Commercial - 4 
After several days of uncertainty, July 20, the library is really admirable sequence. The sooner you tell where it comes from the mysterious system that is the source of the story.
But for now I just write here the beginning of the novel, if You want to get an idea. There is no reason why the good guys win. And it usually does not happen.
But in the end not even the bad guys win. It is true indeed that the bad guys always end badly.
In any case, the triumph bad or good, nobody wins anything.
1
I've always loved the characters claims. Better yet treacherous, especially women. Why are the gods or fate mocking someone just gives them the task of moving our lives, tearing the boring daily swamp.
I am fascinated by the fact that the subjects are not limited to a few basic models, but instead articulate a wide plethora of types, families, species. In alphabetical order by Alien Zombie, Cannibal through, fool, Orc, Paranoid, and so on. The S will even book more than one, the Serial Killer the sadist and the Ripper, in addition to the Mad Scientist. Of all my sympathies are special precisely the latter which is also known as the mad genius. Also Arsonist or the Islamic terrorist are not bad (the latter slightly inflated after the fact of the Two Towers), but the mad genius has an edge over his fellow adventure: the perversion of intellect applied to the top evil, the apex of the evolutionary ladder that turns on and works for the chaos, repeated in an infinite variety of hybrids.
Typically, the mad genius ends badly: stabbed, strangled, riddled with bullets, crushed by the collapse of walls, crashed into the chasms, hung, lost in labyrinths or buried mines in narrow, drowned in liquid caustic, acids, alcohols, in filth, incandescent lava. Or crushed in the gears of huge, electrocuted by high voltage, remote laboratories in hibernating Arctic, or corroded by sublimated, evaporated or flame from burning gas or solar dust explosion, dynamite, gun cotton, atomic fission. Dragged into the sidereal void rockets in flight, or submerged in sinking of ship, by clipping giant octopus, crushed by carnivorous plants, torn by the Kraken, nibbled by fairs or crushed by rampant crabs, moray eels bites, smudged by rabid dogs, bitten by snakes or scorpions point, eaten by termites, seized by pain reawakened corpses. Sometimes executed with all the guarantees of the law, but more often contemptuously eliminated on the spot with axes and axes, maces, two-edged swords, spears, grenades, flares, combustion or natural gas. Irradiated by roentgen rays, ultraviolet, gamma and alpha system in realistic stories, or making it invisible from the theta and zeta, which shrinks from, those of pure fantasy.
And then there is one that is for me the most: stabbed by a huge statue of a carillon bell tower on top of a pseudo-Connecticut. Question in this case the Nazi, but is equally applicable. Orson Welles could only come to a head thing, but Welles is himself a mad genius and should be in the catalog.
I glanced at the computer screen, waiting for the site of Morningstar gave the close of trading in Tokyo. And meanwhile I was wondering where to put Cimbro Hermes and her daughter. He conjured up many of the parameters of that type, but without the muddy grandeur that always accompanies it. If ever we were more in the maniac, so at first sight. For his appearance in general but especially to the speeches, the way to peer into the daughter of adoration and awe, the act of continuous incongruous to wash the crease of his trousers. For the long run looks the crimson stone of his ring, a kind of mystical divination. And also for the ring, from the tribal chief of the Congo when he was Belgian. His daughter suggested
instead more likely to hold extreme positions successfully. Over thirty, perhaps more self-confident and chattering of the Dark Lady Classic, but still intriguing. Beautiful, definitely, in no way hampered by a subtle asymmetry in the game of the limbs and in the corners created by the planes of the face, which also circumvented the gold standard measure of a perfect geometry. With her white skin and delicate, barely flecked with freckles on the cheeks, in striking contrast with the olive complexion of man, his hands and sharp nails vampire harmonics, compared to fathers rather than massive, animated by a secret force and iugulatoria, hot coal-black eyes against the sight of him, glaucous and deadly. And then there were
those incredible natural red hair, a deep mahogany, erotic. The red of the heroines of comics, ever seen. He looked out from a table of Milton Caniff, complete with a screening for the light and shade.
not that shines for brevity, and in telling tended to overlap and give the entry. I tried a cigarette in his pockets to help me follow the story.
things, stripped of digressions, were these: in the autumn of 1924 the Seven Dwarfs, acrobats known at the time, had died in the course of a blatant exercise without a net. And some Cimbro Aristotle, their relatives, was considered responsible for the fact from popular opinion.
The Seven Dwarfs were not, however, dwarfs and were not seven. As for the number there were just five and the total was achieved only by two generations of circus, for obvious symbolic reasons. The two appeared in the same circus livery of pale blue coat and knickers, they entered the arena with their mingling in the crowd, then ascended up to the best harnesses and there they remained rare, inert and well clinging to the ropes, without looking too far down the avoidance of troublesome dizziness. As for the
nanitudine, they soared to an average of six English feet, which is not just for people forced to lightness, and it was far far from contemptible in those years. They were also crowned dall'alone of great wealth, which was confirmed by a vortex cars, clothes great cut and beautiful women in tow.
