Poole told her, indicating the plasma wall. "Best anyone's made out, we had three terrorist strikes within minutes of each other, started roughly fifteen-thirty, all of them on the Underground. Central, Northern, and Bakerloo, Oxford, Piccadilly, and King's Cross, respectively."
"Nerve agent?"
"No, it's not a Tokyo scenario," Lankford said.
"They bomb them, what?"
"Fire," Poole said. "In the tunnels, at the stations. Hard to tell just how bad, but there're reports of people being trampled at the stations, asphyxiating on the tracks."
Chace nodded, fixating on the wall, trying to see everything at once. Images of bodies being carried from station entrances, soot- and smoke-stained passengers with oxygen masks pressed to their tear-streaked faces, of dead firefighters and rescue workers laid out in lines on the pavement, being covered with opaque plastic sheets. Men and women, young and old, and children, in all of London's colors and diversity. Curling clouds of black smoke, so thick she thought she could see the oil in it, billowing from tube vents, rising over Oxford Circus.
A sudden perversity struck her, watching the multiple television images of the disaster, that this was happening just minutes away. She'd been on Oxford Street the night before, Selfridges and the Marks & Spencer, before heading home.
By tube, of course.
"Who's claiming it?" Chace asked.
"No one," said Poole. He looked at her with a grim smile. "Yet."
She nodded slightly, scanning the wall, searching for any new facts to absorb. There were none, and she realized that both Poole and Lankford were watching her, waiting for the next move, the next step.
"We won't have marching orders until Crocker's done with C," she told them. "And probably not even then. Crisis call, they brought us in while waiting for another shoe to drop."
"Follow-up strikes?" Lankford asked.
"Well, that's one possibility, isn't it, Chris?" she said. "Three in one go, there could be more waiting in the wings."
"Immediate panic dies down, then everyone holds their breath waiting for the next one," Poole agreed."Could be tomorrow, next week, who knows."
"If there's more coming at all."
Lankford scowled at Chace, then Poole, then at the plasma wall. "So what do we do in the meantime?"
"Nothing," Chace said.
Lankford stared at her, and Chace wasn't certain if it was outrage or simple impatience she was seeing in his expression. She wasn't certain she cared, either. All of twenty-six, an inch or so taller than Chace's five foot ten, black hair and blue eyes that combined with a lack of distinctive features to make him a perfect "gray man," as they were called in the trade. Nothing about Chris Lankford leaped out upon first impression, or upon fifth, for that matter. But he had the energy about him, not of youth, but rather of inexperience. It charged him, made his engine race, made him want to leap into the breach, and might, Chace mused, get him killed sooner rather than later.
She recognized it, because she had arrived in the Section with it herself. With more of it, in fact. A woman in the Special Section, she had come in believing she had a lot to prove. It had taken almost a year before she understood that arriving in the first place had been proof enough.
Still, Lankford worried her, and this ill-concealed hunger for revenge only added to her concerns. He'd had one go into the field since being named Minder Three, hence his provisional status. It had been in St. Petersburg, six weeks back, and he'd gone with Chace as her backup, and had failed dismally at the outset, only to redeem himself --- marginally --- later in the op. Whether he knew it or not, Lankford was on thin ice with Chace and, worse, with D-Ops.
"Nothing," Chace repeated. "Unless you know something you're not sharing with Nicky and me, Chris?"
He took it in, the frustration visible, then let it go with a shake of his head and turned back to watch the plasma screens.
"You two get down the Pit," Chace told Poole. "I'll go up to the Boss's office, wait for him there."
"Bench-warming?" Poole asked.
"You could go through the circulars these past six months, see if D-Int dropped anything that might point a finger."
"Will do."
"For whatever good it'll be worth," Lankford groused. "Bit too late to act on it, don't you think?"
"Not if there's another one coming," Chace said and, scooping up her helmet, headed for the lift and the sixth floor.
London --- Vauxhall Cross, Office of the Chief of Service
07 August 1720 GMT
at 85 Albert Embankment,Vauxhall Cross, had many names, and few of them were complimentary. Five stories deep, towering over the Thames behind triple-paned glass and electronic countermeasures, crammed with fiber optics and copper wire, protected by gates and guards and more surveillance than even the most paranoid pedestrian could imagine, it was considered by many to be an eyesore, and far too ostentatious to house M16. Disparagingly referred to as Babylon-on-Thames, or the Ceaus¸escu Towers, or --- Paul Crocker's personal favorite --- Legoland, it had an interior that was a maze of white corridors and nondescript doors with only the barest departmental labeling, part of the ever-present attempt to maintain secrecy in a Service that still winced whenever it hired anyone named Guy, Donald, or, worst of all, Kim.
It worked, and more than one fresh-faced officer, new to the Firm, had found himself lost in the halls and in dire need of direction.
The nicest office, situated just below the top floor, belonged to the Chief of Service, currently Sir Francis Barclay or, in keeping with the tradition established by Mansfield Cumming in 1922, C. From the hall, it looked as nondescript as any other in the building. Inside the outer office, it had desks for not one but three personal assistants. But once one went through and into the inner office, everything changed, as if all pretension to modernity had been rejected in favor of those good old days when spying was deemed a Gentlemen's Game. Thick Oriental carpet and a mahogany desk that could keep eight afloat should the Thames burst its banks, three modestly comfortable leather-backed chairs arrayed to face it, and its larger brother positioned behind, to make certain everyone seated knew their place in the room. A separate sitting area off to the side with two couches, two armchairs, and a coffee table. A sidebar heavy with crystal glasses and decanters, and the mandatory door leading to the private washroom, which, rumor held, contained not only the toilet but also a shower and a whirlpool bath.
Paul Crocker hated the office.
Sitting on the far right as he faced the desk, with Deputy Chief of Service Donald Weldon to his immediate left, and Weldon himself flanked by Crocker's opposite number, Simon Rayburn, the Director of Intelligence, Crocker thought the only thing he hated more than the office was the man seated opposite him.
"The bloody Harakat ul-Mujihadin?" Barclay asked, incredulous. "Are you certain?"
"The Abdul Aziz faction, we think," Rayburn replied calmly. He was a small man, slight and drawn, and his voice was the same, and Crocker often had to strain to hear him when Rayburn spoke. "But it's only a working theory. The tape offers nothing to disprove it."
"But it doesn't prove it, either?"
"Not conclusively, no, sir."
"Where did it come from?"
Weldon slid forward in his seat, saying, "The BBC, sir. Delivered to them via messenger shortly before the first train was hit."
"The BBC had advance warning, and they neglected to pass it on?"
"The timing is in question," Rayburn said. "They didn't know what they had, and before anyone could review the tape, the events of the day overtook them. As soon as they realized what they were looking at, they handed it over to the Home Office."
"It's a wonder it made it to us at all," Barclay mused, and despite himself, Crocker found himself in agreement. The Home Office/Foreign Office rivalry was well known and ongoing and extended to an intense rivalry between the Security Services and SIS.
A rivalry that justly took a backseat in light of the day's events.
"Well, let's see it," Barclay said impatiently.
All four men turned in their seats to face the screen hanging on the far wall, above the sidebar. Rayburn targeted the screen with the remote in his hand, and a still frame of a young Pakistani male --- Crocker didn't put him a day over twenty --- flickered to life, standing in front of a bare white plaster wall. The man wore khakis and a blue short-sleeved button-up shirt, and dirty white sneakers. Behind him, resting against the wall, was a well-used backpack, navy blue with black straps, and beside it what appeared to be a shallow stack of cardboard sheets, propped upright.
"I'm not hearing anything," Barclay said. "Why am I not hearing anything?"
"No audio, sir," Rayburn answered. "Only the video. If you'll note, they've done an exceptionally good job staging this. The background tells us almost nothing about where this was shot, or even when."
"They? How many?"
"At least two, sir --- the man we're watching, and someone behind the camera. Here, you'll see."
Rayburn moved his thumb, and the image went into motion, the young man kneeling to open the backpack, turning it toward the camera, demonstrating that it was empty. Then he rose and reached with both hands for something off screen. He returned to the backpack and set two clear glass liter bottles on the floor, then reached toward the camera a second time. A hand, presumably the cameraman's, entered the frame and handed the young man a metal funnel. The hand had a similar skin tone, and Crocker supposed it was another Pakistani, perhaps, but that was only a guess. If it was the Harakat ul-Mujihadin, their ranks were filled with Kashmiri refugees as well as Arab elements. Composition of the Abdul Aziz faction was less known, but Crocker suspected that it drew recruits from many of the same locations.
On the screen, the young man was now filling the bottles, using a red jerry can and the funnel.
"Petrol?" Barclay asked.
"Presumably," Rayburn said."There aren't many liquids more flammable, and it's easy enough to acquire. Which may be the point in showing us this."
The young man set the jerry can aside, then screwed a cap onto each bottle. Finished, he placed the bottles upright into the backpack, then rose again and reached in the direction of the camera. The same hand presented him with a pistol, then with a clip, and then with a box of ammunition.
"The gun is an FN P-35, for the record," Rayburn said softly.
"Thank you, Simon," Barclay said dryly.
Crocker frowned, looked toward Rayburn, and saw that the Director of Intelligence was glancing to him in turn. It made Crocker's frown deepen. The FN P-35 was known more commonly as the Browning Hi-Power, a popular enough firearm to those who used it, and in and of itself, nothing more needed to be noted. Except the fact that the Browning was the sidearm of choice for the Special Air Service, and while the gun itself was produced by Fabrique Nationale, a Belgian concern, and named after an American gunmaker --- John M. Browning --- there were many who thought of the weapon as Very British Indeed.
The young man was very deliberately loading the clip, one round at a time, to capacity. When he finished, he closed the box of ammunition, slid it away, and seated the clip into the pistol. Then he racked the slide, chambering the first round, and set the safety.
"Interesting," Crocker said.
"Yes," Rayburn murmured.
Weldon turned in his chair, looking first to Crocker, then to Rayburn, confused. Opposite him, Rayburn tapped on the desk.
"Very practiced, sir," Crocker said. "He knows just what he's doing with that weapon."
"One would expect as much."
