Friday, June 19, 2009

Paris, France


November wasn´t the best time of the year to see Paris. Deep into the fall, the days were short and when it wasn´t raining, a general grayness either in the form of a fog or low gray skies seemed to hang over the city. I´d been told that bright crisp autumn days actually weren´t all that rare, but after a couple of days with no sign of the sun it was becoming clear that this visit was going to be meteorologically ill-fated. Yet I couldn´t complain about the view: the top floor apartment I was using was right smack by the Rive Gauche of Seine, with the Louvre and Jardin des Tuileries across the river. The high-ceilinged apartment was painted all impeccably white and had four bedrooms, a working fireplace, a stainless steel Italian kitchen, and the entire furniture consisted of a single mattress on the wooden floor. The windows were floor-to-ceiling and led to a narrow balcony, perfect for observing the stressed-out tourists thronging the Louvre courtyard.

It was the second night of my stay in Paris, and I was lying on the mattress surrounded by the contents of my suitcase and listening to music on headphones. The apartment was in the dark, and outside a cold hazy fog had blanketed the city, turning the streetlights into misty globs of yellow and making the Tuileries seem more like a graveyard than merry gardens. The telephone call would come around 10pm if the job was confirmed. I had a selection of the latest teen fashions ready, with a matching backpack for different lubes and a couple of surprising toys to go along with the more traditional ones. I´d been told condoms wouldn´t be tolerated, but that was all right as I couldn´t catch anything anyway.

Mauro had come over for lunch in the Porta Romana apartment the day after I´d met Carlo. We´d stayed in, naturally, to avoid exposure to anyone who might recognize me, and we´d set the table in the balcony as the sun was hidden behind impending storm clouds and there was a cool breeze at the height of the apartment. He brought a mozzarella and tomato salad with crisp French bread and a bottle of wine, and by the time we´d finished eating we were both just a little inebriated to celebrate the previous night´s success.

So, what will I do next?” I asked.

That depends entirely on you,” Mauro answered. “However, I do have a potential candidate for you to check out.”

He produced a photo of a big, tall man with rough-hewn face, surrounded by four others of the same type. The only real difference with the man in the middle and the others was that he was the only one wearing an ill-fitting gray suit whereas the bodyguards donned far better tailored black ones.

Another politician?” I guessed.

Nazer Yegorov.”

The name didn´t ring any bells.

He´s the president of one of the former Soviet Republics in the Caucasus,” Mauro illuminated me. “The country is swimming in oil, except that all the revenue ends up in the Swiss bank account of our dear leader here. He´s doing his very best to atrophy the country´s already feeble movement towards democracy, and according to our projections his dictatorship will collapse into religious fundamentalism within a generation. A domino effect in the region is likely.”

Your people aren´t very much into religion, are they?”

Mauro shook his head. “To put it mildly.”

“What makes you think he´s susceptible to Engineer´s tricks?”

The staff of his Presidential Palace includes a sixteen-year-old waiter boy who lives in fear of night shifts.”

I see.”

“We can´t use the footage, of course. The boy and his family and relatives would vanish within hours.”

I wondered if it would be unprofessional of me to ask to see the footage, given the fact that my real motivation was anything but professional. Rough-hewn as the man was, he still had the kind of overmasculine, square-jawed alpha male looks that frequently turned me on.

There´s been talk about his country joining the NATO, and he´s been invited to a top-level meeting in Paris in November,” Mauro started. “Some time before the meeting, he´ll come into possession of a phone number for Octavianus Models, an excruciatingly secretive agency that specializes in beautiful boys between the ages of thirteen and seventeen.” Seeing my expression, Mauro added with a smile, “Of course, the agency doesn´t really exist.”

“I´m glad to hear that the Guild hasn´t branched out in that direction.”

“Now, there are some things you need to consider first,” Mauro continued, rather ominously. “In addition to the video drone, you´ll go in with four similar-looking defensive ones. They´re capable of lethal response but they won´t use it, except on you.”

“Me?” The idea of going in with defensive drones which would target me instead of trigger-happy bodyguards was counterintuitive, to say the least.

“Only if you end up fatally injured at some point,” Mauro reassured me, with a choice of words that perhaps wasn´t the most heartening possible. “You must understand that these are just precautions, there´s no reason to believe things won´t go as smoothly as with Carlo. It´s just that we can´t back you up with a private army. If things go wrong, all the traces have to stop at you and your fake persona.”

