Logs for ShadowRN and Associated Mailing Lists

From:	Paul J. Adam Shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk
Subject:	Planning
Date:	Sat, 13 Feb 1999 13:18:37 +0000

Message no. 1 *****INTERNAL: SIGANet
>>>>>[TO: Captain L R W Lynch

Just so you know what's going on.

+++++begin video
A conference room. Not in SIGA's crowded, threadbare annex in the D-Ring
of the Pentagon, though this could be in the same sprawling building.
Light wood and blue hessian furniture, a softly carpeted floor, in fact
generally pleasant amenities.

The reason may have to do with the foreigners present. Quinn hardly
counts as such, though she's there and sitting uncharacteristically
quietly. Like about a third of those there, she's in uniform: working
dress, with her dark red beret tucked under one epaulette.

On one side of her sits another blonde woman in the grey tabby-cat
camouflage of Rusanov's Rebels; her shoulder boards and name tag
identify her as Captain Dane, but that's merely a useful deception for
Esmeralda Diaz, better known as "Emma".

The other side of Quinn, Pendleton and Harcourt are their usual
mismatched pairing: the Aryan Elf groomed to perfection in a Saville Row
suit, the stocky human looking uncomfortable in something off-the-peg
and a tie with either an ugly print, or a tea stain.

Coppinger is, as usual, almost a blind spot in the room, lacking any
memorable detail.

Admiral Kowalski, beside him, is busy with a message pad, reading
rapidly and entering a reply every so often: every so often, quietly
asking something of Commander Tarkington (far better known as the Horny
Toad).

An empty chair awaits its occupant, and then Senator Trenton of the
Oversight Committee ends the group.

Kowalski looks up from the pad. "Okay. Lilith just checked in. She and
Mitchell just made it to the final RV."

"Casualties?" Coppinger enquires.

"Ours or theirs?" Kowalski sighs. "Ours, none that we know of. Sounds
like everyone's getting out okay."

"And in Vegas?"

"If you believe the police radio and the news, a few thousand." The
Admiral shakes her head. "Trying to do some BDA from what's being
shown... figure thirty to sixty dead and twice that wounded. Mostly
cops."

"Higher than I wanted, lower than I expected." Trenton acknowledges.
"But, damn it, I hate signing off on 'collateral damage'."

"The end may justify the means, as long as there is something that
justifies the end." Quinn suggests.

"Let me guess. Napoleon?" asks Kowalski.

"Nope. Trotsky." The Coyote shaman replies, her maniac grin breaking
through for a moment. She might be subdued, but she's still her usual
self inside.

"But, it worked?" Coppinger presses.

"Yes. Just as well as we hoped... so far." Kowalski replies. "We hung
out a baited hook. Now we just have to see if Nar'moh'ach will bite."

"He'll bite." Quinn says with confidence.

"What makes you so sure?" Trenton asks.

"His second-in-command, Snake Woman, was aboard the K42. He was the
ringer who replaced Captain - Second Rank Jamara as intelligence
officer?" Pendleton explains.

Emma clears her throat. "Snake Woman was a soldier, responsible for the
Doctor's security and for administering his networks. A warrior and
spymaster."

"My God..." Kowalski laughs aloud. "And we made Mitchell the Director of
SIGA while we were building him up. It's _too_ perfect."

"Why? No way could we _ever_ have set this up on purpose." Quinn looks
around the room. "Mitchell was on the run long before the Doctor had
Jamara killed. For once, we lucked out."

"One question. How did this man, Snake Woman - someone explain that to
me later - pass so completely for Jamara?" Tarkington asks. "I mean,
cosmetic surgery's good, but only _so_ good..."

"There's ways." Quinn says. "Some of the Old Magic. Lilith knows some of
it, I've read a couple of her books. One way you can do it..." She grins
evilly. "You need the fresh, warm body of the person you want to look
like. Assorted special ritual ingredients. Including, but not limited
to, a knife, a fork, and a really big bottle of ketchup."

Around the table, the reaction is probably what she'd hoped for.

"You're saying Snake Woman _ate_ Jamara?" Toad says incredulously.

"Well, if you're casting 'Consume Likeness'... The Coyote shaman cackles
with laughter. "There's other ways, but that's the quick-and-dirty
method. Seems like one of the easier ones, too."

