He let the smuggler go. There was no point running after him. Abdul had dealt with men like that in Iraq and all across Europe. They had no honor, and they could always find another customer.
His head was still buzzing, but he got to his feet anyway to escape the pile of dog dirt hed nearly landed in.
Everywhere in Calais, there was dog dirt. He used to wonder what was wrong with the French that they couldnt clean up after their dogs. Now he was beyond wondering.
Now he just tried to watch where he stepped.
Excerpted from No Safe Place by Deborah Ellis. Copyright © 2010 by Deborah Ellis. Excerpted by permission of Groundwood Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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