“That´s reasonable,” I had to admit. “Who will I be? An orphan from Hungary?”

Something like that.”

The telephone rang and woke me up. It was a quarter past ten. The fog outside had grown so thick that Rive Droite had vanished from sight, and the sound of the traffic was muted as if a thick blanket had been thrown over the city.

You´re on,” Mauro said.

Every sound echoed disconcertingly in the nearly empty apartment as I prepared myself for the night, my heart beating faster than usual. Before leaving I double checked my papers and the key card to the safe room in the hotel where Nazer Yegorov and his entourage were staying, then bundled up for the cold and damp night and walked to the nearest metro station. Despite the late hour and the fog the traffic along the Seine was heavy and I wished I were in one of the warm cozy taxis instead of the empty sidewalk but, as usual, walking and the metro were the more anonymous choices. I got out at a station in La Défense, the American-looking district outside the city center and packed with business high rises. Le Nouveau President hotel wasn´t far, in the wide central Esplanade, and once again I was struck by how ugly the five-star hotel was. A huge mind-numbingly dull concrete slab from the 1980s, it nevertheless was the hotel preferred by security-conscious visitors to the city and therefore a favorite among politicians and heads of state. Tonight security had been beefed up for Yegorov and the NATO meeting, and I had to show my papers twice even before I got to the main entrance and passed through a metal detector. In a clear sign of racial profiling, the security personnel at the door barely gave me a half a glance and then ignored me as I walked to the elevators. I supposed they were right; after all, the only Swedish terrorists that the world had ever known had been in a Sophia Loren movie. Excluding Vikings in their time, naturally.

Once inside, one would never have guessed how drab the hotel looked outside. Everything about the interior design was first class, albeit suitably conservative and anonymous for a hotel that specialized in politicians and bureaucrats. The safe room was on the second floor, low enough for me to bail out through a window if necessary, and the tight black gloves and the piece of rope in my backpack were included mostly for this purpose. I needed to visit the room to let out the drones, but I was also glad for a chance to collect myself for a few minutes before I had to move on. I sat back in a comfortable armchair and let my eyes wander around the room, trying to pick up the drones, but with no luck. The little devils were too smart for that. I´d been surprised to learn that they weren´t remotely controlled but had independent quasi-sentient AIs running them, even though obviously connected to whoever was running the operation. I could only hope that the AIs wouldn´t develop a sudden dislike of me halfway through the proceedings.

Then it was time to go. I threw a last glance at a mirror, checked what I considered my teenage costume, and left the room.

Nazer Yegorov was staying on the top floor. Presidential Suite, naturally. When the elevator doors opened the first thing I saw were two huge, armed security guards in black suits standing in front of me, with a barely concealed sneer on their faces as they directed me towards the suite. Two more of their kind, albeit seemingly less judgmental, were standing guard outside the door. I was shooed in. Faced by two more guards towering over me, this time I was asked to stand still while they slowly and methodically frisked me after removing my outdoor gear. These two were clearly more sympathetic to their boss´ pastimes and took their time running their hands all over me, taking special care that I wasn´t hiding anything around my glutes. I cleared my throat when one of them went over the area for the second time, and he gave me a cold stare in response but stood back and gestured me to move into the suite proper.

If it hadn´t been for the dark gray Armani suit – he didn´t seem to have objections to wearing tailored suits in private – I would have taken Nazer Yegorov for yet another bodyguard. The same face and body, not to mention the attitude, which wasn´t all that surprising as he was known to run his political party as if it were a crime syndicate. He was sitting back on a couch, a drink in one hand and the other placed on an armrest, and his powerful legs were casually spread to tell me that I belonged between them, on my knees. My throat went dry, and I could feel the pressure of blood rushing into my cock. He gestured me to move forward and stop in front of him for a visual inspection, and then with a small rolling movement of his finger I was ordered to turn around and show him my backside. The bodyguards had vanished into another room.

Very good,” he said with rumbling and heavily accented English. “You´re even better than what they told me.”

I turned to face him, and his eyes dropped briefly to my trousers to size up my growing bulge.

Take off your shirt.”

