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PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

He lay there alone, along the back alley of a narrow street that wound through the marketplace in St. Thomas, dipped in a pool of red blood. For a long while, no one noticed. The street he lay on was not well traveled, and the few people who passed through it walked around him.

As the sun rose, bringing the heat of the day, merchants began opening their shops, and shoppers taking their first tentative steps. Suddenly, a shriek broke through the quiet. The shriek sounded fiercely, like the call of a bugle, for a long, long time.

People came running. An island woman, walking through the alley, had stepped on the man. Hands over her eyes, she could not stop shrieking. The dead man’s bulging eyes stared back out at her, only adding to her terror.

“Why me? Why did I have to find this? Lord, Lord!” she screamed, “Have mercy! Mercy!”

The crowd closed in, peering.

“Who is it? Who is it?” they demanded.

But by now his face was so distorted, it was almost impossible to say.

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