"I really, really hope you don't plan on trying that yourself." Toad
shudders.

"Nope. I don't mess with that stuff. I _do_ read up on it, though. Know
thine enemy."

Coppinger clears his throat. "Anyway. Now we've got that settled, we
need to start planning our next moves. And I think we can allow the good
Captain Cordovez to join us. Diaz, do you want to leave?"

Emma thinks carefully. "No. He's unlikely to recognise me, and I hope
you'll vouch for me if he does."

"Naturally. Very well, Toad, could you invite him in?"
<sequence compressed>
+++++end video

Good work, by the way. Neater than expected.]<<<<<
-- D J H Coppinger <13:18:43/02-13-60>
Director
Strategic Intelligence Gathering Agency

From:	Paul J. Adam Shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk
Subject:	Planning
Date:	Sat, 13 Feb 1999 13:18:37 +0000

Message no. 2 *****INTERNAL: SIGANet
>>>>>[TO: Captain L R W Lynch

Just so you know what's going on.

+++++begin video
A conference room. Not in SIGA's crowded, threadbare annex in the D-Ring
of the Pentagon, though this could be in the same sprawling building.
Light wood and blue hessian furniture, a softly carpeted floor, in fact
generally pleasant amenities.

The reason may have to do with the foreigners present. Quinn hardly
counts as such, though she's there and sitting uncharacteristically
quietly. Like about a third of those there, she's in uniform: working
dress, with her dark red beret tucked under one epaulette.

On one side of her sits another blonde woman in the grey tabby-cat
camouflage of Rusanov's Rebels; her shoulder boards and name tag
identify her as Captain Dane, but that's merely a useful deception for
Esmeralda Diaz, better known as "Emma".

The other side of Quinn, Pendleton and Harcourt are their usual
mismatched pairing: the Aryan Elf groomed to perfection in a Saville Row
suit, the stocky human looking uncomfortable in something off-the-peg
and a tie with either an ugly print, or a tea stain.

Coppinger is, as usual, almost a blind spot in the room, lacking any
memorable detail.

Admiral Kowalski, beside him, is busy with a message pad, reading
rapidly and entering a reply every so often: every so often, quietly
asking something of Commander Tarkington (far better known as the Horny
Toad).

An empty chair awaits its occupant, and then Senator Trenton of the
Oversight Committee ends the group.

Kowalski looks up from the pad. "Okay. Lilith just checked in. She and
Mitchell just made it to the final RV."

"Casualties?" Coppinger enquires.

"Ours or theirs?" Kowalski sighs. "Ours, none that we know of. Sounds
like everyone's getting out okay."

"And in Vegas?"

"If you believe the police radio and the news, a few thousand." The
Admiral shakes her head. "Trying to do some BDA from what's being
shown... figure thirty to sixty dead and twice that wounded. Mostly
cops."

"Higher than I wanted, lower than I expected." Trenton acknowledges.
"But, damn it, I hate signing off on 'collateral damage'."

"The end may justify the means, as long as there is something that
justifies the end." Quinn suggests.

"Let me guess. Napoleon?" asks Kowalski.

"Nope. Trotsky." The Coyote shaman replies, her maniac grin breaking
through for a moment. She might be subdued, but she's still her usual
self inside.

"But, it worked?" Coppinger presses.

"Yes. Just as well as we hoped... so far." Kowalski replies. "We hung
out a baited hook. Now we just have to see if Nar'moh'ach will bite."

"He'll bite." Quinn says with confidence.

"What makes you so sure?" Trenton asks.

"His second-in-command, Snake Woman, was aboard the K42. He was the
ringer who replaced Captain - Second Rank Jamara as intelligence
officer?" Pendleton explains.

Emma clears her throat. "Snake Woman was a soldier, responsible for the
Doctor's security and for administering his networks. A warrior and
spymaster."

"My God..." Kowalski laughs aloud. "And we made Mitchell the Director of
SIGA while we were building him up. It's _too_ perfect."

"Why? No way could we _ever_ have set this up on purpose." Quinn looks
around the room. "Mitchell was on the run long before the Doctor had
Jamara killed. For once, we lucked out."