"No one wouldn't, not necessarily." Crocker tried to keep his tone civil. "A suicide bomber doesn't need training, sir, he needs indoctrination. You put him in a madrassa and fill his head as full of Wahhabism as it can hold. You tell him he's got Allah and infinite virgins waiting for him on the other side. But you don'tworry about training him as a fighter, because it's a waste of both your time and his. His job is to wear a bomb and die in the name of God, and your job is to make sure he does just that and doesn't have second thoughts along the way. You don't worry about training him in the proper usage of a firearm."
"You're reaching, Paul," Barclay objected. "That boy isn't older than twenty, and God knows there are plenty of ten-year-olds on the Subcontinent who know their way around guns. Paki, from the looks of him, too. Probably fought in Kashmir."
"I agree, sir," Crocker said.
"Then you see my point."
"And you've made mine. If he's a Kashmiri veteran, why waste him on a suicide run?"
"You'll want to pay attention to this next bit," Rayburn said, gently enough that Crocker wasn't certain who was being admonished.
The young man had finished loading the backpack, leaving it open, and now was taking up the cardboard that had remained propped against the wall. He got to his feet once more and, holding the cardboard sheets against his chest, began showing them, one at a time, to the camera. The writing on each sheet was clear, all caps, written in black marker. The first read:
"No, it isn't," Weldon muttered, annoyed. "There is no Sixth Pillar of Islam."
"Wahhabism at its best," Rayburn agreed.
The young man let the first card drop, turning the second to the camera. The man's expression, Crocker noted with some alarm,wasn't much different from the look his wife, Jenny, wore when she was teaching preschoolers.
The card dropped, and the third was turned.
"Mushrikun?" Barclay asked.
"Polytheists," Rayburn said.
"Since when has C of E been polytheism?"
"Since God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost entered Christian dogma, sir. But it's not the C of E that's being targeted here. Wahhabist doctrine indicts capitalism as a form of polytheism, the love of money being akin to worship, etc., etc. The wealth of the West, namely the First World, versus the poverty everywhere else."
The fourth card was presented:
"Veiled reference to Israel, perhaps," Rayburn said. "Perhaps an oil reference as well, possibly directed at our presence in Iraq specifically, the Middle East generally."
The man raised the fifth card.
"The English translation of Harakat ul-Mujihadin," Rayburn said.
"Also can be the 'movement' of holy warriors."
The last card was raised to the camera.
The young man turned the card and kissed it, then folded it along the middle and slid it into the backpack, between the bottles of petrol. He zipped the backpack closed, then settled it onto his shoulders before walking out of the frame. The camera remained focused on the empty wall, then went to static.
Rayburn switched off the monitor, and Crocker and Weldon turned with him to face Barclay once more. Barclay remained focused on the dead monitor, brow furrowed, and Crocker wondered what, exactly, his C was thinking. Much as he detested Barclay, Crocker couldn't --- and wouldn't --- deny the man's intelligence.
"Why no audio?" Barclay asked after a moment. "Why not simply tell us who they are and what they're doing? Why the signs?"
"No clues," Crocker said.
Barclay looked at him sharply. "Are you editorializing, or is that an answer?"
"They didn't want to leave us anything we could use, sir."
"I agree with Paul," Rayburn said. "The whole production is designed to give us only the barest essentials, and even then to leave several questions unanswered. There's no way to tell when the video was shot. The presumption is that it was made this morning sometime, but it could easily have been shot three months ago, and we'd be none the wiser. My people have yet to do an in-depth analysis, but I'll stake my job that they won't pull anything we can use, sir."
"No ambient noise, no way to target their safehouse," Weldon mused. "No idea where they're working from, or if there are more of them waiting somewhere in London."
Barclay waved a manicured hand at Weldon. "That's Box's problem, thankfully, not ours."
"It's all our problem if there are others set to do it again," Crocker said.
"Domestic issues, it falls under the Home Office and the Security Services. Our problem at the moment is what, exactly, do I tell the Prime Minister when he summons me back to Downing Street? I cannot go to him four hours after the fact and say we're still exploring leads. The Government is already desperate to formulate a response, and an appropriate response, and that cannot happen without a target."
Crocker resisted the instinct to wince at Barclay's words. It was a given that HMG would respond, and Crocker believed not only in the right to retaliate but in the necessity to do so. But for Crocker, any response would be as a necessity of security, would have to demonstrate not only to the enemy who had attacked them on their own soil, but to those other enemies watching and waiting in the wings, that such violence would not go unanswered. It was an issue of domain, of self-defense, not one of vengeance, and Barclay's choice of words confirmed Crocker's suspicion that his C could not discern a difference.
It was only one of the legion of problems Crocker had with Barclay, both professionally and personally.
While Crocker had entered SIS out of the Army in the late hours of the cold war, Barclay had come in through the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. While Crocker had begun his career in the Special Section as a Minder, Barclay had begun behind a desk in London, then moved to other desks, abroad, until he had become Head of Station in Prague. It was in Prague that the two men first encountered each other, though they had never actually met face-to-face during Operation: Landslide. Instead, all of Crocker's contact had been through the Prague Number Two, Donald Weldon, the man now seated to his left.
History, Crocker mused, is a hamster wheel.
Prague had gone horribly wrong, Crocker had been shot, the man he'd been sent to retrieve murdered by the Czech army as he'd tried to break through the fence at the border. Crocker blamed Barclay for abandoning not just the operation but the agents involved. Barclay blamed Crocker for playing cowboys and Indians with both the KGB and the Czech SSB.
What Weldon thought of the whole affair, he'd never said.
Crocker's largest problem with Barclay --- and he was about to see it in action yet again, he was certain --- was that his new C was too susceptible to the whims of Government, as opposed to the needs of the Firm. After Prague, Barclay had gone on to a position in Washington, D.C., liaising with American Intelligence on the political level, and from there parlayed his way onto the Joint Intelligence Committee and, ultimately, to a seat at the head of the table. It affected how Barclay saw SIS, its capabilities, and its mandate. At his core, C believed in Intelligence above all else.
Which left Operations to stand outside like an unwelcome guest, until all hell was breaking loose and Crocker and his Minders were asked to pick up the pieces.
But Barclay's devotion to Intelligence had come back to haunt him today. If there was blame to be laid, it was there, and not in Operations.
"How certain are we that it's the HUM-AA and not some other organization?" Barclay asked.
"Based on what we've seen on this tape?" Rayburn said."Not certain at all. But there are signifiers that point to the organization. The phrasing and the rhetoric. Everything we've seen is extraordinarily deliberate, from the choice of words to the order in which the cards were shown, right down to the heart of the message."
"The HUM signed bin Laden's 1998 fatwa?"
"Yes, sir. War against the U.S., the West, Jews, and Christians. The whole package."
Barclay grunted, then swiveled his chair away from the desk, putting himself into profile. No doubt rehearsing his presentation to the Cabinet,
Crocker thought.
"Who leads the HUM?" Barclay asked.
"Farooq Kashmiri," Crocker said. "But if this is the Abdul Aziz faction, then it's led by Sheikh Abdul Aziz Sa'id."
Barclay's head came around quickly, and he narrowed his look on
Crocker. "Not the other one, what's his name? Not Dr. Faud?"
"Dr. Faud bin Abdullah al-Shimmari has no direct ties to any terrorist organization," Rayburn said."He is still considered to be a spiritual leader and a respected imam,Wahhabist rhetoric aside. That said, the message as relayed was pure Faud, right down to the phrasing and, indicatively, the omission at the end."
" 'There is but One God, and Muhammad is His Prophet.' Faud leaves the last bit out, in opposition of conventional Islamic belief.Again, it's pure Wahhabism, sir, the belief that naming Muhammad in prayer is akin to praying to Muhammad."
"And hence an act of polytheism," Weldon added.
"Is Faud linked to al-Qaeda?"
"The fatwa, nothing more," Crocker said. "At the most, the only connection to bin Laden is that the same Wahhabism factors into HUM-AA ideology."
"But isn't that precisely the situation with UBL?" Barclay asked, turning
his chair back to face his deputies and now leaning forward, resting
his arms on his desk. "No direct link to terrorist action other than by association?"
"No, sir. UBL leads al-Qaeda. There is no evidence that Faud has any presence in the HUM hierarchy, or any organization's hierarchy, for that matter."
"D-Int has just said otherwise."
"He's speaking of rhetoric."
"That rhetoric may have been directly responsible for what's happened on the Underground today, Crocker."
To his left, Crocker saw Weldon shift uncomfortably with the escalating tension. Rayburn stayed still, listening and reserving comment.
"We're getting ahead of ourselves, sir," Crocker said, trying to change tack. "We cannot begin to formulate an operational response before we know the facts of what's happened."
"You're normally quite eager to task Minders to the field."
"With clear conops, yes, when it is clearly identified Special Operation, yes. But at this moment, you'd have me sending the Minders to Kashmir on the hint of a whisper."
There was a moment of quiet while Barclay considered his responses, and the intercom on his desk took the opportunity to cry out for attention. He pressed the key with a manicured finger, listened as one of his assistants told him that his car was ready to take him back to Downing Street.
"I'll be right down," Barclay said, then came off the intercom, settling his attention on Crocker. "When it comes, it will be a Special Op, make no mistake. And when it comes, when the Government presents you with conops --- whatever that concept of operations may be --- I will not abide argument or hesitation. I will expect my Director of Operations to implement HMG's orders immediately, and to see the mission through to its completion. Are we clear?"
"Quite clear, sir."
"There will have to be retaliation," Barclay said, rising. "When the PM asks me who is responsible for this, I want to be able to answer him in no uncertain terms, and saying the Harakat ul-Mujihadin won't be enough. Whether it's Faud or someone else, I want names. If you have to go to the Brothers to get names, do it. This is priority."
Barclay adjusted his tie and coat, and the other men rose, waiting for him to lead the way out of the office. Crocker took up the rear, and before he exited, Barclay rested a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
"I won't have you fighting me on this," Barclay said softly. "Not on this."
"We don't know what 'this' is yet," Crocker said. "Sir."
Barclay straightened, the smile thin on his bland face, his lips stretched, almost colorless. "This is your only warning. If you're wise, you'll heed it."
Then Barclay passed through the door, leaving Crocker to follow.
Excerpted from A GENTLEMAN'S GAME © Copyright 2004 by Greg Rucka. Reprinted with permission by Bantam, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved.


