M;|7ê!|1@yK[7zַM#CKKhUܩ}Grq 2[ hkv})rcd{.0>XM+wc \(OtRMu{tSm\vIU٩?=c~ǸVNY/Q_k^,駦{! {> q-oWWxuNZ[Ǐ~rgo#5Z=jqT*[W-METs~Cg7}oAt,dA}KVZ$ӽչ}wrem5tUmT +j\yLS?V> ^(h{nSy̍4Rs7{bǀs54l.6**vhM96r7="U G^YMPf܌Lcb:svڻ= WT{dzw.s99z/G|_U_C=i"Vwc|oNۣCHM]3.C S^{}uMOaۤ}TϠ^G6 ז9ynzz9~{%s ܕxsCu;}#e=EGL6ҽa]O 5+c}\ns9G.@TpTi5-'A /<M^n9y/5ev6+ ־'1oPߠYOwsoܤ$ך}˽Lf-K)YK$Rgݜ~~ k]vdԒ[۟tc(-iD@D@D@D@D@D@D@DM7zMSlUz~[j|f{~$9R?6ã-շKV+EjXީ |ܱ@d]ofӼ"7랫R t|w>rx|ƠkTetSPLP:F-9gǑOQq>yU[j+3wG'$a{Oܱk54U]Yub{w lU=a]CWAKn7Ezw )9u)ivf}, <2AOT#Zie$s> 4=[iZ\i)/!e9;b즊VjZTaRf w5s盪sZq7BdZ*ߥ* s`ϭVw?D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@zttmc}t&i$@xU$Xf{t9Ā " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " "G Ep+}Zi>~~h8D@D@D@D@D@D1"PQD@U!I dfew;c?5SrJ[a@DhuCZzi \O&Y@d.8Ok<~SGK;e@5g<~[˲GmM|5 EAEPD?X{]}SZrwX.sQwlkSZѹE;jQjQ##v ykMf gd}zFjM'PfL|,cUi{ -і]/E2v'-]qh ;5/XnUUHiydSsr=\Ii.+})~٫l4UUQ^mS{"vr~2UcInzFZ4nPu)-^7.˕޳qsV+ͫDYtoh3;|sG [uB,mw{{˝zi\R\Z?X¢-\UYZgc?᜾Xixckp-iweۼ#-4>}K!?a}g\mG 9/8$)'3X\6g^1ܴ᝿W[MtUMRײ>7e=3:t0:MhN]-K4 -:#We !T2v{k\/lfSSH~/e%]in➤nYk`9҆ -#Hj/pA4[OU}][x勐ls3=-[8 ^2eWwнc^Ǎk˲7nz\Wi.7 d/c9 }r #JZ8Qf 45Ku5,8+a|rpg,znנfpp sw?&O-\jڂ TQ}ԯVg!JpFRhmzRp,2EtLWϫyހќ{Fh-M٣Dl5L;a3|^)83}=8yieөc!睿 8@_| H όʬY=9n\O w)>J˽/ͽtEMY[q֏484.` g g7Ÿۏi:K~ɜUhT7%}`D@D,:Y3?VJ8eW"Y7(^" " "oI D#K?%:?Sݱ!lK?~{\*ߤ{T@ZgնAihK|3܀Gk^\8uÅz~JjZ[U 3 i)vTq*si#ih?=yGocUPq;;3je?PI?~_J:2hշࣥ{aoHLtO~:-L  s ZGp+ܘ=Bxh~߮e؀҈쏢W-AC&sP9A_Gz3_Ȁ?2ve]^;&o9 xY5 ~$Ұ95[.$@~^!R#$Ixf*}1L-iȚ};qǾWs@~P,.IE%+!UoZ3BFv_êEhpӜJZ\OO>,@~a >eOZX9p8!5QeFl{F_15w %Ǧdt)%UwlE$ I9.8m@+OOƺuwnwOG 9甝9'?~ G.Ɲ{-ΥBHV%D@DF^z::2:rQ.wR:%R1iUޥSR{D@D@Duѫ]_Uc՟˃l}dWw/ÞHQ@zpY~4\4VSS>iYFb>#S[CYnowrC+ ^y HI=tg8H˵sf42M` 掂i,VYtl2 \IQ.27Me򦚎 D8 t?Ǧp=u.\Ym+'oQLXtd 5Ff<Hq<1.3\r]O-!TXDȈEѝ(D@D)|Լ WЭxťN~r!9uWo-#?RQABUȱsKN_dp " "-Nej^gwֵv)-"j{2V^*&O1 PmOrVMMUM+fX^XȂh/q;QSDXFw) imNs]XNn xS* MO5+X+7-Z|$qsrIP|SXZ朂<:Rm.շʡd5/ nO9ӗ{R۪#lP 2.Rch[=5(oZ|F?z_j;7?W]g.o^W8d5*JN(jx) Wʆ?UnC׺ַ^kb]RT#aaNt;|W=inZPwu׸uUfvsg`=]J+czdD@D]PR5S4ִۭrd2E 57j;s,}~W#sH<%[m9EKKs <,f)JBH{RxE " " " " " "#ѺRQoL\{z L.|2{Z]겆孷699aF0ɑ[穌MY6l#Tkʌ2DS3jXS:A<26GJj?KѩuO+#G%5G.w9뭨+xnVyQJ&@D@D]ۻ.mcȏ 'g[$[v++1K$UeiӍH.+$h،b7zΏj&Xmg+l!\7" " " " " "- 6ܒv+IEeJrfsbr[t0=2v/4Z6;RǑށg;GӯrF+7Bq'Qii>dc0aĒ؜l>$ hڪ7ֻ@EcK~\Ys*}X: " "DָyL,YEH 99vUgc{~ߡ"fݗx}f?2QgKn1W HF<וz|"lm.(;e)(hQy"T7wUцN{ }kj9bΖ6Z|cy#0stw65NcQI)B " " " "l0g^Ęi[37|:\væzVPiYZav/';3;55QVpGwnycemR]-kzu"_D@D@D@d? )PYX_|=Ֆ[VԥǑܼǤXg8Ȋ`q; <^;_*zݡQٙZg{RPҧRoUhL4o_\I*Y)"kj4'n?K! yF{ٴh*ʄ$ZQZ?rV1jK(*ӕ)#PD@D@D@D@zkKlXg cz;8q"졕]!Km~ҶÞ wϗ>uVQ5*f:h>?zRwu.בѦjau֕3ˏMղIaJJ+"" " " .g叅p'm Γ9@C&f9Z z{cRTfG#3o 횞㖣~aʤTQS%^\㴶>}{X{D0|tT6ܙZ1Z1 lY+2wsy=[+TTXd N6?PS7$/7j4̝YqǸFnLǞRT-sOڐqpoO@D@D@D@t0dUleK_,gl[]yDʊI@2RkLO.?/ާ%o;XO.*K'WQ\QXǮ5re:dtۖ#,}iU])# Dq?6lZT%YR>.A5ިK]S-'9URF8v" " " "Q>iC#%d 8ִ9Jyc~Z+aFSs68uvw:GAS{kr˵*(;IpF;+" " " " Uڲ{3#IՎn⥶:چ_y=E}\C w>W\P4fVl{4Y|{3Znjom\zVXع$}C>055ǯUS֙.