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Over two three-month periods, researchers sampled air quality at five sites along metro Atlanta interstates and highways. When compared to similar sites without vegetation, the researchers found a 37% reduction in soot and a 7% reduction in ultrafine particles at sites with natural or ornamental vegetation. The findings appear in the journal PLOS ONE. “Trees and bushes near roadways don’t solve the problem of air pollution caused by motor vehicles, but they can help reduce the severity of the problem,” says lead author Roby Greenwald, associate professor in the Georgia State University School of Public Health.
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Emanuele Taglietti
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www.hpineda.com
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André Juillard
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Roissy and Langley
A large Range Rover SUV pulled up to the main entrance to Chateau Roissy. A tall man with graying hair got out and strode to the door. Although, probably in his late 50’s or early 60’s the man still had the gait of a former athlete or soldier. He opened the door without knocking and went into the Chateau. Once inside he encountered a valet who immediately stiffened and said, “Sir Stephen. We were not expecting you.”
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Meanwhile back in Washington, Maya was on the phone with an agent assigned to the embassy in Budapest. After her conversation with Sir Stephen, she had immediately called the agent and asked if he had heard anything about a man called Henri H. The agent had checked with his contact at the Rendorseg (Hungarian national Police) and called Maya back with his findings. “Indeed a Belgian National, thought to match the description Maya had provided, was found dead on the grounds of a large estate on Lake Balaton. He had been shot, apparently with a large caliber rifle,” he said. Then he continued, “The body had been found by groundskeeper who then the local police. They investigated and found that a safe inside the estate had been opened and whatever was in the safe – money? papers? drugs? who knows? - had been taken. Also, the groundskeeper said that up until yesterday, there had been something that he suspected was a security detail of some kind there at the state. The men in that detail definitely not Hungarian; they looked eastern European. The local police looked for them, but they were nowhere to be found.”
Maya thought to herself, “Hmmm. Something isn’t adding up. Sir Stephen mentioned a security detail, but only admitted shooting Henri. And he did not mention any safe inside the estate house. In fact, he never said that he went inside the estate house. So, what was inside the safe. And who took it? And who, really, were the men in the security detail?”
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Sir Stephen went right to Anne Marie’s office. She looked up from some spreadsheets on her desk and said, “Why, Stephen. What a pleasant surprise. It’s been a while since you were here.” She looked back down at the spreadsheets for a moment and then said, “I was just reviewing the slaves’ earnings. Your O has been a busy girl and has earned both the Society and you a handsome sum this month. Yes, very busy and even considering she's paid double rate as she is a personal slave. Have you come to collect her earnings?”
He responded, “No. I have come to collect O. I have taken care of the danger she was in and want to have her all to myself for a while.”
Anne Marie rose from her desk and said, “Certainly. Let’s go get her.” She looked down again at her desk. “I think she is in the library. Do you want to wait here while I have a valet fetch her, or I’ll go get her myself.”
Sir Stephen responded, “I’ll go with you.”
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aanonymouse4o · 1 day
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At Larry O'Dell's: Part Seven
Elke continued to tell Marianne what O had told her about her experiences at Roissy. “And that wasn’t all. After she blew her boyfriend those two girls who had bathed her earlier appeared. They took her away to some sort of refectory so she could wash up. Then this guy in a butler’s outfit showed up. He said his name was Pierre and he would be her valet. She asked him to wait outside, so she could pee, but he said that she would have no privacy while she was at Roissy, and he would watch. So, O squatted down over what was basically a hole in the floor. This Pierre guy watched as she let loose; I’m sure she was quite embarrassed.”
“I certainly would have been,” said Marianne. Elke continued, “Then Pierre led her to what he said would be her room while she was there. O told me that it was a tiny room that sort of reminded her of a prison cell, except the walls were painted red. There was a small platform against the wall that served as her bed. Instead of sheets there was some sort of fake fur cover. Pierre told her to go ahead and lie down. Now, remember she was still naked except for the leather collar and bracelets. He clipped her hands together using the bracelets, and then attached them to the ring in the collar around O’s neck. Then using a chain that was attached to an iron ring set in the wall, he chained her hands to that chain. O was unable to move her hands away from her face. I remember her telling me that it felt strange not to be able to touch herself.”
“I guess she couldn’t masturbate then,” said Marianne, taking a big gulp of her drink.
“Then, in the middle of the night, this Pierre character came into the room. He hauled O to her feet using the chain and then flogged her with a riding crop. The next morning Rene came in with some other guy – maybe he was one of the ones who had basically raped O the night before. He didn’t say and O never knew. Anyway, Rene holds her on the bed while this guy spreads her legs and proceeds to go down on her. He tongues her until she comes, and Rene is holding her the entire time – kissing her and fondling her breasts.”