text:
Northop Hall Country House Hotel and its nine acres of private grounds make a perfect setting for corporate breaks and team-building exercises.
Get the adrenalin pumping and give yourself a day to remember with our action packed activities, developing exciting innovative and quality programme's for staff recognition and team building. We offer a range of traditional country sports as well as class room based activities which will revolve around each clients individual objectives set prior to the event. Our team of professional staff will design a program & deliver a day that ensures that you return to work satisfied having achieved your goals while also giving the group a fun experience.
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subset: commoncrawl


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My Hero: Firefighter
The Nintendo DS stylus becomes a hose, axe, and extendable ladder in My Hero: Firefighter. Players must drive fire engines swiftly and safely through crowded city streets and react quickly to house fires, chemical explosions, and forest fires in 13 hazardous missions. By putting out raging fires and courageously saving people and animals, players earn awards for their bravery, move up the ranks to Captain, and acquire upgraded trucks and equipment. Players also learn real fire-safety tips and how to react appropriately in dangerous situations.
If you're stuck in My Hero: Firefighter, ask your fellow GameFAQs members for help.
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text:
AUBURN, Ala. (WIAT) – The Auburn Tigers still celebrating their 1st Iron Bowl victory since 2010, but a different kind of emotion for the Alabama Crimson Tide. Players visibly emotional and upset after the game, especially senior wide receiver Kevin Norwood.
"We're always confident we'll get a win, but like I said, I mean the chances of that happening in college football is rare. It happened tonight. They got it by luck and whatever," says Norwood.
"Pretty much everybody's in shock, especially on the defensive part because we gave up that last touchdown," says senior linebacker C.J. Mosley.
"I didn't see that coming at all. I was down there, ten yards from him," explains senior offensive lineman Anthony Steen, "He cut to my right and the next thing I know, I'm watching him run down the sideline.. Just kept going."
"It's almost like a video game, and that's something you do on Madden or NCAA. It's just a wild play," says senior quarterback AJ McCarron.
But players are looking forward. "It was hard to take a loss like that. But that's life, you win some, you lose some," says Mosley.
"Like I told the guys – you know, hold your head up high, and be thankful for everything we've got," says McCarron, "We're a hungry team. It doesn't matter, you know, one loss. Yeah we hate it, but the world's not ending right now. We'll be ready to play."
Now the chances of a national championship three-peat – not so crystal clear for the Tide. They'll find out their bowl game destination in one week.
Copyright 2013 WIAT-CBS42