ıw#QUcw+nÖoA^ is8ǟ;bR뢬sܜEq92U/y$ dtV^ÜomN ~Rth[zZ5Y1iUFr&H]1 k_ZԨڈL5i7'Y^ZƄTqXD@D@DR$2J5U'O,=vf57V+[G%Min["3ש+V+w:y|yN Q}Jl6@D@D@D@R6K}tΊfH %%c(,3cظ= DcTi~tySZ4cO*frqy_LіURފNqភoVZ;_,Q5V\]w}ꮝCpFx5 ,8;mȷ5>zE9'QȾX-zgR9z؏}jsr߉\Ө; r+IClۑznƶR\Q.YOpP4w̌ZI^IaM%G1MAKɨfZw-g-=5M$z+Zʤ|O͙;KT2`{yZ朇*EU6w'FV76oU؉{ *QDD@D@D#oYvҕwjΘl grFSsd[݅=v~7 ]l2wݼ:n95%s g֒Օ>.%+" " " "  EQziK_h5g:wY)ӧ/rJk.Ä+ɛƚ=WoԶ'%Jlm>ACËu)[ b\"ya` ~ JQrȰ9{:2p~_]p^U;I8_F'#%qSUÍIku5#ccijIa>'M(eʋ8.奾ɨ`gs1sފjv[+ |\ͳQu5j-,3W!DnOCy-!SK?b%Xlu ?Ttҝ' 10۶ǒbbZYpNtTF2|rΦ˹^T{j_5wWnԂ" " " /q:kUME |,eWIkӶimye3\LdZoL,,IWsSw5\ W_t!5w P/aN*(#0 " " " " /6Wg9@ۯۚjk6Yu\B⛋Zo-!uIN]aj!_VP@ 92:3~ JAT6r1{|V.eNK>iRzeT9fwE49j7叒`8+#QLdD@D@h`/t}ڬR6,3HH ]n]eBr Ru@QՔk?YHյ L; :lu"1P>"" " " " " .)jOR6p~aJj$Ly1TNDjԫdgow l٩2 {GNSk%č0"66Y.n͝^ڗgWWS9l;vd> Ojt$K4R gC=WJkSq:$2ZYU,~yFf+we(Z$̍ǧⱔBhpxsh;~;-9FˇԸv}{+q;?u TSSsB R_y5,w?rډsx+6IRx{}ñ <ZB" ]V#|+instCLG{RFN`W^TU_ܪQ>}mAoh@9`Gjk_y+aaCrω ` " " " " "H(2;.ď0]ºW[+A#H-|RGW'RgtSU],Q"̜#|+J}n7AWSQzI%쁬.쵪PpB)w,C^? CkʎQp$6Gl/2F(y6d:N__/dpd9zm~xdc~ ї5#'B*rݨYNݬR}JAQ L;}lop9Ql\2kKSm*sl"Ƣ)nufe%{|Up !zbzdsZ@>Gdt+uj]sSE"v/Ie66¢ܮ3ճbY&OHu+a=7w\.fϗr7W^yyr\dsCZV+T"PdfD@D@D@D@D@D@}@~=8RCMrН2`"E[tY 3SF3;eHx%Tȟ%#=mWOPsNiScfGv+ W]xdžW: ![͌]ۧ]nvs$ov*cy"IŕI:yꈫ99$uXf<.о1Q#Xߏ^EuoeE#gg!= PzY(" |m!שԭ\RSEn̏T;ɣSn*x\J]SＹ:̊[d4TF?pV&Vs8h;7c;2Á`" " " " " >QJS9iǚ&8ssth$@D+X~K%hK͢G08%~K\縲\l[jVKpnKS;w`k "&:.t0d/wsrDwFހUU7*̟__>ϲ5 (z~$vz;$v =%Dl癣l7hz?vVUU-ªx2dc}EU7!~lj]E/`n-lN2 Xe0hUW)+(/9fn9KaY>7r9r >yqeZHzƻ $ygRYGϪS)8A_nxYgj+,z7F!SR$m#^9c=O憵s㦦g'm>^Y;Tu}hqj;-uׁwwWOFo?SMRB " " " " "znlu< {H֐xe"i&s#%On_*G12JW^lu£Yi30nGVRVïmsC5KIIrmHܑ_Ի*j]Y(/߰*sZYi o1F71k^ dTcQ>iq:#EaUٹ4ޑABhTh*v~ƆI Tje;A{2<Z^~M53u? .϶vehN" " " " " d,&2]ꭐԖ+@trIYMi*.U:A&AR=v^9\KݏcNN ]bk?X ]CBuGO(cBN]!(!25G;N.j7p1ߦ^g?=|{}agMOЩkBt#㮹\$-7_zqsǯ^"̖ ֫WAN$}TdG+NN/pNʊa+> joք床70Y7jJcT~F6|f^U״|JRR1ʋ˗^UMVPDtMLv@k+T\x|:=7 vFYy2\Oձ5 m.P5ZJ MUQ:Y}:X]#JJK\ UeVQ\ fe>(aexGnuL-h{NZJ"o" " " " "Mo3s^a@iw-N9GȜ_!M"O2:;mMCq`> }m+(* lY+ \>9I7 AiK%MW]G[&# 8܌g?#dP•еPc8$sTZRؿI[[ө5B+c.zsa$H`RN*3NhT'ǁFA*ntЖd泥-.ږgnMGT# #etNO-h鷦|=ev^ԣBG*f#wQV%{7-A<5ݶRWv/ߧVPp9 zg_5kMSXG-h:1׈_##o4kGLK,|# <}#\zƙ0Su%I|0>GP1u4oZg#%oکtFuM-uֹ"nvk?lHG(m+j=# c=\D$_,uҿpVn zEFJJJ34zw8Pw3]o ˚^z oFu65atԴ {A?ʙ5wof c<d(ZTZc׳ގKnʌ(5ϵa[U0M(1'; N\8St O?mI8rrEmt|G=9U]RVFF~)/@"'|VeD@D@D@D@D@V8ԎAS#qPꫭtq:Ip cFK hhM+s*5ZF|.xnZIGc^ҬK1OUqRA}sFHuD2W2h6>TД\7>Ǵn->JWRosh颃مt7D%; B[`]ua.Pѷ&rgK}*B]V͘}Ɣ8ni}i;]<*pv!H/f*w6!4!d%iq.t %J3wl,:fjh?ڡo@T%:uYRDetZ;ʇc8%KVYiZhSu%@\s*+9s Jz#{Z>?A!̝צܬ.VȘ@vcZ\gO ٮ͹cS東Һ+-=mY[EEo.:XDQu{z)JR;d[ރ얲ddrIt {ˢ8||2Dzv5_Z骡e9s\V]g^㎫­IФ\;۲w :Hxq68=C>WxwT$wܥ;g^o8]u֧pΞQvuEYD3U$o1?+8m5a=l޵NJM&r06`rվI .$zhn|D@D@D@D@D@D$%FK:LKWj`Yy3c>yкUoά'4u-#J!%6cr8+G0kULIgq~sٔ_a^lN١siZ_ ߻q8^IASӷ߷)tUF֦:cw+%t4Wy$Hf0T=SH_ERBG+V2Qz~N^ﰭcTItiQ \] Y [ݮMLfa=:BVj+{._BmŹsQ_(g;N:R;g)CD)#93^1Qm.s+Zp܎ *tbc0~+ED4wd$t}PF5_&qFյ%{{ݻ|:YujЗҔ`1˟%MVI :)0p-iXѡw-3RŃ_l:i֒qПYf?Xɖ8d;UW_;@\l @WPIUzpH扎}y)$x;̯53;iqu\HLq@ϗN֫4>wJ}jܴLFEOHo3d=\<St~𑃜g*DVGV[l#h8(d3 aǨ+oKrE,g`*.(E3s\C˃䨩d!