The plane roared on across the Heartland of Russia. They had left behindthem the blast furnaces flaming far away to the east around Stalino and,to the west, the silver thread of the Dnieper branching away atDnepropetrovsk. The splash of light around Kharkov had marked thefrontier of the Ukraine, and the smaller blaze of the phosphate town ofKursk had come and gone. Now Grant knew that the solid unbrokenblackness below hid the great central Steppe where the billions of tonsof Russia's grain were whispering and ripening in the darkness. Therewould be no more oases of light until, in another hour, they would havecovered the last three hundred miles to Moscow.
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Elba passed below them and the plane slid into its fifty-mile glidetowards Rome. Half an hour among the jabbering loudspeakers of CiampinoAirport, time to drink two excellent Americanos, and they were on theirway again, flying steadily down towards the toe of Italy, and Bond'smind went back to sifting the minutest details of the rendezvous thatwas drawing closer at three hundred miles an hour. 2ff7e9595c
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