“I feel incredibly awful, how can I repay you?” he offered, as he turned back to see an employee of the store had come out, and was beginning to sweep the mess. The woman stepped back, reached over the shards of glass and began to sort through it all, hoping to find something salvageable. There was nothing. “Oh, well, you can’t. They were all hand-made. I am a glass blower. I was headed to the Eisner gallery to drop them off for a show I was supposed to have Friday.” She tried to muster a smile, but with streams of tears breaking free to leave dark trails of mascara marked across her cheeks, she knew it would seem insincere. As Alex heard this, and his eyes followed those black trails to her quivering mouth, he immediately felt as if someone had torn into his chest and pulled out his heart, just to stomp it flat. He looked up at her, nervously searching her face for some indication that he might be able to make this all right. When she realized he was staring, she turned her head. The building was over 200 feet long, and the entire length was devoted to the range. Since urban warfare does not involve shooting at much distance, this was the ideal size facility for teaching that kind of shooting and for maintaining one's skill level.The next level down was the armory. There were several racks of what I guessed to be AK-47s. Since I was not an arms expert, I just depended on what I had seen on TV and called them that. That detail wasn't important. Down below were what looked like classrooms and offices. There was a lot of paperwork in Arabic, but that meant nothing to me, since I could not read the language. I did manage to find some stuff written in English, but it turned out to be propaganda leaflets designed to justify an armed conflict between the fanatical Moslems and the general public.I couldn't do anything with the paperwork I found, but I resolved to write a translation program for my computer that could take a scanned Arabic document and present an.
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