@D@D@D@D@D%#{'Ji;͎~K9~NEcpJZHo.m=u4P$p6##ׯv=Fjk\27uvʜ>JZ' f\cqhv)K_<QG󏑄 VZj$nz\=AcAokglR:.W07TT)O[A_QUUIXxa!>DT\ ՀN1(ӛ#wu;ʽ82~+  .dc5%GBp$u%("ڍ b SFޭpr7@lFԳԂֹ1k4*o\˅Zxi;Ȼy~{_{-}IbVR1uK';&`csv*MZ*5hU\'K G9#HVtn:I߬~G> Vxk )}I6G[lls{'Wsl=uo |ݬ@zeս.>:u \|K#:m*cK+&4SK?tmN;m6SLjqRCSf Zry$vcZ0Y<|HJXydlkg i4]KQv1JH7R:М(k4"\I9HpL^$'ƎC,ToZڨn M(tpqU۫mRW> Yկ*  " " " " l2Lp}j ǹ~ {1 N#p%zOUHZ^GV:7 z'So*soMlphsn $qsO#6hԝkdGGւ2V:{XμRsi%>Y<[6|biڪ[T F ^sE 򹵕Ƙ/EMOj9'-1Xj sfhz\tKE%kb卭g!p6vjK2ƾr-c09In|DzudlXB#ጒII:)T없?s۳Ij>&)~ 7.ͯﾠ O]I,h^!铠gsTseaG {*zuBס:iݧTp05o-[>&{'sRujϋ#aac[JCdF0;㣁6:pw=2{<u?:Y)'sIk. |#>ZC~.& HYyCI;=~;,h^sf״du-ǁZP/S_\{cս3@^p'}muEF~%#Q:NOפi, " " " " gLYejxa%'Ҹ |BkQC~iOg<.u ;56v;;967[ۆpPE򦒞zBck%g^lMSQe뱊8qD_N=?bNLs097%=c9[%MmtjZ{F|^ Kp d89=>y=173ݪ˯azr\}|L"[iT<78'ZstRs:V8n!#=V}rg\EP ūV f\-} 1n1<}a>{>]"rU(-khkx|ԗ璩ܱFܗ:]ert؜OӺ]SlH_י11yobpx$~Ǝxׯ͵_dJsӠPse9> o9UpR=A- N+Hy#cQ/-7{={]ux_OS `vܻ8sY==]ix8iO"iYqr׷g koWi'Vu/ 5T@WAtqo.iJ{RDg\pu"ꊪZZ]+dy^&SbQM `owW)-ǣzָKwZיe۫oAWbg*5@#c]SnK]]PdcgӧM֦<~>gR׎d5OT׿K]>?몂Ԝ Bx7H :H"N]w/2CCJuG=u m ' y*fR{,ۘ9 $qoպb90ស5Kw/˞Y3/hzZu<cwdz,Un6h;5{+fApo%u`wzb߷ߓtJ9 Al?iȓpHۯy c}Бd1#|'n潦գg8#t0QԷ.>_uJ_4k[e]ʴ3*\ȴ " " " " {䎧gy7#ɜ>*^˦/4ze/;as -;2ClVgٻ*zRyuo@O#8iguARj|/}av0difv oo,Zj[3#3sd9zÏsʔ^}yy䉠NK5X):sӯ08+[^ua'l>()CM hBhӓ׻C2Uq c з n6DW(d59/nF>,)S~]} ΂eK.TาCP+#,#qeVImRvz:ꑩ"qu'_zё:tdOgVAA~񁞛.oY+Y\upBVHG)S]M2kŇ7+KZ sзpVuN_Y5\@  _ZTDͼDv6wnxq$czܭ{lhVi$ӌ^ OsH1Ĵ?9f=}ɘ53ꮔwf=5&,7V}0un?B\zy~Fyii{iv6WE |#Mp.KR*YCtxݙԂF~#NKg<'sdܼ:JJ;UwTD9nŮ\s׮qm^Ʀ:4 ==ܝKǖOϩ{iov>~7ՇOf&}HP TFpqp|ʵYT >/ڥ_몀ml5Hyh9A7mNوi 9꥛qTF́GՌ5p?Қ`C )c˰sw[--E}q{< O3Y 8qekeXh{=m6J~`uaMFK J9E='˗ jhMK eT;Z:w-M]4āϖ'mtt֩[]u nF9s:D,B " " " "Bt^"̚p$y,>։ۨoG&#|ӳi;qiXe@^~{8i>3]O,n$d :Nhvo+*ykOޟjԦ}y(TÇC. 2W-+8}[<^jUK8v3X\Utr79~>8Ez42i2򖵰%v?e CbdTW@3gmjRWm+=O:J]'lAQNx$k\p>c }H{ io6[EUK~hc<=-cVչ<1ZW+j!h#nz5O\wjݗakY@D@D@D@ } (&ACǠY,zJqҞH`E+ uoYɶ]J<=|GTzQ(mzO$p7ۇqDuv.E|3'OT2wrw#LHo%\c/p_N޵ ֙}e'xj%{V}RpXmCj1==MTJejc-n"nЍ(ף.g6R(|81O$;h7,yei-?tmt֬QRYܻq˲{+z_3ٵ^I35vcOD/B==\)[uQOq(]Nn`v~ *t{\<:rlIFCjK sFHWn'EKbsei,$DlE>E3;CKOA՝{5mʽ /854ˬ om1K˺ҜǩӳGh.|!/{I#mXبR-ʹrr>asB<ۿqm%C̴o9XTW0'QkDR7/MntJbC@=|զ J6Bfc@FG]Y4ڎUQ:Oa[vՐGS`{k$xc;x\wNeEGAV"5n|qc3OsJzx>طFѧ/hsrsӠ+éhv?VEvչ78xr8@^134dw}}%C{x0=4Iadx91Ʊf}պL+/<9I>*qS#lrӼǍ60W綟YQ,iFuHӯ_hI.,HO-l6L"krt_<+DZ?=ʵG%ѧjꦋ_-p \6^⧶ z0ጒԪ:k \3JD!c$=r~?5+mskZ\ g-~N V0rρ{-NWTE8??hDq8D\'yע M9> *:j3OWl7xᦖPCxrǎ9y_%3iaOtnAR=-el2DOcǐT>珇"l*: &:7h;-r[}%|zvK\}<饉't9NMTjBg$sq-q=5ގqI:9[~д녢x.μh sJLM |b^l @ -z]S믹Z+)5qQi`k<L2doNBۚHh.)k*mOcI %mDcx;'1WujX+ Af3UGPX覅N$'0LoUtKMDZsr`08҂Uy\m-aw/9muQ6fÖ},u༯Ywu}|OiԖ+EUerb9̡_wDLd1q.vX\W_fxdE.c[q解$.2FGZS}ťu#> CR ],ku9F8>D~)8,>6=kUi<#n.\h?k=3S]n̶j0pld#ЖClCvpN>]wܫ\ʮU@pw_n-此/dRq#?1:wNWK0nf,ݵM>amWF LWJmm|38≪{ou9ʖwF!ߵ,%L8<pHk㷻PuJV;Ǯ~c>¦Z[8\wS鴵ٲ;39 Kv>KWke:R\r^iIīvw}~hH?Ih+hJH|n|{єF?Փ~Q &]%=0mcߧK% #muבX*Ɓ0Nz46< o#I V]UHjhS\@/8ΆO?ک#=/@3/jk8J_׼Ư4QSTN׿ࡪ+ii,h݀"ՠgk2 ҾtMs{1ăӧCqKQCv[h!1g!m{ZY\:3SvK |u9-yi+. " " " 6O~'׻&G灾G\|vdz֭N\ -GyXn=hgQCɒH2dfGƐ 쮬W)nqA"`<cVw`[AJyki֭Bj=.D*I;=2:eK4ljfC@H#s)FO]kNׯ˅.