The brigadier didn’t want to give away any secrets. He didn’t want to tell Mahmoud that the Whatsitsname he had written about—the Frankenstein’s monster in his article—was not fantasy but a real person, or that he had spent most of his time for the last several months trying to have him arrested, or that his personal life and his professional future were riding on this strange man, or that he was trying to dispel the aura of mystery with which the man surrounded himself, or that he had sworn to grab him with his own hands and expose him on television so the whole world could see he was nothing
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