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Marcus, I send this secret dispatch in a final attempt to reach
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you before my fate is decided. I imagine Interpol and you
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have searched for me since I descended into that fjord and
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was lost in the storm. I faced death in that hail and wind,
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though a natural rocky shelter maintained me until rescued.
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Rescued? Ha! By a Soviet named Alexei, who had my father
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hostage and wanted the Lost Idol as ransom. Alias assumed to
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prevent you following, I was forced to hunt on, galvanised by fear.
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The search took me to Goa in monsoon season. Weeks spent
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hunting spurious leads in a tuk tuk, rain every day, I nearly
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lost faith entirely. But when a vagabond pawnbroker gave an
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impromtu valuation of my old talisman, the clue I needed was
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revealed. How blind I always was! Right there was the missing
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symbol. I, via tortuous cryptography, finally deciphered its
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meaning, and with new zeal and hope headed for the Maghreb.
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There, on an ancient tomb, rune inscriptions pointed to the city
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limits where hidden markings revealed a door in the walls of the
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kasbah. A master key I found opened it, and there was the Idol!
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But Alexei cheated me. There are many ways to label a Ruskie,
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but none which adequately convey the foulness of that fiend.
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I am now trying to escape my Siberian cell at viable opportunities.
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At the coast I will look for a ship or tug, a launch even, to flee in.
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Oh, for the days we'd have taken yachts for pleasure! I now only
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wish for a normal, tame life. I fear my father, and the Idol, are lost.
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Your calamity-prone pal, Henry
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Are you a cryptic crossword aficionado by any chance?
And is your real name Henry?