ԗ m}/=f7W251nۇ\Lk*tu54hdr#-?Ʋto_#ڐ||^$-B˳E(voQn-Lتeh ϟMqگ?J띛:ά_qczC!;;'P:ln{ f:mIʜ2ein%]Y 9_קO?jc$6ֈYCj5_'6u QfKÛIql>5@$c-'nܿJt]*we`=~5*+6}Bo؃iM˝9PUR܍3\rE)Wc=1U^UOo5w >^s%W׵ב;%}}}[A;;5Fe'%˟]q1u4dl< `,&^vnπIU7NwٮԓEQ;p8䱍Lͣs^y>Z 8u.vqϊ Uc_C:R_ Xؤö; P*EBn+ѮЈ " " "rϦ/FʪZ6I}U3bWYpQqAg Qe9#1Rsd`1k2<&Pz 8e{yX\]2~/:[e.KlHzIƪo˯/Jșѥ/ahqnN| '*ʚzu9ƻS[$*Vҝ('kSeik7f"iMwuL7V9xZvǩ`f܄+kjqU-'AE]x"qZN6~c|ٮ2IsErqKmH\|0>JTuǮ\gw_bֵhanAB^xf?pٍM71>& =M$|q%$}U*l.vU^>TTKN|TՒū5,V ]ƟvWeVFu)viazϴDqT]j8v=$x@utg[CMSB#1<qstbQ̵'9>>TUwS N0=mЀ|~ݞhթԐ:k6y~!J:p_o_Wz.PׇiǶҶv=oOY `>KhƜ%eM%8o[x]hdC-Ŋ'=$_no|c8a䬩Vuu$,123b._2QOzi_Y]#b?\ -h #1EUG@pӊ܅#$.3:o~Ww;̓IkǧN|O$SYvi=Ng+AkD֖cޟT:Ӵr :FN"Rֺ6P͖c4be>,iqՍ]ߙA%Ȗ}o+!cy3!,|tIZ`Ӹi=8x(ŵ>^JGS4 htN1[ Jj:ٮTVTzi(7m 1yY ZYz-:7vk$ uG18K~R48[,Xiyy>kRSmw~Ri\ O]At; ӯbGDyREQ ;YYCL-ϖHWDA٠O̠#iw U2*VW:.hݞF ?~:}-u?!qUZQԱrXr +a=^|aWTm}F:q:}n4$}266w r2^Hㅬ?XoU}E8I9r߼7c:zb21t@nt[5+5/ճ rH)i' 8-}{ @&|L"H^\ǒ3 ˺%sBLwL;zqw8cd8!$`.fҌsh辒H;#6TIԲ~z:+dqy꣇i_m6Rwo?Z Gbb[.$}vmO$Zha\MAq{Y H5% " " " nqsOҿjkEs.;Y|o:Vm%ʩ|e7Y$g ʜ\EC]BH1qϒ4U=xpe0HC\dz8 Cy)XeVJ1-<1IXp l34y>eDQoҧtKë :I gpK$<`n"T5QOs˄uF 'ym/ξ޺#mNv=u+yu0GX羅'E>Sw:KOQÝK4.ď`;7qTE_ǯR njW=X9nԥ5ʘNJ8ʒRh:2{C>x[Gc Ҋژ1=WYGSw /X1lGǷHFYS}e@!grQ4=/./#;RJws=jZ9 \{vw6Et&r{>&8)YG!sRS*s\~;lQZ# i^Kp걷ap=q䰚eWZXݨjbx۷˯OTi]O#;LφW5ޅ]uZ]*"l;,+Qwr>]& etq0kK/TRw̏|gguJt&Zu???-}֟3*{QXkO˺;\-HU" " " ➖Z88Pcݟ,7Gjkw--MP{{ 6q#S qmAut19r{?>y>km-ڑ㎺u%B3oiZ;G]WrFOs5Q.o#Y6k/)'{_%r)' 8wjc{r~f0B9wa0~ӹ˒x?cI*ɈE ZL8vXfQ-w #`r?.Sr#Q 0il2Snn`3h>8pjZ=AO Sc`qwԲ2YC mJ )-w7mTC}VҸ{ 7iPkxȉ!퍅Dzӯ]msCD;/3!|]O_[CI{dYc]vcש^RONuGv|W]= :ұ_?Ż;9ۜsnuppP㌔~ lfI'||sj9z}ڔI察S#oh'W 56 ~ V@_ۣ1 <e~k8/>%dl96U\Փ{5z?e+&CYm|N]2/4Ab2Qdk(R1,;{-ձys+!ܪI,nYtRymwRUFr_<(3i_-\oBC-4Li`7^ ++梩Ѳ&=Ā3玃crY'4rCG3vW^lRZr=[QAFiF,qrH%Y(m<#C썙w+G6|~{SR?Xy亹l ':oŒ5ARJvHs34ht]ms7ǮTJNpsOE9x=.`7Q֊A?{?7/.2H +$ 3tc3*AjmG,~wj'<+Ku4XSWNK?&C."JfYy*4=M#2w#E" " "_k7_kt2y~`PΜ9)x2ɬ/.穵PTg,o3-->t9S7˻~Vηdu}۱6z>lr~"am?x=?Pt^؅]A!c z`+|hlҭ'm%{pQ7C]MUﻷa1i(*9\v>{Zj^"W_=4D݀>נ G@MU{I l7#j-W{LP[é!K>Eu7VK-R]hYGTᒖSs C vx@dj3l~NU3QQFȊig/Rƅ|ܟFlT CFer;u]{j7h_A+H#=﷑~2-s-*g=uڬ֖+P٬ic|Ǻйdt'm^;jZ8m_n90Xt鍲:4|^4^\YҜ՜Bi{dK63{z`}Ju_t01 SXըQHJN+).4AkCpc/Ri%seю󐵨9)%Zv9"1ߛ~vm830TxN\JCYwŢ=#c=A$J<$FFsqG@|rK4U%$yp; ғ:ӧ|8c8'l P=Q5ʃB@]rHkb ?5h߀T̰reU;;Yt&sYl& ۏ`+]yc)6[ii[3~>BOY-W;zg'˪dDckLK<4uMyzJg=wz5lGW%ո=qCjmmō=D1nCfT[u<Qҹ,Il.>EOXX%"*שX}'!\$>U_nZQNp'w!aU66YNqmm}&I(w>p ZTKK_3as$a~Cq|s%W`qruI]Cls!w_,k:G\:zZiU#["D@D@D@VXviЬ۩"9x?e۟ 5z /6^өaStn%LǴtWhn#vL6vs>En;*ԮaZ7E.M-DGWQZp/LtvOVlR2]O#wVG{F"GX)sAki$go6?%̺^Է*b6Y2| `F\IpjBztI!p ^nO," oupGA Ռ',7 VfC-3-p_ަo쬥MI<2]*{} EFҔ2&aGCvߦa:ɣRms_G9\l1f%{y̮7#i|y|*UOECa+\wF ;en ˤc5*I]5q3n|n[i֦O>+vΡy 佼sۺw K5u D+I =GZws8H3[ܓg_-5\O_塞f<`Wss߭Ҝ3 "KB{nvF^j lg@{}eLhgMPs+S@B\2RxiT4M/[]Y'$pܭv=x5fQQGT봅PFyp֓0e!U»4&6F敽wicwNVy0{[秌Njcq@35 |YN]}3-iRtZ*Põ}m5U5Ϟ'r4;d;oLg #-[`hg? w7{rgo#}rZf3K2"G4 'KZIK+ HD_/'GCx|p>/mb=emZFw%ҲzW$ } 䎁E.