"He was ex-military and had always endowed his movements with economy and precision, yet it was mot preciseness that kept him so erect in the chair. A heavy steel bayonet had been driven into his mouth, angling down through his neck and pinning him to the headrest. The point of the old bayonet pierced all the way through the chair back, sticking out the back side, its rough edge heavy with blood. Drops fell from the tip onto the sodden carpet."
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Dance of Death (novel)
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