One by one, I removed my clothes until I was only wearing my white underwear, stretched tight over my hard-on. During my slow amateur strip show, a bulge of breathtaking size had grown in the left leg of his trousers and I was having hard time trying not to stare at it, which clearly amused him. With a cock like that, no wonder he always appeared so self-assured on every video I´d seen. To protect the anonymity of the boy I hadn´t been shown any of the footage from the Presidential Palace, but I was soon going to see for myself what this man could do.

Turn around.”

I obeyed. A prolonged silence ensued.

“That´s one beautiful ass,” the man then said, and I heard ice clink in his glass. “No, don´t move.” Another silence. “Do you see the envelope on the side table?”

Yes.”

There are five thousand euros in it. Your bonus.” More ice clinking. “There´s no reason to report it to the agency.”

I bit my lip. I wasn´t a pro, but the bonus seemed suspiciously high even considering the huge sum the fake agency was already charging him. What was I supposed to do to earn the bonus?

I swallowed, and nodded. “Thank you.”

Good.”

I heard him shift on the leather couch behind me, and there was a slithering sound as he pulled off his belt.

Put your hands behind your back.”

I followed his orders, and felt him loop the belt around my wrists and then secure it tight. Only now I felt his hands on my ass, studying the muscles, then slowly caressing them. He didn´t pull down my underwear, and I thought my dick was going to rip the seams if he didn´t let it free soon.

Turn around.”

His eyes widened a little when he saw how big my bulge had grown despite being held back by the tight fabric. He ran his fingers along the side of the thick shaft and I felt my dick squeeze out a big drop of precum as it reacted to the light touch.

Impressive. Now, on your knees.”

I sank on my knees between his strong legs. He sat back on the couch and, teasing me, took his time undoing his trousers and pulling out his monster dick. It was so thick I couldn´t have wrapped my fingers around the shaft even if my hands had been free, and as I watched the shaft throbbed visibly, causing the tight foreskin to slip back and reveal the perfectly shaped head. A drop of precum glistened at the tip, and I leaned over and caught it with my tongue. The man tasted sweet, and I wanted more. My mouth started dripping with saliva as I licked at the tip, then wrapped my lips around the shaft and massaged the underside of his dickhead with my tongue. He let out a groan, clearly into what I was doing, but soon he wanted more. I felt his hand grab a fistful of my hair, and the huge cock started slipping deeper into my mouth, stretching my throat to its limits around the hard, veined shaft. He forced me to suck his dick for some time, then guided my tongue to worship his balls. They were in the same league with his dick, large and heavy, and I barely managed to take just one when he began stuffing my mouth with them. Globs of saliva were dripping down to the floor as I struggled with his smooth heavy ballsack, trying to take both of his balls into my mouth, in vain. Then it was back to cocksucking, and he soon had me gasping and spluttering with my efforts to please him. All the time, I knew this wasn´t what the bonus was for, and I grew both more anxious and excited when his rock hard cock began to leak mouthfuls of thick precum and I knew he´d soon have to switch the action somewhere else. He managed to hold back longer than I would have thought, but eventually he couldn´t take it any more no matter how hard he tried, and he had to push me away, on the very brink of shooting his load. Alex had taught me well.

He stood up, his cock dripping a mixture of saliva and precum on my upturned face, and pulled me up to him. I´d been kneeling in front of him for so long that my legs were shaking, and with one big arm he held me tight against him while his fingers first played with my lips and then he slowly pushed his hand into my mouth, deeper and deeper, until my face was all scrunched up and my jaw almost breaking. Enjoying my attempts to pull back and fight him off when I could no longer breathe, his big arm only wound tighter around my body like a constrictor snake. Too big and strong for me, I felt his massive hard-on rub against my stomach as I squirmed his firm grip. Finally, with a smile, he let me go. I gasped for breath as his hand slipped out of my mouth, and I tried to step back, but he didn´t let me.

I think you should sit down.”

Still wearing his suit, with only the zipper open, he easily set me down on the couch. I thought he was going to pull down my underwear but instead he got on his knees on the couch, straddling my legs. His huge hard-on slapped against my face, and for a while I was again forced to lick his heavy balls. With my hands tied behind my back, and his strong legs pinning mine against the couch, I was completely at his mercy. When his balls were all slick and dripping with saliva, he massaged my lips with his glistening dickhead and then slowly thrust with his hips until I had a mouthful of his massive, leaking shaft.