"One question. How did this man, Snake Woman - someone explain that to
me later - pass so completely for Jamara?" Tarkington asks. "I mean,
cosmetic surgery's good, but only _so_ good..."

"There's ways." Quinn says. "Some of the Old Magic. Lilith knows some of
it, I've read a couple of her books. One way you can do it..." She grins
evilly. "You need the fresh, warm body of the person you want to look
like. Assorted special ritual ingredients. Including, but not limited
to, a knife, a fork, and a really big bottle of ketchup."

Around the table, the reaction is probably what she'd hoped for.

"You're saying Snake Woman _ate_ Jamara?" Toad says incredulously.

"Well, if you're casting 'Consume Likeness'... The Coyote shaman cackles
with laughter. "There's other ways, but that's the quick-and-dirty
method. Seems like one of the easier ones, too."

"I really, really hope you don't plan on trying that yourself." Toad
shudders.

"Nope. I don't mess with that stuff. I _do_ read up on it, though. Know
thine enemy."

Coppinger clears his throat. "Anyway. Now we've got that settled, we
need to start planning our next moves. And I think we can allow the good
Captain Cordovez to join us. Diaz, do you want to leave?"

Emma thinks carefully. "No. He's unlikely to recognise me, and I hope
you'll vouch for me if he does."

"Naturally. Very well, Toad, could you invite him in?"
<sequence compressed>
+++++end video

Good work, by the way. Neater than expected.]<<<<<
-- D J H Coppinger <13:18:43/02-13-60>
Director
Strategic Intelligence Gathering Agency

From:	"Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK>
Subject:	Planning
Date:	Sun, 18 May 1997 22:46:21 +0100

Message no. 3 *****INTERNAL: Farmer Archive
>>>>>[+++++begin trideo
Two figures, walking along a narrow track through woodland. The camera
is trailing them Both are wearing civilian clothing, but one is hooded.

"Calamity. Worse, catastrophe. How could you fail so badly when all the
pieces were in place?" A hissing, electronic voice, impossible to judge
accent.

The reply is in a Midwestern accent. "There were complications-"

"There are always complications, Farmer, the measure of a man is how he
deals with them. In what way was the intervention of SIGA's North
American agents unexpected? You assured me that all was taken care of.
That there would be no difficulties. That we could decapitate the UCAS
and leave them warring with Maxim. Tell me, Farmer, at what point were
you wrong?" The electric voice buzzes with sarcasm.

"About the same point where you decided your island stronghold was
invulnerable. About the time you assured me Drake would take care of
Lynch and I need not concern myself. About the time you promised me
Zicahuata would-"

"Enough!" the hooded man barks. "We are into damage control now. Your
position is still secure, correct?"

"Without Emma I'm vulnerable. I need her back-"

"You cannot have her. She is probably dead."

"What? She was alive when she was delivered to you-"

"I judged that she required... treatment. She fought it, broke free,
escaped. I triggered her destruct charges, and now I merely await her
corpse being found. If it ever is: the charges were small and located
only in the cerebral cortex, her body would survive in a vegetative
state for some time and would be of considerable value for both the
organs and the cyberware." the hooded man replies, sibilantly. The drone
follows them around a curve in the track. "In any case, she is beyond
our reach. You must make do with what you have."

"And I'm short of funds." The other man pleads.

A hiss of anger. "Are not we all? Your British network is compromised.
Chicago and its opportunities are collapsing. Without Emma, we have lost
our conduit to that fool Harbinger and his Mayan gold. Can you not find
some source of revenue? Our friends in the homeland will pay well for
information-"

"Too dangerous! The FBI, the Company, SIGA will all-"

The masked man makes a dismissive gesture "We are maintaining a low
profile: there are far bigger fish for them to catch. Wild Rose was
ambitious, far-reaching, deadly. A trickle of espionage is much less
important. The Bureau can be distracted easily. The CIA you can throw
off by claiming it is a domestic matter. And I can arrange a diversion
that will weaken the faction opposing us while distracting SIGA, for a
month or three. And still on the horizon, we have the opportunity to
extract our people from close supervision, and do the UCAS great
damage."

