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Makepeace had to know something was wrong by now. It had been too long since anyone had made any noise. Smoke and flames shot at them from the upstairs, debris spewing onto the landing and stairs from the corridor to the left. Smoke billowed down the stairs, blanketing them. Her bedroom was right over the kitchen. They heard the huge house shudder, the sound of collapsing ceilings and walls and the crackling of flames, gaining purchase now, spreading fast. saw cut per foot In the center, on top of an orange nylon rug, a vaguely Swedish coffee table bore ashtrays, piled newspapers, and a paperback book. The proprietor came through the far door. His stomach sagged hugely over the narrow plastic belt of his blue trousers, and a cigarette bearing a precarious finger of ash hung from the comer of his mouth. Mike was not likely to be back yet, but there was a chance that his char would be in the flat-when they were away she dropped in whenever she felt like it. She sank gratefully into a tan leatherette armchair that could have come from a furniture store in Lewisham. Confidence was not something he lacked. Cassy slid into the seat across from Pitt.
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