ӂ,`n" " " “Xy;VdXүZ{^#oAV(њQ[k톳dm8m^f^%uxCFAqJ:{/ 0 H\Us "'~FFtliÖl}%US #80c:#fG=ߤk :'w7sF@Vq~]`WhƥGJq}|Mb+mP6hO'$΍>}@ڏZϦO;. $p''=:u{%ږ݋\>dW-siX\4׾ֹ_]>1znqtT›G^-`֢ɪR2'1k>bv>j7sj5~t߇YƚJZo +N[US'Ul꺠Ӻ3?i,-Itg.6w{䜒mr"Q矱416_W'PS,?yY|n)\wGJ9y5&X38Cc6( |t #5vMxbf6@{"R̪1ZW*R4/2M[$vx;=5aln1Ӂ6$w$?rolaON?U|O۬@&9N2O~RӱItqpNoaP~q͝qlxkps2G(E\ -(Y#J191cY\@qi8Vy˹^rz"ƢtR~8.Ɇ$n%pvA%-ca8+:OhHcT]3hZSUP]F;ll=;Hc>Pڨ8;[k]Y%-z^֞aʯE-IgFڝKg{VSG.CóY4:r vA$Mw8\k!z,ɦj$>+'2Z$Js6.gNy C*o~ggy) ᥩ&><>ggeh?`q6U4U2`1sn|X~v1q)-gCI 5dT~[#n\ ?Ymvé %m4;}n)OoomJ̸27h(#hȨH͂9Fz|N:ydE檼2;6۞LXYcLPֶp~ Ӻ4-{Xy|l{.3UG,oȏ> ame-qx񬹾ngX곢9B:\J.Fd m/4%L<߫~Vv|IX)-+=䨗R0t{a}\š5eFeHƺ,s7>,L~K38pw!,+v]uUhyƇ[O% Wᮒn]`eJ6?%#peHJ2kЧk p#P}'TǒoV?09c 㒷 K&J^|< %Spm;ZH 㐨+ #M,owxpy-x9i"ۆv暒fUQ$7#ceŽϺrgt #D}1+'ՙ22Ih}>+`h֩kQ_ffic26ss9RaAS=1+n/VïNfSFn{ʩ2$/jh\+y27 mۺ%[~e q<9ڙ\ :h)XNmCR1xUW\2{%$ldrwv=Z:Z8S=AIJr~edj3+F4 ~쵄gגegt?6ex о ~[crFX|8|?Y);9y`$c|~xkeഇ e{;5u:YprÝu2e=$|Oge%8KY 22QG\([wF]%'8M=- h4v൲IhEy&"TLq~ }Ri(qA0K9=Bp&priST5$l9:du_ٖ㏠E" " " " &4Ω`;tf[S^M_-IuLà!Y_rO<0 Uc.-\i⡣x%oz9nFv6> y[ӥO~ZEAAb<<>D%6VJ1 TVq "s|>M '/$(|`k&k~yHgIrQՒ;\bjw^oulw `gw.{d1}?TD>fgY9Ai)ǭzw^kׁi/W[{MqIV̛ r VrSSsv_#a.8Is\{T:$U^qBl9AWzgIګ[iA3(h;tgJכȗ*rK/Ꮎ.%Ŧ#ch C R;QE݊@X|B%`dk-xNpc]Oq#h{ ?M1IK.$8gন-gzmȼ<%i]KOIwLә‰KOEB^dk;[v_MK/=ma #c<+]I(,enk(.gEEgeTջgO}U 9R[>gKÚK`QZǴIB</;%pB9݋w>khEcS_peF2ڎG7UF֏"9B8t8;B)5Nfe"@K+!|һתZ{3ϽNBRXE]MǼ`08Iݼ=tXe-qG5v_De;;!Mn; pF9}u,U-xvCvi52-Og0;*s{ox?N*.ni"|ܦ֢^ h]ux:FKX|9ʌUeD@D@D@D@ U}ϙ;5kij9\j9iaG4g3UƤJ*6d]vs2vcM_c{ZV5[qvO#{Mc\muxM#kkc`8`|=\Cush1V՟f 1O_޳H,?q4Nk}%FUMJ3iz`GyQL:^a{-qXMS-+;@y|=yp6H!jhUJ:KcR tΓK\lrrzsytvRim6k/q|l72O7HՍg{'*L/쵖'Mo1;٩Þ[0?/g{jOGIMI{ \{uB'Sq,SUoSnVs :njm]]$TF##m#oRQ/6V-8{x66>K<X$mY~>(Bk+]G'w\~e9s<#>PUNèj)NPXj2y-fel A{]l0DDZg䦅> kqAotR0ݦt tUEM Sf;~g>Q$8Q{9q = g$\Vj;qz5Scyks/ۢ>2}ǀ¸n{m9穐Es0#Ѯ̜h)jjfԱ$0;w?cX>k1q-1Y]lHԹ˔x^7rsM1ܰ*vxGoYd{_Z TZ52Q ]fc[fs>RjkUar둫7C 5E, " " " "Z#OK᫸j'y\W:;w#I'$>,Bf vu6O$sy9kg?lu T~_,`.Jz(Md($[L`yת$hWsM oVLoǯ]{N$6_V uSFqQ '~mE%ʅ4ޝu:Ʈj+4OaΨ"s֑:/:)O額ۜi:Gq>zr拥cV-wH{=Z"hw埖Ui }m7b"ZD<8AB1Q/[SKyשf 5]h {TԷg3;me|)Vٹ5xA1MQ#;aϫwǷyg׳lGg8}ߑR70ۢc[`96ђYU$:'|uоyj"lg!Ѧ4=P/[ Q8#FZ{,,%s<%:Vj%qMO.W&8kZ`CV{]r5cZVߢlo\\d%s\;j7Ǩm| |5ɔ{bce7Ϧ~hYIml 81SaÚtORCdx}UC)3$s`aYS4*#d 7~L>;Hϟ=Yz[-%,Ҿ>HA1qN>^lc)2bt(V5̏c9zZ?4#]M1H1H΃ ʜtj[{po:jίt[Ej *IZIՖ,:+Ka2:EjQɓ <$u&l5Z8培U;rrhD@D@D@D@D^]5=>g } v|0V(=ϟtz\O3uxX5 RR|4uqr=nrl|0'̷'$ @~b%';-!O#bg!=`vZ_\')94c~XʚrֲRPp!M5\Ep!!c;t'+o+7;Sjh]acvr:gITNR[ٖw 8Jp@_-U <c۩C={ӔBI[I$Wylqx}2j;=:ϡ\OlS =Ne>!T<'|GK:ۢ\+ @7^:`v*굪FyOLOBM;gOss2:wbim'pjpH,7aZ2A9n wdan{T٨47 T10e4yH>@2U^2g'6-KƧqpy.PjTp8!-{s2o~UIj cw4ϫw3VIϮsTT·$[eEop 'uO/ս?[ef^Jh"g$T5|mMgclwykrC>+FƵ/nM'IM6HewUe&IdӼ%s$3qu?y=|՝s&r_nYGz碓{h݂7*_PGyޣn|Ж nAOOXS ]=dpvK2Ӱ a-;dkKD2:' H#oAp܅З4ZFM i"pp<ǗKZGQB&JCy[^i-z|D ^&<,+)NG? AM۩)o y[k8 svί{^\ᤎ.͵G{;%|Z @D@D@D@DխSڦjdgwb-Ywd}Uz~K*hI!{!sH pUH$g-+8 `$w{ӻ񞞟SFp{R+qcWG!ml&ZO7!'䯚Ynnҍ `sY 6٣9*Ny_bd$fkZz4U3 -#ݭšI{uHx{XIo+HE,kj K>G9s=|H[9 o/K1'c'*3#?{OTZFVVJlju-W$."ڪvT}=7r@9\u\R\cs#Gs7N]g7Oy}~6S'2sFp6rk*Ifw3vA97_J]hh gIe۸m.