the friday 56

The Friday 56

Rules: 

*Grab a book, any book. 

*Turn to page 56 or 56% in your eReader (If you have to improvise, that's ok.) 

*Find any sentence, (or few, just don't spoil it) 

*Post it. 

I'm reading The Kill Artist

From page 30:

Rami stepped outside the guardhouse and watched the old man pounding down the drive.  He was bald and thick, with steel-rimmed spectacles.  His face was dry and deeply creviced--like the Negev, thought Rami.  As usual he wore khaki trousers and an ancient leather bomber jacket with a tear on the right breast, just below the arm-pit.  Within the service there were two theories about the tear.  Some believed the jacket had been pierced by a bullet during a reprisal raid into Jordan in the fifties.  Others argued that it had been torn by the dying fingers of a terrorist whom Shamron garroted in a Cairo back alley.  Shamron always insisted gruffly that the truth was much more prosaic--the jacket had been torn on the corner of a car door--but no one within the service took him seriously.