Beaumont was sitting in the back booth of the Ukrainian Vodka Room with two bottles of Chernigivske Lager in front of him on the table. He had trouble pronouncing the name of this Ukrainian beer, but knew the proceeds went to a good cause in Eastern Europe, so such a minor hiccup was worth it. One of the bottles was for him and the other ready for his partner in crime, Yarnell, for whenever he showed up. Every few minutes, Beaumont would take a swallow of his own beer, glance at his watch and wonder what was going on with

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