“That´s a nice coin you´ve got there,” he said, unclasping the chain and throwing it on the heap of my clothes on the floor. “We won´t need it.”

I felt a stab of anxiety for losing the coin, but as long as it remained within the range of hundred meters I´d be all right. Then, with his eyes locked on mine to see when I´d realize what he was doing, he undid the knot of his tie and started pulling it off. I tried to ask, what are you doing, but his hard-on in my mouth worked as a gag and only a slobbery mumble came out. I tried again, and he pushed his cock a little deeper into my mouth, to drive the point home. When he started wrapping the other end of the tie around his left hand to form a garrote I panicked and tried to wriggle myself free, but with his weight on top of me it was utterly useless. I felt spit run down from the corners of my mouth and drip on my chest as I attempted to talk to him, to beg him to stop, but I could tell he was only being turned on more by my fear. Without pulling his dick out of my mouth, he wrapped the Italian silk tie around my neck, and then folded the other end of the garrote around his right hand. Very slowly, watching me closely to savor the moment, he started pulling the silky rope tighter.

I felt blood begin to pack into my face, swelling my eyes and lips, and his shaft grew even harder in my mouth when he saw the first signs of strangulation. Gradually, my windpipe started to tighten under the pressure and as I sputtered and fought to draw a breath he slowly fucked my mouth, each thrust a little deeper than the previous one. For some time, he allowed me just enough air to continue fucking my throat, and then, without a warning, he pulled his dick out and instantly tightened the garrote to keep me silent. Suddenly I couldn´t breathe at all. Staring down at my face wet with tears, spit and his precum, he smiled. Then, just as he loosened the garrote to allow me to breathe, his thick hard-on was back in my mouth. He liked to play with me, to see how long he could keep me silent either by his hard-on or the garrote. Even in my panicked distress I realized that his smile was growing harder the longer he kept me on the edge of strangulation. There was worse to come.

Finally, he shifted all his weight down on my legs, bringing his face almost at level with mine. I was completely immobilized, and I could tell from his expression that the warm-up was done. The serious part was starting now. He pulled the garrote tight around my neck, but didn´t stop at the point where I could no longer breathe. He was going further. The world was starting to get black around the edges when I couldn´t take it any longer and had to relay the order to the drones.

Less than two seconds later, Yegorov suddenly pulled back away from me and jumped on his feet. With an expression mixed with alarm and pain, he reached for his back, at a spot somewhere between his shoulder blades. That was the safe area for the acid-like injection: for three minutes, before the substance would evaporate without leaving any trace, the pain would be so severe that if he could reach the area he might tear off patches of skin and tissue just to get rid of the invisible source of pain. After just another second he couldn´t stop a guttural scream of pain as he frantically pulled off his jacket and popped the buttons of his shirt, thinking that the origin of the pain was somewhere in his clothes. I scrambled on my feet just as the two in-suite bodyguards barged into the room, guns raised. Yegorov let out another scream, this one far louder, and threw himself against the back of an armchair only to rub the substance deeper into his skin. He fell to the floor, writhing in pain. It was instantly clear to the guard that I couldn´t be the origin of trouble of this magnitude and they lowered their guns.

Please,” I asked one of them, showing him my bound wrists.

You stay here,” he growled, unaware of the consequences of not letting me go, while his colleague leaned over his boss to try to understand what was happening.

Both guards were hit within a second, and neither had Yegorov´s self-control. I was sure all the adjoining rooms heard their screams. I ran for the door where the two guards who´d been stationed outside were already scrambling with the lock, and when they saw me I yelled, “Help!”

Distracted by the screams, neither one gave me a second thought as they ran by me. I slipped out, to be faced by the last twosome from the elevator. One of them – the bigger and nastier one, if that was possible – had the presence of mind to order me to stop at gunpoint while his colleague ran into the room to investigate. No one came out of the room, and the guard pointed his gun at the open door.

I have to go,” I stammered, and tried to walk by him towards the staircase emergency exit, but his gun moved back to my direction and he barked something in a language I didn´t know.