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We look forward to helping you plan your happily ever after.
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Season 6 of The Real Housewives of New Jersey will feature new blood, old blood and, as always, bad blood.
"The b–– is back, and you can kiss my a–," says a sassy Dina Manzo, who makes a return to the show, which premieres July 13 (8 p.m. ET) on Bravo. (A preview airs June 1.)
Manzo's marital and relationship woes look to take center stage, as do Teresa Giudice and husband Joe's legal woes.
"I'm in this nightmare I can't get out of," says Giudice, who recently pleaded guilty to four counts of fraud.
But most impacted by her parents' drama is Gia, the Giudice' 13-year-old daughter, who breaks down numerous times in the exclusive clip, before telling her father she wants to be a "criminal lawyer" when she grows up.
"We need them," Joe says.
Sexy couple Melissa and Joe Gorga are back – and now in the garbage business – while Kathy Wakile, her cannoli (and Rosie) return and look to do battle with Giudice, who remarks, "How do you spell b––? K-A-T-H-Y."
And although Jersey veterans Jacqueline Laurita and Caroline Manzo have departed (Manzo will be starring in her own Bravo spinoff, Manzo'd with Children), there is double trouble to replace them.
Self-described "b––y-nice" identical twin sisters Nicole Mauriello and Teresa Aprea look to add loads of drama – and humor – to the show.
"A woman only needs two things," remarks Mauriello, who owns one of the most prestigious Italian restaurants in Little Italy with her husband, Rino. "Dunkin Donuts and oral sex."
RELATED: Teresa Giudice Pleads Guilty: 'I Am Heartbroken for My Daughters'
Breast cancer survivor Amber Marchese, a longtime friend of Gorga and the twins, also joins the show, and her emotional battle will be part of season 6.
"The risk of not seeing my children grow up … It's just awful every single day," says a tearful Marchese, who also looks to stir up her own trouble on the show.
As the clip ends, and the yelling, fighting and lies escalate, Manzo sums up the show and season, over clinking ice cubes: "That's what we do in Jersey."
Inside Scoop: Teresa Giudice Pleads Guilty


text:
Arjun Kapoor who has made a promising debut through 'Ishaqzaade" is now acting in the movie "Aurangzaeb" which is the remake of 1978 classic "Trishul" which was directed by Yash Chopra. First look of "Aurangzeb" which is directed by Atul Sabharwal has been released yesterday.
Arjun Kapoor is doing a double role in the move and is depicted on the poster which was released where one of the characters is all suited up with classic look and other character looks like a gangster with gun in his hand.
On the other hand movie marks the debut of Sashaa Agha who is the daughter of yesteryear actress Salma Agha and movie also stars Prithviraj Sukumaran and Swara Bhaska in the major roles.
Arjun kapoor has known to have worked very hard for the movie because he has to potray two different roles which were originally played by Amitabh bachchan and Sanjeev Kumar. It's a serious challenge for him to best the roles which were originally played by two legendary actors.
The movie is all set to hit the celluloid on May 17th 2013. The movie is produced by Yash Raj Films and is all set to open in around 2000 screens which is truly a huge number considering this to be Arjun Kapoor's 2nd movie.}


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Blizzard's free-to-play collectible card game isn't blazing as hot as it once was, but the developer's plans for Hearthstone should help.
Hearthstone: Heroes of Warcraft, which has players facing each other in one-on-one competition online, is no longer in the top 20 highest-grossing iPad apps. Right now, in the U.S., it is No. 23. That's not terrible, but it puts it well outside the realm of something like developer King's Candy Crush Saga puzzler or even its Pet Rescue Saga in terms of money-making power. Hearthstone debuted strongly for iPad in April, but it isn't maintaining its momentum as well as other top mobile releases. This doesn't mean Blizzard doesn't have the cards in its hands to make a comeback.
In a note to investors, Cowen & Company analyst Doug Creutz noted the slipping popularity of Hearthstone, but he explained how it could still end up as one of the bigger mobile games over the next quarter.
"With a significant 'Adventure Mode' content update coming this summer, we expect the game to return to the top 20 before the end of Q3," Creutz wrote in a note to investors this morning. "We also believe the planned smartphone versions of the game will be successful."
When Hearthstone launched on iPad in April, it quickly shot to the top of the download charts in 47 countries. That includes important markets like the U.S., U.K., Brazil, South Korea, and Russia. Despite that, out of those, it only reached No. 1 on the top-grossing charts in South Korea. Instead, it hovered near the top 10 for a few weeks before slowly sliding to its present ranking. While every game eventually tails off, the top mobile releases (like the aforementioned Candy Crush Saga) maintain a presence at the top of both the download and grossing charts for months at a time. Hearthstone hasn't done that, and one of the reasons for that is probably because it is only on iPad as far as mobile platforms go.
Hearthstone originally debuted for PC and Mac. The iPad release followed a few months later, and now Blizzard is working on a version for iPhone as well as Android smartphones and tablets. The company previously promised to deliver those versions before the end of the year. This will obviously make the game available to more people. That should give a boost its download and grossing numbers, but it may also help increase its iPad sales. People who have Hearthstone with them on their phones when they're on the go might remember to continue their progress on their iPads when they get home. The availability on iPhone and Android will also bring more people into Hearthstone, and that may increase its visibility in social situations.
While the iPhone and Android versions are important, the upcoming expansion Curse of Naxxramas is just as crucial. With it, Hearthstone is not only getting fresh content, but it's getting its first single-player adventure. That could attract a different kind of player who wants to try Hearthstone but isn't sure about only playing online multiplayer.
Hearthstone is a very important product for Blizzard. The developer has routinely generated millions in revenue annually thanks to its megapopular, subscription-based game World of Warcraft. That massively multiplayer online hit has been slowly losing players over time. It once had 12 million paying members, but it is now hovering around 7.6 million. While that is still making plenty of money for Blizzard, it is clearly looking for other sources of cash to help ensure its financial future. With that in mind, it debuted Hearthstone as its first free-to-play game as well as its first major mobile release.
The studio is also now already testing its second free-to-play game, Heroes of the Storm, which is its League of Legends-style multiplayer online arena battler.
Analysts expect that Hearthstone and Heroes of the Storm could combine to make Blizzard as much as $200 million in 2014.