"I'd hardly plan on the basis of a year-old Matrix intercept-"

"The opportunity is superb, the risks minimal, the costs small. Nothing
from that moment's carelessness has changed: the summits alternate and
the one we need, and the travel arrangements, are still as they should
be. If they change, you will take care of it. In the meantime, maintain
your position. Use your agents to sell data to the homeland. Avoid the
Matrix now, you will be watched."

The masked man reaches to clap his companion on the shoulder with a
gloved hand and the other flinches back: the hooded man uses his other,
ungloved hand to finish the gesture. "Our ambitions are still within
reach, my friend. We must fix our eyes upon our goal, allow nothing to
distract us."
+++++end trideo]<<<<<
-- Farmer <22:45:39/05-18-58>

From:	"Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK>
Subject:	Planning
Date:	Thu, 14 Aug 1997 16:01:47 +0100

Message no. 4 *****PRIVATE: Farmer Archive
>>>>>[+++++begin transcript

+++++answer after four rings
+++++negotiating encryption........done
+++++line check...........checking.........clean

"Farmer."

Harrow here. A scout team's in place and I have an excellent infiltrator
standing by. We should have solid data within a few days.

"Excellent. The other matter?"

I haven't begun recruiting yet, and I've already got a possible. It
should only need one person for the job, the ship is reliable.

"Are you sure?"

Combine's a good judge of character. And the crew might be dregs, but
Combine has plenty of leverage on the owner, and if he blackballs those
sailors they'll never work again. Putting some security aboard is just
insurance.

I'm worried, though. That shipment dangerously depletes our stocks. We
barely have enough to support our own operations now, let alone support
Akbar -

"I'll take care of it. There's a good candidate available."

As long as you're sure, sir.

"We're back on track, Harrow. Never fear."
+++++end call]<<<<<
-- Farmer <16:02:12/08-14-58>

From:	"Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK>
Subject:	Planning
Date:	Thu, 28 May 1998 23:48:46 +0100

Message no. 5 *****PRIVATE: Farmer Archive
>>>>>[+++++begin transcript

F: Farmer
U: Unidentified Electronic Voice

U: Reaper's already making an impression, it seems.

F: He is indeed. He's clean?

U: Even Harrow now has no memory of who Reaper is, beyond the codename
and a general idea of ability. It's covered.

F: Excellent. And yes, he's making a splash, isn't he? I was _proud_ of
that one.

U: You planned it?

F: The Pink Salamanders were my own - well, Harrow's - creation, for
just this eventuality. There to hold those three until their release
would be useful. Pity Reaper killed all the evidence. <laughter> They
made some useful money, too.

U: Very good. Some media anger where he beat up the reporter, but most
people are happy about the rescue. Ruthless force to save the
helpless from the evil urban predators. Watch his profile, though.

F: With CoT gone, the main risk is gone. He's expendable, after all. So
he gets killed in the line of duty? Publicity's a positive benefit.
_Another_ martyr killed protecting the ungrateful, ungracious public.

U: Very well. Handle it as you see fit. Are you placed to begin the
plan?

F: It's underway, but we need to amend the details.

U: We do?

F: Random violence won't work. It is to a city what interrogation is to
a man. Rushing in, knocking him down, kicking him savagely... He
curls up on the floor and soaks it up. Seattle's inured to mass
murder by irrational psychopaths. What did it achieve for CoT? Very
little. Life went on. There were _lotteries_ for each day's body
count.

Oh, it was a shock the first few times lunatics killed strangers.
Then it became routine, unless you were directly involved. News
stations started demoting CoT atrocities because they were 'old
news'. They stopped sending camera crews for anything less than
twenty dead, because it was "boring" to see the same thing over and
over.

We have to do better. We need to cause fear, not merely carnage. We
should be focussed, precise. We need to be surgeons, not butchers.
Instead of a random beating, showering the city with casual atrocity,
we must administer pinpoints of pure agony and terror. Less actual
damage, but more fear, more pain, more horror. Incidents that cause
alarm less for what we _did_, than what we _could_ do.

U: A fascinating analysis and analogy. And, to be honest, I agree. The
operational plan predated CoT, and their work shows weaknesses I
should have seen. Work on it and we'll adjust the plan.

F: You know I don't shy from violence. But, at the moment...