He went down like the others, or that´s what I thought first. I was halfway to the exit when a bullet hit the wall at the height of my shoulder, and I crouched and dived the last few meters, then threw myself at the wide panic handle to slam the door open. Only then I remembered that I´d left the coin in the suite. Someone finding it wasn´t the problem; it would self-destruct, but inside a building like this the range of my neural mesh would be far shorter than hundred meters. Most likely, half of the massive hotel would be out of reach of the coin. I was only wearing underwear and a necktie - with a very bad knot - and my wrists were bound behind my back. To make things worse, the toughest of the bodyguards continued to be either half immune or simply too big and dumb to feel the burn like the others, and I heard him bang the door open above me after I´d only descended a single floor. I would have to make it through six more floors to reach the safe room, and then, with a shock, I realized that the key card was in the pocket of my trousers. I had nowhere to go.

The heavy footsteps of the guard were stomping down the stairs after me, and when I heard another infuriated scream I knew he´d been shot with another dose. With my bound wrists I couldn´t move fast enough and he was gaining on me, and I had no choice but to leave the staircase and return to the public areas of the hotel. There was yet another bear-like growl, a sign of another hit, as I went through an emergency door. The man was tough, but now even he was finally showing signs of being slowed down.

At the other end of the long corridor someone in a tuxedo was searching his pockets for a key card. I myself had only one card left to play: Engineer´s wily tricks. I ran along the corridor, calling for the man while trying to keep my voice down not to alarm the other guests behind their doors. As I got closer and closer I thought the man looked familiar, and to my shock I realized it was none other than Carlo Brambilla, in town for some shady deal with the NATO.

He stared at me, utterly stunned.

Carlo,” I called at him, running closer. “Open the door. Quick.”

He didn´t move.

Nice to see you again, um, whatever your name is,” Carlo said when I reached him, his upper lip curled with disgust. “Dressed up for the occasion?”

Carlo, there´s no time,” I stuttered. “Nazer Yegorov´s bodyguards will crash through that door any second. They´re armed and they´ll shoot at sight.”

I have no doubt,” he said sarcastically but I could tell I´d managed to shake him, and he pulled out his key card.

Please,” I begged him, with no need to feign terror. I was probably out of reach of the relay transmitter and therefore, if I died, the next Jonatan would no longer be me. Just like I wasn´t the original. Besides, I was pretty sure that getting shot wasn´t a pleasurable experience.

Merda,” he muttered under his breath, furious at himself, and opened the door.

I couldn´t believe he had let me in. Another sobering sign of the power Engineer held over human beings. Just as the door was closing behind us, the bodyguard finally made it through the emergency door with a slam, cursing out loud.

“Did he see us come in,” I asked fearfully as the lock clicked shut.

I don´t know,” Carlo said, unhelpfully.

We should step back from the door,” I whispered as thumping footsteps drew closer along the corridor. “They are heavily armed.”

We moved into the room and I couldn´t help noticing that the furnishings were just as luxurious as in the Presidential Suite. The footsteps passed by the door, and I couldn´t hold back a sigh of relief.

“I´m so sorry I got you involved,” I said quickly when it seemed that Carlo was contemplating throwing me back into the corridor now that the bodyguard was gone.

And I can´t believe I let you in,” he said, shaking his head. “What the hell was I thinking?”

I turned my back and, looking over my shoulder, asked him, “Would you please untie my wrists?”

He stepped behind me and undid the belt. “Do you need help with the tie too-” he started, and then noticed the marks around my neck.

While I got rid of the tie, he kept staring at me, his mind working.

How did you get away from them?” he asked when I sat down, figuring that it would be harder for him to throw me out if I was acting normal.

“Pepper spray,” I said airily, not stopping to dwell on the fact that my hands had been tied behind my back. “I know how to get out of hairy situations.”

I bet you do.”

Still on his feet, he ran his eyes over me to see if I´d suffered more damage, and I could tell the sight was actually beginning to turn him on. I decided it was time to send an oversized thank you card to Engineer.

Listen,” I started, hesitantly. “The blackmailing thing... Has it been hard?”

He thought about it for a moment. “Actually, no,” he answered, shaking his head. “They´ve always asked me to vote the way I wanted to vote anyway. That´s not the same as in ´the way I would have voted anyway´,” he added.

I frowned.

I´m not free to vote any which way I see fit. There are commercial and political prerogatives,” he explained. “And not having taken them into consideration, I will lose my job within the next twelve months.”

I doubt that.”

He looked at me, surprised. “Say again?”