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The Texas Rangers have become famous for taking low-risk, high-reward chances at pitchers in recent years. Guys like Colby Lewis, Neal Cotts, Brandon Webb and others have been signed to low-risk deals coming off injuries and had varied levels of success.
Now, they're going for it again as the Rangers signed 28-year-old relief pitcher Daniel Bard to a minor-league deal coming off thoracic outlet syndrome surgery just more than a month ago. The timetable for his possible return is not known, but Bard is under team control through 2017, so he has some time.
If Bard can get back to his old self, it could be a huge addition to the Rangers' bullpen, even if it's late this year or in 2015, much in the way last year's signing of former all-star closer Joakim Soria could pay huge dividends down the road.
"This is the time of year you take chances on guys," Rangers GM Jon Daniels told ESPN Dallas. "This is taking a chance on a guy with a pedigree of being one of the best at what he does."
Bard's best season came in 2010 with Boston, when he made 73 appearances and put up a 1.93 ERA with 76 strikeouts in 74 2/3 innings. Since then, he's dealt with injuries and only made two appearances this past year before being shelved for the rest of the year.


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9 Ways To Shape Up For That Special Event
What is the healthiest party diet? People who are trying to get in shape for a special event, such as a wedding, an award show, a class reunion or a vacation, often do extreme things to slim down and get in shape.
Common drastic measures can include bizarre food combinations, dramatic detox plans, such as the Master Cleanse…or just plain starving.
READ: The 3-Step Cocktail Dress Workout
Even more extreme, there have been many reports of people wiring their mouths shut or resorting to the K-E Diet, where a feeding tube is used to slowly drip 800 calories of protein, water and fat from the nose, down the esophagus and directly into the person's stomach every day for up to 10 days.


text: In her letter to Shinde, Gandhi, who is also the UPA In her letter to Shinde, Gandhi, who is also the UPA Chairperson, said, "It is a shame for all of us who are responsible for the security of our cities that a young woman can be raped in a moving bus in the capital of the country and flung on to the street. "This monstrous crime deserves not only universal condemnation but also the government's most urgent attention," she said, noting that it is imperative that the police and other agencies concerned are sensitised to the danger that our daughters, sisters and mothers face every day. "The security agencies must be motivated, trained and equipped to deal with this menace," the Congress chief said, hoping that the Home Minister would initiate immediate action to remedy the situation. Gandhi, in her letter to Dikshit, said everyone was horrified by the incident. "It is a matter of shame that these incidents recur with painful regularity and that our daughters, sisters and mothers are unsafe in our capital city," she said. Noting that such violence and criminality needed not only to be condemned but called for a concerted effort to fight it, Gandhi asked the Delhi Chief Minister to take whatever steps were necessary to undertake community action, to strengthen law and order, and to step up vigilance to protect women. "There is an urgent need to demonstrate our sincerity and determination," she said, adding that Dikshit had her and the party's support in whatever efforts were needed to curb this menace. According to Dwivedi, Gandhi wanted the guilty in the case to be brought to book at the earliest. Earlier in the day, both Houses of Parliament expressed shock and outrage over the heinous gangrape of the girl in a moving bus in south Delhi. Members, cutting across party lines, made strong demands for capital punishment to perpetrators of such crimes. Opposition members demanded a categorical assurance from the Home Minister that such an incident will not recur. Women members in both Houses were in the forefront in expressing shock and anguish over the incident, voicing concern over the safety of the fair sex in Delhi. Cinestar- turned-MP Jaya Bachchan even broke down while speaking on the issue in the Upper House. In Lok Sabha, Speaker Meira Kumar led the House in expressing outrage over the "spine-chilling" incident, saying it was shameful for the entire society. PTI SPG RC SC


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Dark Star: H.R. Gigers Welt Info
2014 | Documentary, Biography
95 minutes /
[ Movie Page: Dark Star: H.R. Giger's World (2014) ]
[ Trailer ][ Full Poster ]
Dark Star: H.R. Gigers Welt Review
Synopsis:A look at the life the dark surrealist Swiss artist, H.R.Giger shot a year before his death.
Dark Star: H.R. Giger's Welt (2014) is a Switzerland documentary biography that switches back and forth between the year 2014 and archival footages. The documentary is 95 minutes long and was filmed in Zurich, Switzerland. Director and writer Belinda Sallin did a fantastic job showing us who Giger is, what stands behind his work, how he treats others, how he views the world and what a normal average guy he is. This was one of the best documentaries I have seen about someone, and that is not just because Giger's home looks like a museum of the macabre. It is sad that this documentary started when Giger health had already started to deteriorate.
Dark Star: H.R. Giger's Welt, aka Dark Star: H.R. Giger's World (2014), includes several stories about incidents in his early childhood including an incident with a museum mummy, bathtub for books, and rotting animal skulls. I could not get enough of seeing him working when he was younger and the paintings, drawings, and sceneries outside. It was just breathtaking and serene. His assistant Tom Gabriel Fischer had a good amount of screentime in this documentary and displays his affection for Giger. His close friends and loved ones described him as a normal guy who does not get flustered and almost always appears as though he is at peace. He is also said to be a pure artist who genuinely appreciates everyone and his work. I found this documentary to be a delicate piece of work as it is intimate and at times emotional. There are lots to see in this documentary that will appeal to horror fans.
Fans and non-fans of Giger will enjoy this film as you do not need prior knowledge as to whom he is to have a feasible pleasing watch. Be warned that a few images are disturbing to look at. As much as I was entertained watching this documentary, I could not help my mind from drifting a few times, and that is because the movie is really slow so one must have patience. An option is to keep the remote in hand and fast forward to the parts you would like to see.
About Dark Star: H.R. Gigers Welt 2014
AKA: Dark Star: HR Gigers Welt
Year: 2014
Runtime: 95 minutes
Type: Movie
Genre: Documentary, Biography
Total Avg. Votes: 63
Writers: Belinda Sallin
Director: Belinda Sallin


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West Team (roster)
Woodland Hills, Calif.
Smith in actionClick 6-2, 200, 4.4Here to view this Link.
Rivals.com Rankings
Rivals100 for 2007: No. 65 overall
Rivals.com athletes: No. 8
Rivals.com California top 100: No. 12
Woodland Hills (Calif.) Taft linebacker/athlete Malcolm Smith is very competitive - especially with older brother, USC receiver Steve Smith.
Steve Smith played in the U.S. Army All-America game when he was in high school, and now Malcolm Smith can add All-America recognition to his résumé.
Smith, a 6-foot-2, 210-pound four-star prospect, has been selected to play linebacker for the West squad in the Offense-Defense All-American Bowl. The game will be played on Jan. 4 in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., and will be carried live on ESPNU.
"It's a good opportunity to show what I can do and play with a bunch of top guys," said Smith, one of the most versatile players that will be on the West roster.
Smith is excited about his opportunity to play on national television in Florida.
"I went to Florida when I was real little, and I remember how great the weather was," Smith said. "It can't get too much better than California, but it'll be something new to check out. I want to go out there and show people how good I am and do my best and compete. I'll play anywhere they want me to. Offense, defense, special teams, whatever."
Smith has already taken one official visit to Notre Dame, but he lists USC, UCLA, Penn State and Cal as his other top teams. He has offers from all those teams, along with numerous others from teams like Arizona, Ole Miss, Michigan and Washington.
Others announced today:


