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"This is the Green Man," he declared softly. "What's your number?"
"Seventy-nine, Carmarthen," came the reply. "A message was received at County Hall threatening the death of everyone in Carmarthen if a massive ransom isn't paid. The rendezvous point is a tiny Welsh Chapel graveyard above Myddfai." The speaker was male, possessed of a strong Welsh accent. "I got it out of one of the council staff who drinks a lot."
"Send me a full report," the Green Man spoke soberly. "Fax or e-mail. I need to know the location and the procedure. And I need to know this isn't a trap."
"As you say, Green Man," the Welsh farmer chuckled. "Remember to visit Llandudno for the Red Kites."
The Green Man smiled, assured by the repetition of this simple and common error that he was speaking to a man of integrity.
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And so it was that, just under a day later, the Green Man arrived in the small town of Llangadog, one of the most stylish towns in the Towy Valley. Passing through the town, the Green Man was able to establish himself in a deserted chapel a little outside, ordering in a good meal from another of his contacts, a chef at a local hotel. With candles burning all around him, the Green Man settled down to a good meal. He kept on his mask, although removing the lower part so that he could eat.
It was while he was finishing his pudding that one of the two huge windows in the chapel facade exploded into thousands of tiny fragments.
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