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January 18, 2006

Jim: Meeting For Lunch

The tailored Italian suit fit Jake like a second skin as he followed the maître d' to a table by the window. Jake carefully placed his briefcase between his feet and adjusted his carnation boutonnière.

“The llama chops here are especially tender,” said the man seated at the next table.

Without looking over, Jake gave the countersign, “I usually prefer peanut butter on Tuesdays.”

The man deftly slid an identical briefcase under Jake’s table. “It’s all in there, Mr. Figonetti,” the man said. “Ten kilos of Columbia’s finest.”

“The name’s Sergeant Mirelli,” Jake replied, flashing his badge. “And you’re under arrest.”

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