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The Surprising Role of Lichen: How RMNP was Made
Perhaps one of the most under-appreciated lifeforms in Rocky Mountain National Park are the large variety of lichens growing on the rocks and trees. Not only are lichen colorful and an important food source for the park's beloved elk, but they actually played an important role in creating RMNP as we know it.
Lichen are an amazing combination of fungus and algae that take in nutrients from the air, as well as through photosynthesis. But it is the role lichens played approximately 16,000 years ago that we owe a little respect. At that time, the glaciers receded from the lower parts of the park. Lichens were some of the original colonizers on the newly exposed rocks. Over time, lichens' small threads (called hyphe) that attach them to their rocks grow into the smallest cracks in the rock. Gradually these cracks get larger and allow water to freeze and thaw thousands of times. This process is what eventually breaks the largest rocks into tiny pebbles. Breaking down rocks this way is what allows plants and tress to move into an area that was previously barren rock.
Even though lichens play a vital role in the ecosystem by creating soil and providing a hospitable environment for plants, and essential nutrients to many of the park's fauna, most people won't give them a second glance. Maybe next time you are out exploring Rocky Mountain National Park, you'll take a moment to appreciate the beauty and power of the humble lichen.
Blog post and photo provided by Jared Gricoskie of Yellow Wood Guiding. Find out how you can book your own guided tour of RMNP by visiting YWGuiding.com.


text: I am currently playing with a Wilson Ncode Npro Open racquet with a 16x19 string pattern strung with Wilson NXT 17g at 55 lbs. I am noticing that I am generating a lot more topspin with this racquet and stringing set-up, and I feel like I am wrapping around the ball a lot more consistently. Is this wrapping feeling I am getting attributed to my string, since Wilson NXT 17g has a lot of feel or is it due to the biting of the ball, or both? Is this wrapping due to the biting of the ball? If so, I would like to know your recommendations for the best ball "biters," if you wish. If anyone has played with Wilson NXT 17g, can you tell me how it compares and plays against your personal setups? I know that SPPP and Cyberflash seem to be really popular strings, are these good potential ball biters? Thanks guys. Appreciate it.


text:
The Morning Call Top Workplaces 2013
HindlePower, Inc.
- Employees in region:
- 72
- Sector:
- Manufacturing
- HQ location:
- Easton, PA
Top Workplaces
For over 30 years, HindlePower has been manufacturing quality constant voltage float battery chargers. Our staff and our products serve the power generation and distribution market, switchgear OEMs, power substations, the oil & gas industry, and various transportation maintenance facilities. HindlePower also offers custom designed solutions integrating ac and dc power supplies, rectifiers, converters, inverters and distribution panels, configured as needed for your application.
"I feel valued and appreciated. I love working where your opinion really matters and everyone has a voice. The owner is honest and genuinely cares, and that makes us want to do our best for him."
"The owner of the company is like no other I have worked for. He takes care of his employees and treats everyone like they are important to the company. "
"He allows me to run with my ideas and gives me the tools to succeed. He gives me full support."
"It is a friendly place to work. There are not mistakes, only learning experiences. We are encouraged to do better than our ability and there aren't any boundaries. "


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FREEZE FRAME: 'Manilow Way' Unveiled on 44th Street!
The City of New York has honored Grammy Award-winning superstar (and Brooklyn native) Barry Manilow with his very own street. In a ceremony performed earlier today, Todd Asher, Deputy Commissioner of the New York City Mayor's Office of Media and Entertainment (and self-professed "Fanilow"), unveiled a new street sign dubbing the West 44th Street at 7th Avenue "MANILOW WAY." The corner is mere steps from the St. James Theatre (246 West 44th Street) where Manilow began a special Broadway concert series, Manilow on Broadway, last Friday, January 18. The limited Broadway engagement was recently extended and will now play through Saturday, February 23, 2013.
Check out a photo preview from the big unveiling below!
"On behalf of Mayor Michael Bloomberg and the City of New York, I want to welcome Brooklyn-born music icon Barry Manilow back home to the greatest city in the world!," said Deputy Commissioner Asher. "In honor of his concert series, Manilow on Broadway, playing just up the street at the St. James Theatre, we have renamed West 44th Street at 7th Avenue MANILOW WAY!"
Fans had lined the street beginning in the early morning. By the time Mr. Manilow arrived, a large crowd of fans and photographers were waiting.
With worldwide sales of more than 80 million records, success is a benchmark in popular music. Rolling Stone crowned him "a giant among entertainers... the showman of our generation," and Frank Sinatra summed up Manilow best when Ol' Blue Eyes told the British press, "He's next." He currently has 50 Top 40 hits. And now, Manilow is returning to the place where it all began, his hometown, New York City, with a new concert series on Broadway - marking his return to The Great White Way for the first time in more than two decades with Manilow on Broadway.
Manilow's roots remain in his native Brooklyn, where music was an integral part of his life. By the age of seven, he was taking accordion lessons and playing on a neighbor's piano. Choosing a career in music while still in his teens, he attended New York College of Music and the Juilliard School of Music while working in the mailroom at CBS. He subsequently became musical director for a CBS show named "Callback" (the predecessor to "American Idol") which led to a lucrative sideline on New York's advertising jingle circuit.
Since then, Manilow has been ranked as the top Adult Contemporary chart artist of all time, according to R&R (Radio & Records), with no less than 25 consecutive Top 40 hits on the Billboard Hot 100 between 1975 and 1983. The list includes all-time favorites that Manilow still sings today: "Mandy," "It's A Miracle," "Could It Be Magic," "I Write the Songs," "Tryin' To Get the Feeling Again," "This One's For You," "Weekend In New England," "Looks Like We Made It," "Can't Smile Without You," "Even Now," and the Grammy Award-winning "Copacabana (At the Copa)." Manilow's Broadway show is destined to be as legendary as the man himself.
Tickets, ranging in price from $50 to $350, are now on sale. For tickets, please visit www.ManilowOnBroadway.com or call (212) 239-6200 / (800) 432-7250. Barry Manilow Fan Club tickets are available now at www.manilow.com and by calling (310) 957-5788. Citi cardmembers will have access to preferred tickets and exclusive VIP packages through Citi's Private Pass program (details at www.citiprivatepass.com).
MANILOW ON BROADWAY will play the following weekly performance schedule: Tuesday at 7:00 p.m.,Wednesday at 7:00 p.m., Thursday at 8:00 p.m., Friday at 8:00 p.m., and Saturday at 8:00 p.m.
Photo Credit: Walter McBride
Barry Manilow unveils the new street sign 'Manilow Way' on West 44th Street in a renaming ceremony celebrating 'Manilow on Broadway' at the St. James Theatre in New York City on 1/22/2013


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'Skunk Boy' John Henson Hosts 'World's Funniest Animal Commercials' on truTV Plus New Season of 'Wipeout' [INTERVIEW]
John Henson, one of America's favorite television hosts, joined 98.3 The Key this morning to talk about his new show "World's Funniest Animal Commercials" airing tonight, Jan. 31 at 8 p.m. on truTV. Here are the top 3 three reasons John says you won't want to miss the show:
1. Only you will know he's scared to death of his co-host.
When John's brother found out he was hosting the show with a chimpanzee, the brother reminded John that those animals can "tear peoples' face off." His brotherly advice: "Don't end up on Youtube." John couldn't get that out of his mind during filming.
When you watch tonight you will see a level of fear… me leaning back at a 45 degree angle — like my prom date did — just trying to get out of that personal space… They go right for your business, right for your jewels.
2. Commercials from around the world are crazy.
Other countries have whole different standards of what they consider appropriate… and a more absurd sensibility. The commercials are unbelievably funny and twisted.
3. truTV is quickly becoming America's coolest network.
truTV is now a top 10 network, they snuck into the top 10. It's kind of like the Wild West over there… they simply don't have the manpower to watch what we're doing. They open a studio for us for two hours and leave us alone. 'Hand us a 60 minute tape at the end and we're good.'
John Henson also explained how he got the nickname "Skunk Boy" and revealed a secret about how the show "Wipeout" is produced. Listen to the full interview for the juicy details.