U: A true and credible threat is better than a pile of bloodstained
corpses. Yes, people are too inured to mayhem. Well done. You
continue to reward my faith in you.

F: It'll be expensive in people. And it needs competent expendables,
which are somewhat at a premium here. Can we import?

U: If it's obedience you need, I can provide you with a hundred or more
within two weeks.

F: Sufficient. Yes, I need them obedient and adequately skilled. The
street pool can't be trusted for most of the work I have in mind, but
I do know where they can be employed.

U: Consider it done. Use the satellite link to discuss your revised
plans with Snake Woman and we'll proceed from there.
+++++end transcript]<<<<<
-- Farmer <23:45:43/05-28-59>

From:	"Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK>
Subject:	Planning
Date:	Fri, 29 May 1998 17:57:22 +0100

Message no. 6 *****INTERNAL: Archive
>>>>>[+++++begin recording

EV: Electronic Voice
SW: "Snake Woman"

EV: I assume from your demeanor that our Washington pet has alarmed you?

SW: Have you _seen_ his plan?

EV: He's merely expanded upon the original idea. As he said, Seattle is
numb to mass carnage, and single acts of cruelty can only attract so
much attention. No, this scheme has many merits. Less lethal, more
horrific. I would expect few actual deaths, except for the
penultimate act, but it will focus the minds of the leadership
marvellously. The question is, of course, motivation. We still need a
cause.

SW: Yes, there is that. I consulted with the Planners. They suggested
anti-corporate violence. It has the merit that we can target several
incidents on our own moneygrubbers with relative ease. We can use the
lack of organised corporate response to CoT-

EV: An interesting notion, but unlikely to succeed. Ryaka, Maxim, Ares,
several other corporations were active in the pursuit of CoT: Maxim
were instrumental in bringing down the keystone of their arch. No,
that could backfire on us and expose our sponsorship.

SW: The obvious target, then?

EV: Whether pro- or anti-metahuman, that target's been shot to pieces.
The hotheads on both sides are dead, in jail or licking wounds in
hiding. We need a subject that will draw the loudmouths out, muddying
the waters to hide our true purpose... Magic. Yes, that should
suffice. We demand the expulsion of mages from society.

SW: It runs totally counter to our purpose...

EV: You expect it will have any success at all? With luck it will rally
the mageophobes, allow us to identify them, and deal with them when
the time comes. From some of the Shadowland rantings, there are quite
a few there already. No, I think this is a good one.

SW: Very well. I'll inform the puppet.

EV: He's become less of a puppet, so don't speak of him or treat him as
such. Losing Diaz forced him to develop a backbone, he's thinking for
himself much more, and I'm actually beginning to consider him a
worthy subordinate. If he survives the Plan's implementation, I think
I'll leave him in place.

SW: As long as he doesn't get Miltonian on us.

EV: His own kingdom to rule, subject only to us? What better deal could
he have anywhere?

SW: Very well. My one remaining concern is the agents. They could be
traced -

EV: Name of the Dark One! You honestly believe we'd use _our_ Mayinga?
Idiot! Even our Washington servant knew better!

SW: <surly> I voice my caution.

EV: Do not assume me to be a fool, Snake Woman. You can be replaced.
There are many who hunger for your position. Err thus again, and I
will throw you to them.

SW: Then where is the strain to be secured?

EV: It will be stolen, of course. A task of considerable difficulty, and
one with repercussions that we could turn to our advantage. I have
certain plans in that direction, and I will set them in motion.

Here. Have this list checked, quickly and with care. Show me that I
do not misplace my trust in you: show your error was a momentary
lapse, an excessive care for your country.

SW: As you command.
+++++end recording]<<<<<
-- Narmohach <17:57:43/05-29-59>

From:	"Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK>
Subject:	Planning
Date:	Sat, 6 Jun 1998 00:07:31 +0100

Message no. 7 *****PRIVATE: Haze
>>>>>[I have a target for you. Location and time guaranteed, all you
need do is pull the trigger.

The target is dangerous, capable and lucky, which is why I would prefer
_you_ to pull the trigger.

