Patrick Tungstein ignored the social graces. He believed in whiskey or some variation of it. His temper grew on this particular night. His cold and hard fist displaced the drunk's jaw with one strike followed by a body blow that collapsed the man to the ground. Nobody insulted Patty without invoking his Irish temper. He leaned toward his Irish roots over the contributions of his Polish father. His paternal genealogy gave him little pause to act with discretion. Years collapsed like dominos as Patty impregnated his fourth wife with three children. They shared a little place on the edge of London. She learned, as his exes knew that he was a drunk. He left for a PI assignment in the states. It was good pay as he was to hunt a suspected hacker who had leaked trade secrets. It put Patty in the employ of an ex-intelligence officer who demanded obedience.
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