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DMV Approved Other First Time Driver Courses
Florida Drug and Alcohol Course Online
Passing the Drug and Alcohol Test in Florida might sound like a challenge. It is, if you choose a wrong provider to take this course. Luckily, this is not one such site. Our course is developed by industry professionals who emphasize on providing the highest level of learning required while maintaining the course material as easy as possible to pass. So, when it is time to take the test, you will be fully prepared to take the challenge head on. Study anytime, and anywhere, because it is online! If you have your computer and an internet connection, you are all set to take this online course.
Florida DMV Approved Course - Statewide
Approved by the Florida DHSMV, you can take this online course if you are at least fifteen years old and want to take the permit exam to get your learner's license.
An Opportunity to Learn With Fun
Our Drug and Alcohol Course comprises of 4 units, each filled with lots of interactive learning with a splash of fun. By offering you tons of enjoyment while learning, we ensure that you never get bored during your reading hours. The course includes five multiple-choice questions. You need to answer them correctly in each unit. Plus, there's no chance of failure because you be provided unlimited attempts to practice the test!
You Are Guaranteed To Pass!
Enrolling in our Drug and Alcohol online course means that you have climbed the ladder to success. Since we allow our students to give the final exam repeatedly, practicing all questions several times helps them master the level required to pass the test for getting their learner's license.
You Learn Independently
Since this course does not require the presence of an instructor, we let you enjoy the empowerment of deciding your learning schedule on your own. So, you do not need to follow fixed timings anymore. Study when it is comfortable and convenient for you because everything is online.
One More Reason for Choosing Us
We provide you an opportunity to sit back, relax, and prepare for the final exam without any hassle. We make this possible by taking the entire responsibility of handling your paperwork, so that you don't have to go through a complicated registration process. However, this is not all that you will get from us. To help you out till the end, we will inform the DHSMV that you have cleared the preparation test. This is how you are automatically qualified for the online Permit test. It is that simple!
Still Have Some Questions?
We come across hundreds of questions on a daily basis. This is one of the reasons why we focus on the availability of our 24/7 customer service. If you have any kind of question related to our online Drug and Alcohol Course, then all you need to do is to talk to our customer service representatives directly. Call us, email us, or start a chat live. Whichever option you choose, we are there to help you with your questions and concerns.


text:
Artist description:
spongebob is a nowhere man lol!
Java Draw Created Nov 27, 2010 640 x 460px Unless noted Copyright 2010 DSWdrifter.
We encourage you to submit a comment and let the artist know what you think of this drawing. Please log in or join to post a comment.
Post a comment
Great combination.. love it 5 hearts
lol, you've captured him well :P luv this movie 5/5
HAHHAHAHAHAHAH. I love these colors. Yellow Submarine looks liek a great movie, I've just never found the oppurtunity to watch it :( 5/5 and beatles colllection! :)
LOL !!! what a combination,,, so unique,,,, I love it. 5♥s
Awesome 5 Hearts
lol the character from the yellow submarine movie XD
Cool draw!
It was genius to compose the elements in your drawing as you did. It draws the viewer in and then they follow the action around the whole drawing. 5/5 Hearts. LOL Spongebob :)
LOL at spongebob in the background xD!!! 5/5
i just asked arora where the blue meanies were..*LOL* holy snikes... they look real ,,,, oh they are really real for a cartoon...*LOL*I know blue meanies arent real,.. and i will never watch the beatles while being high again... girlscout promise


text:
Silk Road history paper 4 pages times roman double spaced
Bring to Life the trade cities of Kasgar and Samakand, and the routes between them. Where are these Cities located (especially in terms of natural enviroment. How did one travel Between them in or located the ear 1000 CE? what dangers would one have faced, both natural and Human? What would one have found in these cities a thousand years ago? peoplle? goods? Religion? Would one have found in these cities a thousand years ago? People? Goods? Religion? Languages. W wasnt you to bring these cities to life in convincing detail, and i want you to tell how one would have moved between them. Use creativity,but remain Historically accurate.You Might want to use resources such as WikiPedia, google maps, books, the national geographic vide, or other internet resources. The paper must be cited accurately using the chicogo footnote style. Dont write in first paper
Tutor Answer
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text: Hank, I initially added the new router using the route command and thendeleted the old router the same way. I also changed the defaultrouter file in /etc. Is there something else that needs to be changed? When I do a netstat -r, I believe the routing table looks correct. Cyrus Message text written by INTERNET:foxboro@xxxxxxxxxxxxx >When you changed the default router , did you put that change in a start= up script? < _______________________________________________________________________ This mailing list is neither sponsored nor endorsed by Invensys Process Systems (formerly The Foxboro Company). Use the info you obtain here at your own risks. Read http://www.thecassandraproject.org/disclaimer.html foxboro mailing list: http://www.freelists.org/list/foxboro to subscribe: mailto:foxboro-request@xxxxxxxxxxxxx?subject=join to unsubscribe: mailto:foxboro-request@xxxxxxxxxxxxx?subject=leave


