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Friday, September 19, 2003

Decker smiled, motioned to his watch and the clipboard, a nonsense gesture, but one that made the neighbour nod, half-smile, get into his car and back out into the street. It was all in the forehead, the neck and teeth, a PhD hired by the Kurtz had told Decker two decades before. You bounced them back at themselves, like the burglar at the dressing table closing his eyes as the head lifts from the pillow.

- matthew branton's books have caught my eye a few times in the past, the UK covers are consistent and stand out, the subject matter of several makes him sound like someone that could be doing interesting stuff. past attempts to find extracts haven't thrown up much, but i just stumbled across the first chapter of The Hired Gun, which seems to be about an aging hitman.

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