Your reputation was considerable, once. Are you still able to show how
it was earned?]<<<<<
-- Harrow <00:08:32/06-06-59>

From:	"Frank Pelletier (Trinity)" <jeanpell@****.QC.CA>
Subject:	Re: Planning
Date:	Fri, 5 Jun 1998 22:07:14 -0400

Message no. 8 *****Private: Harrow
>>>>>[I am much more than I was once before. Things are clearer now, my
thoughts sharper. You will not be disappointed.

Money? Target. That's all I ask.]<<<<<
-- Haze <21:05:32/06-05-59>

From:	"Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK>
Subject:	Re: Planning
Date:	Sat, 6 Jun 1998 16:32:09 +0100

Message no. 9 *****PRIVATE: Haze
>>>>>[The fee is >>encrypted<<.

+++++include 25% advance

The target is Lilith Running Wolf Lynch. We need her and _only_ her
killed. Other casualties, in this one matter, are unacceptable.

We will be able to provide you with a location and a time. She'll be
there: kill her.]<<<<<
-- Harrow <16:31:34/06-06-59>

From:	"Frank Pelletier (Trinity)" <jeanpell@****.QC.CA>
Subject:	Re: Planning
Date:	Sun, 7 Jun 1998 02:32:07 -0400

Message no. 10 *****Private: Harrow
>>>>>[

Lilith...

Send me the info. Consider her dead.]<<<<<
-- Haze <02:11:30/06-07-59>

From:	"Paul J. Adam" <Shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK>
Subject:	Planning
Date:	Thu, 9 Jul 1998 19:41:54 +0100

Message no. 11 *****PRIVATE: Farmer Archive
>>>>>[+++++begin transcript
F: Farmer
H: Harrow
C: Combine
T: Tractor

F: Status reports.

H: Everything we need is in place. The plan should go our way exactly.

C: Matrix frames in place, too, just as backup.

T: I'll be in place on the day.

F: Excellent. And our usual destroyers of carefully-laid plans are dead
and gone.

H: I have some concerns, though. SIGA. With Coppinger gone, Mitchell at
the helm and Von Drexler leaning on him to get the field ops he wants
done...

F: None of that is a problem.

H: You're sure?

F: Mitchell is a field agent, not an intelligence officer. He's
simplistic and brutal. Von Drexler wants immediate fame and rewards.
Long-term operations don't appeal to either of them, they want
results now. They've all but abandoned the Farmer case: that was the
bugbear of Coppinger, Lynch and Lilith. Two dead, one missiong, and
the Farmer's fallen right down the list of priorities.

Besides, you'll be out of their reach after the mission. So, why
worry?

H: True.

T: At what point do we hand over to our replacements?

F: I'll activate them after you're gone. We're changing moods for our
codenames, too. Agriculture has become too... noticeable. Time to
switch to constellations.

C: Oh, joy. A stellar future beckons.
+++++end transcript]<<<<<
-- Farmer <19:43:43/07-09-59>

From:	"Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk>
Subject:	Planning
Date:	Sat, 20 Jul 1996 11:43:28 +0100

Message no. 12 *****PRIVATE: Valentine
>>>>>[Okay, Val, I guess it's time to bite the bullet and do some
preparation. What do you need from us for a wedding, when's convenient
for you, and how many (if any) guests can you cope with?

We have a list of about a dozen folks from DC who'd want to be there,
and a fairish number of people we've got to know here in Seattle who
we'd like to at least invite. Don't want to hang out the "Nuke This
Spot" sign, though, so putting it together's going to need care. Once we
have a date, we might move somewhere like Dante's for the follow-up
(don't want to keep the children awake with our partying).

Locals I'd like to invite along are, offhand, Quinn, Sasha, JayCee,
Blade, Tangent and his guys; Buzz and family, Griffyn, Slash; AJ and
Diana. Quinn wants to bring Stormwind, which I can live with: could hire
his firm for security, actually. Don't know how many will come, but
there you go.

Believe it or not, I was hoping to invite Drake, but I guess (a) it
would have put him in a tough position professionally, (b) a few of the
other guests would have tried to kill him, (c) he won't be out of his
hearing in time.

Reason I'm running this by you is so you can warn me if any of those
guys are going to get homicidal at each other <g> or if they'll panic if
they see Coppinger and a few fairly senior uniforms there (off duty, but
still...)]<<<<<
-- Lynch <11:43:15/07-20-57>

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