^}u9Ukvkzɯnu|8cc3N|^v8ߪu79#QQ@A ܲY9z(X,G^/#ceQ. oF=q_z'IZlS@xi>'Ag Z{ҲMFsUd/L8G6Q 9v?x>W#&:Fy([U>F4b0HkA}Mwu+kg}%r#J*OZцg8 3Y"Xa7R 언!}\qbb<{g$Ǘ<|ŋVKpBg9)g2vcw0fKO+(ښ'jFKw#GB뺊XjG7&wc9x3ED@D@D@D@DlX핚~J_k~ plJxʖi{aX3_Ud5|r'cߊ5ymTfNXN5vpW7=D_7>kkhJ:W((WmT. G[nhv]2J6>Ϫp,|Z\ 甂GFr/;m}T'vYa,0㙬W4سg,eTSi׍Up41yzG,`$|~}wZn]?M&۵J1GP7|J|(]ǰ.Jy)w}--;yӷ61u 솉tP>IX-t0p3oLhM6y/nK{=s3YM;aypk=ѓҬNh8ZTC"#VYjӉNg6y]- uBq3j*XOu }CHѫNDnq<~K(ip`Y +p Ϣǧlt<a?ZVN1ÚAZ?V5QKM-:}\[ V^yz% }8*eq@PWKDOF<O z6 GJ־@{mZX>79_/ܓVx*NV4yŹuѻϩ5zm:")cnJO$G #1'}M6" " " " "4FZư,?M`@cM;yI\3P '%|@lȻelc"XoCF}O;}= sY9;xw…얶,?x-ܠs;gKyg67kGUIWS[x`q -a }MYU8zo8ʝzjYrB%7|m9Zi:E<,G;o޷Vhi{sFGW5B OMR9O%}єr6V:MsQ=SMGR5$uf?~GrctX5OPMK7-X_O\sG{I<jCc$ǯI3qfԩ2ahTR+fwqu?DP9u-׳1ޜVJG3v*=A&JM$cuҼ N |n21)i;͒'ۢ5uc} 1^>={Zg7ّ`I 8KY4[6Bsm'G|rQlԗOµ3| pY5c ;kf?vYysb`Sg,X0Cƹ1E_YG6hY!7!ĂѶ pehI15~2]mZU8Ew5⭣w**wJ5#8f<|f]x#fn9E̓1Z׿Fx#q<9z-K ˙Αm~+j]{ |:6eN|畮P~ږDԤg+EZKz 5B" " " " " ] |@^PPOqGIJek2I'g^ 6;SbGz몋^g\NƧ%*8_11E\ǒqߢ]Kғr@ tR=}OOhHnS1T!>Yp9ܒխPIp~ Q_cX@; w®,Ncc?+%NeEqqsxnDC3l㙾E7yvOڔNqrK<Ϣ8CNvVxKR\ރ`s6[H'/&c%e+e㢑[MV~G4~E%$88>{CxCAk懗ڞNqiEzfncHeŌ3oEkOe%%߻{IFyV~R;h5luqh7?Ƭ5stu,❟[rwYЇzu—CJ+]Zn#.?Ň;,%SDcF8⧻Y/[n|XF3E"yf<]a{;y] 5;ʑR4wM:6,~)w4H=k{č".IQ9;}bu3ȷE >?~>'=KQ:cwz-S4έlXsY,0+*mHMv]*)! K9p\϶jZC0v?%o׸kMҩ(qפaa@D@D@D@D@D6'3[dsܶ1uԟ ~FZ6vQ;>g,Ѯ{5[eU?@{ {h߻JvOy\岰e3t;itx(Qi5E)ˡcTo㺧&??%bġɬkH:Z^Zj&3#WsM/6 u* YZYKU3kvM#IG+eYnĉcC䌆8A}Uv]GSв$5 %@WV:aGIe6M(.ec7iSt5e40=RurCs^|:oL3TܡtdHZy tׯC-x)%|s%X㲣*Lki!a2uE·s}H? z[&ӽG6=K_]|eC$[.hqpy^q>A{nkt;J;F&pHNg(13"9Z<[d8yV w+G@l>`YwE;Jrq9egH׻.'?XFZf jWs5O!%'sP~5TuUU7Ze5`˜c?=#NwR=0*ީ c=/Ԉ " " " " "DdhvtO7qBx0;D}: X˻%̎QE!spw''%aQW̲4c UޜאAŦ-$(ڙ-am5;NS)]>_dKW/$mnI-JX䜷Y OݻLG-=8LxYʭ7Qv6{⦿ev1`bI'$䔄wQzG, i'|UL_&DlGLݧ]r_V,o61fy=:%ݙ=KtQFA<$_x$-ao+ƒQku;N,zVZ(ݗ1`?Hݧt}277.n|'5xLwа$aYqCqbYeڃD OMet&Y[;-ӲKG$O=0_MY9˨G]S=.o֏/OJ.0Yh8E7,]wO =] kn4mx0!/pWX>{v9lnۏ!ؓNTKǮgqUvnדf%J Zȥk< :}?T]lEvkfL.?Vv6L sy2KmCXbuXɑ/Ȩ5l[i,HWqF0,RR#m\҉j_P$4썺mMR?yyX/.Ea(* Sh^(:m7Īzw5-\xa6 ԗ H((e8> TЎTW#Tp2 " " " " "^b[z|Uqx. NEW9N諮ah}ݵЕ;kyQN2a1X`TA3 0kNdeUZ=/Zj<4U{8ƺ1\I+ndOaw+c`;ަ_tM:ZʑH~SNx4GeRu b[tk 0wkZge!ITK;=zI425ju]vꢢ:jc,^Č0 C!;la$;<֤C,w/(>}1/V?r_> (xJ[{twMBȌgnO].GMJ֗MDKF Ǟ:q9qF8+惡6Ҟxf'nTr991$d䧞8IGvXg_QٲH)nN? 68URHKx?d[QOXl)sQ5d|wΎfQJp5gԂ{9}7uM*Y{$NVa{F7鞽:/a IM5DUJ=>6da=?,*7it+c{ BI< ׇCA>:[T޴EؠMx'͐?Af`v EKr}{( c8~ q}\u=Y纁R:d =}u̴qjxX1{7I} tX<~Xt8u%9ʲԒrr;w W<5J5AܫELr27~_Rsn%*q}"Ro47)y@ߕG*MisI0V0(uKU s7od Wڻl%Vg;K>y|qQQj$QLa{ӫvr=0KakNzܹ̈̓&0ӷ]\aG+_|?-.>{w;oġ3\7 XMxci9-9-# FWE|W!YIltRg.D//nq..BdRVg>1z#Ӫ;^aJ;iFv؝u qԏ#kC{@ =ֺ,%_ us')p\:|mvTK'U%\YQjox*"Y7FO+}̋KꛔZ\# X[7)2IoK˟Vdcၠ0ǩ "fwqYІDmrӓ g tkR$w`;sĻ|E$ms^֍#p>ܱoy*{Cz"{Az'Y?3>9? UiUu%{*^ -Eʟ=H圑_jJ-Eo5KLp:syI z)sБcKy%q1Xuhcsz <ƘzշKu5?%;-;ֻ1o, 'vkyu9- =ڦ#"8[Te"CGYYu9sߏ; ,~(\5&;#Hόq~J-&k'} u y{9?rN {4ƮuÊPت5niu<}[z_x䑣l?4Sn:U#4=Y=UP:w5?7@O8klZE:HKZv<>5GNIU(OBŨ?պJ < ǮOZCԕTCL75ԍE,+' ɴjr}WŤ" " " " " x=an5P=h 8mGpf̏y.n?)Ux%[r;gν}`u?F',y/ZK6*ws+g q[&51TQg zH A6Z?WfՕ"޹?oT:dT7i0{t悲I$QKF&#=37ZަzIUROQ/8)% C4m#JsJ9w m-8ьb"&VF{!JYȸǓ `\k;XX)^J^;mܿX;ju;N=jUsAGvοSS*K1 $8ε Ϩk’;=E…5ϵ.:̢P#pov@^W;^bkq}ufEtCUA[m7a`y|Xm%.