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Summary
“How long did you say you could hold your breath again?” Khoa asked, not that he’d forgotten. The white terry cloth of the thin towel was soft as he picked it up.
“Fifteen minutes,” Bruce said evenly. “It’s not a particularly effective waterboarding countermeasure.”
“You’ll try it anyway.” Khoa folded the towel in half.
“So will you.”
“Maybe.”