As far as I know, you´re too important to be replaced by some rank and file bureaucrat. And you´re ours. I wouldn´t worry about losing your job.”

Carlo studied me closely, and realized that I wasn´t joking.

Who are you?”

I laughed. “Listen, if any of the people who decide your fate are gay I´ll take care of them myself.”

I have no doubt.” His eyes didn´t leave me.

I owe you,” I said simply, and only then realized how it might be interpreted. “I mean – I meant...”

I know what you meant,” he relented. “So, what next?”

I put on my thinking cap while he poured himself a drink and then sat down in an armchair, to glare at me disapprovingly. The video drone and at least one of the defensive ones would be in the room, so an extraction team would know where to find me. Come to think of it, even if I ended up dead away from the coin they could create a memory construct from the footage. A reassuring thought, considering that most likely there would be no extraction team. I´d have to get out on my own, and worst of all, I´d have to break it to Carlo that I wasn´t disappearing from his life any time soon.

Um...” I started, but he interrupted me.

Don´t tell me you have no extraction team picking you up within the next ten minutes.”

“It´s, um, possible,” I faltered. “But not – likely.” I went on before he could say anything too scathing. “I may have to spend the night here. If a team doesn´t show up, I´d really appreciate it if in the morning you picked up some clothes for me from the Printemps store near the hotel. Yegorov will surely check out from the hotel tomorrow, and as soon as he´s gone I can leave myself.”

Raised eyebrow. “Any preferences? Armani, Cavalli?”

Levi´s, please,” I said imperiously.

His ran his eyes over me. “I just wonder what the clerk will think when I give him your measures.”

It depends on the ones you give him.”

Judging by the turn of the conversation I figured we´d be in bed within two minutes. Since I badly needed a shower, it took a little longer, but I wasn´t too far off the mark in the end.



*



Mauro was waiting for me when I returned to the Rive Gauche apartment exceedingly late the next evening, tired but happy, as the saying goes. He was standing up, leaning on a wall by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows and watching the Louvre with his arms folded across his chest. The body language didn´t look too promising, and I felt chastised even though he hadn´t said a word yet.

I´m sorry it took me so long to get back,” I started. “Carlo, you know... And the operation went to hell...”

What are you talking about?” Mauro said, turning to me, eyes wide. “The operation couldn´t have gone better.” He paused, searching for words. “From our point of view, I mean. But we had no idea Yegorov was that crazy, and I personally owe you an apology for what happened.”

“Come on,” I said. “How could you have known if he never went that far with the boy in the Palace?”

True. It still wasn´t right.”

I took this job because I thought it would be fun. And exciting.” I couldn´t help a grin. “And I can´t deny I had fun, at least most of the time.”

I can see that.” Mauro´s good humor returned as he observed my clothes.

Carlo had taken a quick and easy route while shopping for clothes, having simply given a salesperson my measures for a uniform of the Saint-Denis Catholic School for Boys. It had come complete with shoes, a tie and the school pin for the jacket lapel. Once he´d returned, I´d soon discovered that convenience hadn´t been by far the only reason for the choice.

Listen,” I said, unable to stop a frown. “Did the coin pick up my signal or did we lose something?”

We lost some,” Mauro admitted, as if it had been his own personal shortcoming. “It took us about thirty minutes to place another one within range outside Carlo´s hotel room.”

More or less in time to see Carlo force his obscenely big dick up into my lubed ass.

But the drone feeds can be used for a memory construct?”

Mauro nodded. “Our AIs are pretty good at that.”

“Excellent. There were some moments I´d hate to lose the memory of.”

I bet,” Mauro said with a smile, but then his expression turned more serious than I would have preferred. “As you know, our relationship with the Axiom is not exactly belligerent despite certain obvious disagreements.”

No use fighting over some indigenous primitives?” I couldn´t help sniping.

Shrug. “Basically, yes.” He then searched for the right words for a moment. “There are official channels of communication, and then some that could be called ´unofficial´. And we´ve heard that you have become something of a priority.”

I was taken aback. “That doesn´t sound good.”

Your, let´s say, resilience, isn´t doing much for certain egos.”

And I need to disappear for a while.”

That would be a good idea.”

I thought about it for a moment. “Maybe I should go back home, then. Haven´t been there ever since you and I first met.”



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