Њ*"{s0O,eImrjpjjJ뭢&BX\eϬN-!Qbiwss~FQЬwίGXYum]u%AlLQ ?vڎTVWԽ(w$8ߠޱ')=}m==OkϢ܂9)ZѾcϖ;s;Y+a>*zfj`zOse 㧗qbֵmL}dOE5[v{էԖ߬,v-,n@c#s`MaSwПkddszSՍ:JNڔR0ZSeQQ80xD@D@D@D@Dl7ٻN]wwEZ?SijS-k3 r3 bjgKm5&M!ˑOE-OŢ5H8&s_mZbM!G&~AjYknۘQ.G io$Hhm7Aˇs3!li~;)F9Սo39PS]Ʒ0uY-2Ϧ#))Aq2ng<-麍#/7gӸy|3*3sZK~dt|ڗi#îE%ymmT|OM&VZ/tMBY6߹AoBo~?Gljgｅ!g||V9;+#jʙi6&9ձ~9OQw\TH%hN-r^TT[/utnKlU ĸlmak* h`;84䟞?<,p|kQMV1 aK&тz,QsFqeg;'c Zv#{gR.}{pq_\ xg:6$z#\w\LFߣ,nhny<;|t⎍fZݹ#K@;U\[ʄ+ME*$t_;׾=i1Igsr'yI8T\?Ф(ŽxquiXo>I%{NHQw ̕4#58:_][eJ^C};c/756"V ,9l 38,~;V߁]+MY.'O@SnnHqNBs?޺ϳoZGψ皋OLFI \do%!t×_/bVfc &Xp]#Z t]{s`RHl7>jU*ھY>ܓ|C< > j (K;' c~XcdeA$w>,Yb MJyCD-dt8,|J٥'%ֆ\yxxA-DvGSo}Hߕq/!7d}%Bl|KtzhpHg?MLQ QkuSP5Lc Xk6TRjM[Zbj |岼-<v9sq5y3 a :R\cyO7 O%*w:68;I1i#[:ۍˁS\lcc8vrm-qjNKHϚg73z ;q i:}Vv=mS0na0LvzoaTAMkFIQrxE,NQ]אE" " " " "pVq8KčSLێZr~1C(7lVeAM͆>>Yj}ژ֞&J cwduJ'W j r2w~ 9=w#jvŢu HX(pwu32K-\-|;e? ]>.J`ZK7T)Yz4;Mgryq,q5SrZci%Q1E*riKU'oSחg d-E\;%:*etmv"yJZcՂƽWZ= + z>FR-uFK˿kzbnJb}@''u{#k<{?r>~\ ٣q[RU ЃSY nsFq&+'; qccm>ʬC]=-}]tk'hcA%{zd-WÞTSpƔ2=]OZ1^yyu}Sd\vtx\ eEKᔻ7 4vߪZݱ5sfTB,H1Ɍ sZ|KK,7>_ndw4r$sx];],@#E7_mc(K^W5i5U-IGY,O}4.c6ۧMwS wrk~a,8BE{-Q/ MtZJ{'7a~wcʃ|WD[9$(͹huUYGhY"kiHLOt>j9[IMQOӹ9orJѲ7e;)JQښQ9Q9(T`3z+'|vqݛ^9) |~UI6sܮm%l䪴IT!c? Y#Nro=%}Sk7VI! 5Olj9p[O+l?URH#).94VA{qs#nZzg;5 3^IzzcrPϑ;jG.D8$ֵ2?hN27Vj AoНGi4$e޶*^1f{9䕱1NMXw 4S>IU$a #Hp̭֗}ҵ?ſ+ti NURA(|`OQFN8]Z)(z5[ƕ7uaW+}%Xtu51Øt W5_$u!ෙ} wn!m|/D˽^gz{6nC_Eo8-%9铃_Ds~~g3:--.@_pBCђO/O>ZOYQQmO8kig q? ~gcudg<;[+'q~XPIZ]Q]@o6 ;k'e_|אPѷ_6]UNr] Gㅔ%ƾFA%5~s_ kp=aT"ظ5^j6B/6E^O_" " " " " غ_Wy;-8bc0xuAڟFGE/4$վG2&q玫(ThC&˧Է+_n y{sp?[;Ahk"CKmƖ'̸̙ %9:]S0_ӯsFY+d-up%7W=({-jmpn3FoZ:[̴Q_ɯO^/umi6sz >jKk3O\yJr-lTju#nW&{y)o#NwdƑ)_n]x,q{ݗ;ews.ߖL`ni{ s3y`kHn..'^vMíF|+[i"v:""G\yueW.9씏Z}̚,тjIa~~1$Mp_ZèuuDqԳX>[B{%{=z 5oKxc pqբIKKS@N\?.G%qo vʿ?I1Emd}Vۚj2x; N+i9y.5o4[noǗN|O߉%QTSypZuOEG%ԯSJp`g/TeKcMh|\̱ayxd kK|ʴQ8%jV{EtK2Xs_PD&d8rq)v+|}])-``Y{˻pCK0 ^l#(~}zU`\I+c.#Pi+ 35<_\ Οwg + %7Wig %=I4#՛rƒz. iKfI<,402 uBj/6\=8#sb r^!-ߩ% /6va^2j}|*H1~x8^il ^H5oQ>JRzR3lSH氖`ݿ);5G /=~K(`[&Z>$7(2I<ɷuKN+8Rљ7fmCt}yh$p5s|$ ǽ2+WhQUB;0Ƶ߬g/^+u.ǿԉ *c4i](WfPX;@:!V] H" " " " " " 8@u8¾pF{kևSPG(s֜.#Y NT/40wds`[[NRBB8Г ݗH6P"&)$o\mx A,(.1gNлPqGi-Z1DcoRYȊW)黓wWImJEfSS86n^7>omdWȓ 4Y;L hKZ%6VT-ĺ,/SZMgοQՊCOd`1Ѱ;]x?<6?G5npk}?1aw5RK_64֘84.ESsq!cs'|o,W[] {yg9m `)E9S-4஢hn5wy3o'>~,tl}7u]fs1p2OU k>ގ;˃}8IS_*,MmKŤ~=>\`Id|9-,xz5"Ҩ#>j265Cm]){ o1!^k S-VAORcI9`Џ*5yp\lMuT^OT6uvyT<35e ExE\D@D@D@D@D@D@nʗۻD}Ҟ.#,y }p .Roc ϿM*i.&ߒyqgxUO1S\Aف37*UOXK o|9s eɻ |\ɊzgK݇UQeSjd|?zNӁTm:"j)m$MO\yeFilmp-hܓhu8 ?K y%g5V7GBND_u =̤w<*Vv_Ωhk*tOCQjy@9R tyD>N{c u^n/;_@y1Eypzvu+%I/,67OкvsHtwnI_K zBqhqu5[Zc2"@cׂ:yq~_V; nTp:5"\1!T3ɕ=CJ0YP@D@D@D@D@D@D@D}$ "B"[ `pkWT#MUJH}U4`3{lF>+ocķT)>7}&;OuLpI/{T漵?$\zmYZ;Y@wMOEku\mIҥSlhWMi˅GU]ie;?/GQzj&h./7Z*?gU2%q<~~X+mM,]|L&t#~g04W-SlX_Ѯhoz\H:o&p`5X)HqQvp'TuT$ " " " " " " " "?