text:
Comment #41 Saturday, August 7, 2004 10:23 PM
Comment #42 Saturday, August 7, 2004 10:37 PM
Comment #43 Tuesday, August 10, 2004 12:03 PM
1. SysStatsCOM.dll must be under "ObjectDock" folder.
2. Sysstats.dll and folders(configs, icons, images, overlays, plugins, scripts, system...) must be under "sysstats" folder.
3. sysstats folder which has sysstats.dll and folders must be under "docklets" folder.
4. enjoy.
This is the way that I kick sysstats' problem away.
Comment #44 Saturday, August 14, 2004 6:21 PM
Comment #45 Friday, August 20, 2004 3:43 AM
Comment #48 Wednesday, September 8, 2004 11:22 AM
Comment #49 Saturday, September 11, 2004 3:14 PM
I CAN'T use the weather config. Everything is in the right folder. Other configs all work well. Could it be it can't grab the xml file from the web but I can open the url directly in browser. What could be the reason???
Thanks for any help.
Comment #50 Monday, September 13, 2004 5:54 AM
Comment #51 Friday, September 17, 2004 10:24 AM
Comment #52 Friday, September 24, 2004 11:07 AM
Comment #53 Tuesday, October 12, 2004 2:07 PM
This looks great! I'm new to ObjectDock, but I've already got a setup that makes me feel at home when I'm away from my Mac. Looking forward to a Win2k-compatible version of SysStats once I've got some of the SS plugins on my Dock, My Windows machine will be as perfect as I can make it!
Have a beer on me now, and a double-whisky is yours when the 2k version's out
Comment #54 Sunday, October 24, 2004 6:24 PM
Comment #55 Wednesday, October 27, 2004 1:39 PM
1. Thanks for your work on this exceptional tool. I love it on my home PC. It looks flexible enough that I might be able to develop my own meters and such. That's neat.
2. Please add me to the list of people who would like to see this work in Win 2K. At work my OS is Win 2K and there are many docklet features I like that are only supported through your SysStats.
Comment #57 Monday, December 6, 2004 12:08 PM
Comment #58 Friday, December 10, 2004 6:57 PM
Comment #59 Saturday, December 11, 2004 9:12 PM
Comment #60 Monday, January 24, 2005 9:47 AM
|Comment# 50 By Citizen Kim Williams - 9/13/2004 5:54:03 AM
Quote Reply
Hey Judge...the network meter config doesn't seem to be working properly anymore, after upgrading to SP2. It's constantly at 0k/s, and in the configuration, I don't see my network card anywhere under the PDH units anymore. Do you have any idea why this might be? One thing that does happen - when I try to configure "Net In" or "Net Out", it gives me an error message saying "unable to connect to machine", if that helps at all.
Hy Judge,
first of all......great work, your systat is the only alternative to desktopX/sysmetrix!(tried both of them....too heavy on system resources!) i've the same problem told above, no way to have the network monitor working......said "unable to connect to computer" when try
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text:
Pacquiao vs. Bradley 2: Pac-Man Must Reassert Killer Instinct in RematchApril 5, 2014
On April 12 in the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, boxing fans will learn if the greatest chapters of Manny Pacquiao's legacy have already been written or if the Filipino legend has more epic triumphs in the ring ahead.
To prove his career still has dominance left, the 35-year-old is going to have revert to the unstoppable puncher who bullied his way to titles in an unprecedented eight different weight divisions.
In other words, when he fights Timothy Bradley (31-0, 12 KOs) for the WBO Welterweight Championship, Pacquiao (54-5-2, 38 knockouts) is going to have to prove he still has his killer instinct.
This, of course, is a rematch of their infamous first fight from 2012 when Bradley came out on top in a decision that left most onlookers somewhere between bewildered or furious.
In case you need a refresher on the night's action, this video will bring you up to speed:
The outcome was so dubious, that as the Associated Press tweeted, it was under investigation:
At any rate, that is all part of history, and now Pacquiao would be wise to avoid the possibility of that outcome happening again by finishing this fight. In the first fight, Pacquiao dominated Bradley early, but he appeared content to go for the win on points instead of the knockout.
That approach is certainly a departure from the aggressive style Pacquiao used to become an icon, but it was also part of a trend for Pacquiao.
Not since stopping Miguel Cotto in late 2009 has Pacquiao won a bout before the decision, and never was his willingness to take a decision victory more apparent than in his last fight.
Just ask Bradley...or read his below comment as provided by Yahoo! Sports Kevin Iole:
Manny didn't look the same against Rios. He didn't have his usual killer instinct. That's the first thing I noticed. I don't think he has the hunger anymore and it's never coming back. He no longer has his killer instinct.
There is no arguing with Bradley's assessment that Pacquiao didn't show his killer instinct against Rios, but it is too early to say "it's never coming back."
The win over Rios snapped a two-bout losing streak for Pacquiao. First there was the loss to Bradley, which was followed up by his viscous knockout via a thunderous counterpunch from his longtime rival Juan Manuel Marquez.
In that bout, Pacquiao's killer instinct was on full display. He looked strong and aggressive, which is part of the reason he was vulnerable to the counter in the first place.
Now, I don't know if that knockout was still lingering in his mind when he fought Rios or if he was simply trying to ensure he got back on the winning track. It was probably a little of both, but the reality is that it won't work against Bradley.
Famed boxing commentator Larry Merchant, via The Ring's Lem Satterfield, commented on Pacquiao's last performance, and how it will play against Bradley:
In that fight, against Rios, he fought just as a boxer. But he's not going to be able to beat Bradley just as a boxer.
The question is whether he can make as big a change in doing that as he would have to to beat Bradley. The question for Manny is whether he will have the ability and the fire to force a fight, and to return a little bit to his previous incarnations.
Meanwhile, the below video offers up a take on keys to victory for both fighters:
Pacquiao is not going to be able to outbox Bradley, but he can dominate the fight. Pacquiao must take the action to Bradley and then stay aggressive.
This will keep Bradley on his heels and from gaining any momentum. The 30-year-old is a skilled fighter, but he is not as an accomplished counterpuncher as Marquez. In other words, he will not be able to handle Pacquiao's fierce attack as Marquez has.
Pacquiao must display his killer instinct to not only win this fight but to show the world he is still capable of fighting in the style that made him so wildly popular in the first place.


text: We moved into paving last year and have not had any warranty issues however I want to supply a written warranty on paver movement / settling / joint sand issues. I was thinking something like "adjacent paver movement exceeding 1/4", paver group settling exceeding 3/8" over 60" area etc. under foot / vehicle travel (depending on area paved) " Any suggestions on the verbage??? Also not sure what to think on the joint sand... I have been using polymeric sand and for some reason we always end up compacting in a second time at our expense ( and without waiting for a customer call... we do a 30 day followup inspection and resolve any issues we find as protocol ) Not so sure I like the Alliance polymeric sand... I hated the Unilock poly sand BTW. Thanks-


text: I have written a DLL as part of a keylogging program. It contains the callback function for a global hook. It writes the keys to a buffer. However, when the function is called it writes to a different copy of the buffer for each program. Other variables also behave like this. I think I need to create a shared segment in the DLL, but all the instructions I have found to do this seem to have no effect. I am using Borland C++ 5.02 running on Windows ME. I would be grateful for any suggestions, or methods to work around this without writing to files.


text: Raising huge armies of gnarled fantasy creatures, thundering across the loot-laden countryside, and thrashing the kingdoms of rival heroes in epic turn-based battles is still every bit as awesome as it was when I first dove into Heroes of Might and Magic as a kid. Don't let the name switcheroo fool you: Might & Magic Heroes VI primarily sticks to the franchise's roots. It's laden with all of the excellent nitty-gritty details that strategic fantasy warfare nerds like me salivate over, but it also incorporates some updates to the formula that may not sit well with the hardcore set. As great as the underlying gameplay is, a few heinous design missteps nearly kill the experience outright, especially Ubisoft's hideous Uplay requirements.


text:
"Given the critical need for fiscal reforms in the coming period (public wage and social benefits cuts coupled with public sector layoff and/or a raise in taxes), as well as the GDP data announced yesterday, we have decided to lower our economic growth forecast for 2010, from 0.9% to -1.4% (IMF predicts an economic contraction of 0.5%). We admit the situation could be worse but for the time being, there are no strong arguments in favor of that. Also, our economic growth projections for 2011 have been reduced to 0.2% from 1.5%. Following the revision, we intend on reconsidering our inflation, EUR/RON and budget deficit forecasts", ING said in a report released Friday.
Also ING analysts expect the national currency to remain weak against euro, but losses should be limited since NBR is very likely to defend the 4.20 lei/euro rate.
"We expect the short-term rates to drop further. The Ministry Public Finance has decided to reject all bids for yesterday's bonds, despite our expectations of high-yield payment. This strategy suggests IMF is not doing the proper thing as the volume of outstanding payments is significant and it affects the real economy", ING said.
Inregistreaza-te pe Wall-Street sau conecteaza-te prin Facebook pentru a primi periodic articole similare.
In lipsa unui acord scris din partea InternetCorp, puteti prelua maxim 500 de caractere din acest articol daca precizati sursa si daca inserati vizibil linkul articolului ING revises Romania's economic growth outlook downwards.