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Standing in the corner, leaning aginst the wall, is a fifth man.
If Grange is a Hummer, this guy's an 18-wheel Mack truck, thinks Roddy. Parked, with its engine idling. He reminds Roddy of Ivan Drago from that Rocky movie. The guy must stand six five and tip the scales at 270. Pure, rock-hard muscle. His crew-cut blond hair is slickly gelled; his face--especially those cheekbones and that lantern jaw--could be carved from granite. He, no doubt, spends counteless hours at some muscle emporium. Pure muscle, but probably clumsy; he would go down fast if Roddy drove a flurry of punches into his gut and face. A gold earring pierces the guy's left earlobe. The drape of the jacket on his Schwarzenegger shoulders shows a bulge on the left side. The guy's packing some serious hardware. Mack Truck stares blankly and stands rock-still, hands clasped in front of his gargantuan body.
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