So when that November in the fatal accident occurred melancholy, he died of Dwarves only real ones, since there is no reason for a bigger disgrace. But the infernal uproar, which kindled the fall of the whole bunch including the two who had dodged the big trip, were counted in death as they had been alive. Relatives and friends did not think of having to disprove a universal recognition that the correction would require tedious explanations, and still a plaque on their splendid mausoleum at Milan Monumental reading "The Seven Dwarfs circling up there."
Cimbro Aristotle was at the material used Grand Circus Bandini, precisely where the danger of the Seven. Place non-defined administrative tasks, helped to assemble and disassemble the sheet, took care of the animals even more dangerous, entertained the old caravan in their moments of logorrhea. He also maintained, patched and oliava tools of fantasy and acrobats and screws and reinforcement occurred, trying to assure a scrap quell'equivoca stunted survival.
Fallen Dwarves, because of the strength of the cord that held the whole shebang, it was immediately pointed out to the public ones: plus does not seem that enjoyed great respect, having reputation of skirts and player, assiduous frequenter of brothels is that of all the tables green, all the casinos and all casinos that its limited resources allowed him to achieve. And beyond these, if ever there was to give credence to the rumors.
A quick inquiry indicates that the Dwarves had kicked the bucket for vainglorious inattention, and was not made any official charges. The Cimbro however, remained burdened by boulders unspoken accusation. But not long languished in sorrow. Resigned from the circus, as if he wanted to erase the memory of the blame as well, giving himself to wandering uncertain, perhaps abroad, of which little had been able to rebuild. Evaporated in a vague dimension, including confidentiality and flight, interrupted by stunted postcards up to the tragic death. Occurred two years later in a hotel Côte d'Azur, apparently as a result of an attempted robbery. From
became first a living being a prime example of divine justice, then by anecdote. The French police had conducted a brief investigation without joining anything. Her things, along with some papers were returned through the consular authorities to the family, then living in Milan. A clerk hurried from Rome had arrived with a trunk of clothes and a sealed envelope to the formalities of delivery. It is hoped that the man was the bearer of some particular novel, which would bring light on the matter, but the officials had shrugged, enigmatic and silent as any messenger from beyond the tomb.
"Aristotle Cimbro was the son of Aegisthus, who died before the Great War. He had two brothers, Evander and Ariodante, "she said.
"Excuse me?"
"Ariodante, my father. He died in '57, a victim of the terrible epidemic of Asian flu. A global tragedy "he pointed out, with obstinacy and historical registry.
"Oh, sure." I did a quick calculation: "The Dwarfs in '24 instead. More than eighty years ago. And then what happened? "
she spoke up again. "All his personal effects were returned to Evander, the eldest surviving. Dad was not even born then. "
annoyed I took a look toward the parent. Obviously that had not been born yet then given the difficulties, and it had not yet been completely forgiven. I scored "Evandro" on a post-it. "Evander, brother of Aristotle and his father, Ariodante. Right? "
" He kept everything to himself. He never married nor had children. "
" Who? "
" Evandro Cimber, of course! "
began to lose the thread. I added the post-it sketch a family tree for safety. Cimber I tended to repeat the same in different generations, with only small differences in names, all more or less like a line from archaic Greek tragedy. Or Louis of France, another nightmare.
'He died in '45, Switzerland. It was repaired there, knows the tragic events of the war ... uncle likes of Evander was, well, questionable, in light of our modern sensibility ... "thought at this point to explain him. Then little more than a child, he remembered those days, excited like a dream, the shock in the family, the speeches of the great behind closed doors. The sense of confusion that had occurred something irreparable.
"In '44 he joined the SS in Italian, with the rank of major. You understand that after April 25 ... "he clarified his daughter.
I understood very well. A man of character. Not inclined to second the changing nature of fronts. Tratteggiai mentally picture, complete with a glittering death's head insignia. "The family has heard nothing. Until last year. You received a notice of the Union Bank of Switzerland. We have tried them, have heard, the issue of accounts opened by refugees during the war ... "
It seems to me to remember something. The money of the deportees, mostly. That these Paraculo the Swiss were held. There was a scandal, they had made half of American Jews. Eventually the government had to intervene to force the banks to give back something.
"We have restored the contents of a safe. Some object of value ... and some papers. "
'It's all very interesting. But what can I do for you? I did not understand exactly ... "
They rushed a quick glance. "We'd like enterprise engaged in an investigation."