“So, did all the girls at this Roissy place belong to some guy who wants to watch other guys fuck them and then whip them?” said Marianne.
“Sounds kind of icky, sexy, but also icky.”
“That’s what I thought at first,” replied Elke. “ But O told me there were two types of girls there at Roissy. There were girls like her whose lovers brought them, and they were treated pretty harshly, but there were also regular working girls who came of their own accord to work there. O said they weren’t treated so bad. No worse than a regular prostitute in a high class brothel. And she said those girls made a lot of money. A whole lot of money.”
“Aah. Tell me more.”
“Like I said, these girls weren’t treated so badly. True, they had to put up with some of the same bullshit – funky dresses, being chained to the bed naked at night, subject to being whipped if they misbehaved, that sort of thing, but nothing too serious.”
Marianne replied, “Yeah, that’s what that Sir Ralph character told me when I went to his apartment with Rick. For enough money, I think I could put up with that.”
“Yeah, I might could also,” said Elke, as she finished off her drink.
Marianne looked up with her coffee-colored eyes and said, “So, would you like to go with me to this Roissy place? I bet Sir Ralph could arrange it.”
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aanonymouse4o · 1 day
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When cats hold each other >>>>>>>>
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Maya: Part Five
To say the least, Maya was somewhat dumbfounded by Sir Stephen’s admission that he had shot Henri H. She said, “You did what?”
“Dear girl, I said I shot him. After all, that was what the bastard deserved.” He paused, then, “Actually, he deserved much worse for what he did to me and my property, let alone the heartbreak he caused for many others. But, shooting him was the only justice I could administer; he will have to answer to a higher authority for his other sins.” Maya composed herself and then continued, “Well, it would have been better if you had let justice take its course.”
“Whose justice, dear girl? Yours? The World Court? Mine? Who really knows? Once I shot his underling in the Thuringer Forest and retrieved my property – after all, she is very dear to me- I knew it was only a matter of time before he or one of his thugs would try to do away with us. Therefore I decided to do him in before he could extract revenge on me or on her. So, I decided to do him before he did either one of us.”
Maya made a mental note that he had finally admitted that the ’Property’ that Sir Stephen was referring to was a woman. “Was she trafficked?” thought Maya to herself. But she remained silent as the Englishman continued.
“I learned that Henri was holed up in an estate on the shores of Lake Balaton. There he was under state protection, either through bribing Orban or even worse, a business connection with him. There were security men everywhere preventing me from entering the estate. So, I took my old .308- the same .308 I used to dispose those thugs who were trailing you in Oban and crept very cautiously through the woods surrounding the estate until I found a proper hidey hole with a clear shot into the garden if he should venture there. I waited for two days,, subsisting on tinned biscuits and coffee – dreadful Hungarian coffee. Finally, Henri appeared coming out from the dining room, holding a cell phone in hand, presumably because he needed better reception. I was a good 450-500 hundred yards away. It was mid-afternoon, slight breeze from the northwest. I can’t say for sure who Henri was speaking with, but his face looked very animated when I fired.” He paused, then, “And that was that. Justice delivered.”
Maya paused. She thought to herself, “Is this the same man who would have willingly come to my defense that night in the bar? The same man who bedded me in Scotland? Who was so gentle when we began and then so rough when I said to be?” But she composed herself and remembered that she was trying to connect all the dots on the human trafficking case. She said, “You mentioned that your property was a woman.”
Sir Stephen interrupted, “Said or implied?”
“Well, implied, I guess. But I have to ask – was this woman, your property as you say – trafficked?”
Sir Stephen replied, “Oh no! Of course not! True, she was ‘given’ to me in a manner. From my own half-brother. But she willingly gave herself to him and then even more willingly to me. O was not trafficked, she became my slave by her own volition. I would not have a woman against her will. It goes against all chivalry and code.”
Maya felt relieved to hear this ‘confession,’ and she replied, “I am sorry, but I had to ask. You understand.”
“Yes, of course I do, dear girl. But now I must go. I do hope I have been of some assistance to you in your efforts to bag the ’bad guys.’ Hopefully, our paths will cross again. To misquote one of my favorite movies – we’ll always have Scotland.”
Then the phone went dead.
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James Martin Studio
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Maria Chmielowska (1867 - 1929) Polish
Akt kobiecy 1895
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Archie Dickens (1907 - 2004) British
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