ҷ-Q' iIa)ԕ)NJ)K3擙+3KDmn\nO,ټYG$;ᕭ++'3!LSiusgPs Vc.SIRe j. {tU+f,g)w[wpבVrFޯFD" " " " " " " " "/ geqn6@SU@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@DmN]ui.? *c}q$4y@nnǽi[n+>{,U0Q>l]\ k.qz:a_D$RS sem!/xuvۯm/!{y9SPQypޗ폡c5{9wus8UxW- ƭ?jzgM5U)#e3ñP qTqIڜpө)UQq3q/ 6{T.{ⶌ_Kv9Ts4;[eQʮ~!4E[cWV!{O79nPGW6<2Tt3F%FZ֜+tᎹ휏/)⑜{40>iqLԔ:i5MkLc?T[gfg}3_鸵MVG{BI<0?j36ٵ{(U3 |z :GSƌ ~=xwlgzI z-nq ѡ`5]Kq##y{ܼ?a'[sgi֔\*K5Me%MXcc; (v{59tZ;3+>~ʽ=.Zcݤtk M;["w}L]3K=N}!SQrD̋Ә{O}g8xgtTŲt>6̆ދQ 6wfc-Ogw\:F3:z]{p.Ūk,~\8TOFW4z6<7gFqBͯ3&1j^~?6XǽuvZ5vYj0{ TQh8xwys/VLa2 aMYVV-D4R[isdF9-@rڑӶDnqRxn4ck߆\0f?yO%m{Ztn pۅZjWAin#MpH }#Ԛ›Jj[JLNwflx2n=5g.ѵVPx.4N,_n2R#\EvY*i4άWtjB+u!4!ܾ3!ϧ3(nqCGfuexOn Ӆzf[;An#T\%|UY3HƷ74xQ8[Mp ڒ 27Gހ S?:KWm@ Z|,\VNj !nkρ>" " "7㎁1sٔ֩[,#$4;sTw>N cם5&& ũs|{SAjjӨ(_s~ki\P՟bOq2g5p~wY3Fvߋ.j:-vUmrSM%,wFcJ/(q\6A)_齛w˔!n?F^T]?K2GPYds9eNQWmӉYi: wO9ZyO 4￢ھAu5K;8c*;X̷@kr=j;YңShvkmsi#w!d|k 8)opEu3>6:ۮ{,,w 6|,cg/?5ļTkn7i:7Cm54_}mW{SmOw{.GE/ ϼ@P ; ^ZgiGaդ(ijci.fT9p4J3z#ݲjZJn?L?TYP7m|g>#JCLm/ɂJ,g#@p2xwLOsP]/K 5-u:Pk|: C%237r\"QN\4]lZ ۉ;/>X@kt@~v%EDpOm=\u%ަ_}{Y_twnsD@D@D@iž.`ּ46++]i)kCG+0űW}} t:Muj6{ǴS \sO( r|%ඈ֖-(;Ǵ \ww۠5|`8شHU+Wy)xz58cMI^>%YFDi7@tm_m&j 'Ϛ]'q7qZs}5h+ݪzr[D/٭Lkg7>ހի=85$wifc䕜|( *%s߉d%xce5}}|Y⢆i)91g.!jZ)np|p7>~w8lv 2]M4t}C Zk]-N/e gU&`/ac>{8?g:{=Bqjv`Zbe٭97nl@Y8Ϭcit׶ZhX~( ?{z[hEYU~Nf2NceP7kck'.4ƞv qsy@k{fXeOAS\D :ܽktҰ&>.vW񿵗@pKN֊_fEBG3{ ( ®<]e4TQkW{9xa>ָ@z:(n?ӐK҃NwVY1Yq/t*J[}hk$T//s˧4[O暚L3qcr@jղijfm֣+C(( ɧMMgnQ3 LgoޣᶽPU~L dV7!CO}g5z[I]g4RMS o2so}J]/F-4{ I%K.:χI#rJ@^бTYS^)Qp:5'x}fџ^4 8Oh[Rwojwsw@Cl3,Z_jҞY멟yxo޲t77_vO{[怏к֒tilUtJ Z\Daz_Afw\d4Nձ-tLsHPP7 8Mk>j}?B{]-_`b KK#ѷY%wQOUœ|C˦t.mljWsrbFŲ_ 8Ce՜:ԴH(pkTv{rY5GV4mƧ+= + d+L-Ch\)cA4gvWmM3tPHNK2Zy3@{޼q4.>l'Z"ָuo6~ZI^,ѕ2U~䀽\%⎏~9:~OjY)>u:fO.>oeWEWQSp?e(a5[պCpp/kZ~k,p;9MzX(+dT*=-sO!+uӗ/t>W[o6ѽkg*CkNԗ]%yYC_=XjJG45쒀lN%w CSl:co3O '4^8o4wM)as=sx]N>._ýIq0:GSkMP,CO\u厐RQ1cFK E\c֚R`V+p9]4۴k:{l{TjY"rN^OZcx{sy+-֩ag\N֖y3MO's'׭|3cK[؜~gcm\TѺh޵o M٪)wF󽁹P-4̴j[ 3+Ee++9cXmtҚ˦kPݢtW c>'8/uLWXif_4 MjjyռanPq'Tjz.ڏ%}-i<ܸi,mŠ:kPi=I%R.N$|P[[ _U'w%$i\|vWrlmgBڪR@ LBi_1=M !x2iktO6G/RhMgeF'3X>,&ֵJ&ic1o/7ϛ çTdvzۥƤJ*wM4h$.l:7Wjl14vsAGF 99֊պo^Jj)v^FmtCRyds* " "ѿn6-`sY^y@Jc@M)bkuS2Gb²Lo䦪=xc^* \@M]+X2frw߭ !Լ`kW-l~<Y]A3/vgWi^ Zz[n˜sSsKBUU}7Xjd޴;j6kw]F{L8î)/OW-ۇV=c?c@~QO> vO 9Y?z=횦Oapr>[C=Jv7:^+unT]ECn'ub^,q2zvk=6ME[W|?GΚqn|BYkY[~Եoe8s1{U&be}={ht͢C?/ߤN%8yjд:Oܯu4 ?h\Or5=X=\>i+ew 5TM4}hj྇{s-T3.Oyg5E'xG{/Wu55S^n.䕌{=|P_cCk0W]ot4i.3T>wr;npOv} v._yiG%]u=;߷>5nkC9~8U4[î= YWqMG:f[ZpZk- Gc|W*u5M6^Ƌ<ۓō7Q_8{[5 MZWK)k&{}Zp및g״{fX3=vp#JCWxef}a|}{̀]wGSxMY[[+稞gs>W$%w-ӌ iT9ʘ[$ u*p6}8ʪpS 7;ݷM7>ۈcp\@'4UkogYn{ܼk ;sq+o@ϯMinŎCG;_Mlg{?,7OS5SȎqkd=׽l{q7T[>Y]jkZ[*&ǰ{C{M 8Fj8eіoimtUZ+V{]7r=~> c5щf}w%WxYs=ObFSAۅ}L{Ww/wtr!ϴ.;gY8ī^itտXNT#3Y_'EΤ.𴛝G7|G4?‧ě?h=C۴MTƠH4iho#=/<,w? ?dl(#km 5E@YxMZsqK=;w}_@a_GwUogTvihKx{?sPJU}$UUtWnhmi|q#KR'ᎅ\}i ~x@5|ݧtͿA^sWG42Js\=qVt 5mm%}T+۟p4dž4t=g UoAS}ceD}Ӝ,Զ-f; @'* m?r?3@k hۛ˾L;Zɻڞ_% ⤎_񦮝ឃ޹Kr3 3zs4Ex8*Ğ#jjm#j->T;­k{([:cATA~+]͠pϰi3"i}OS[OiPQ2i{?܏ֶ0[.!_.Z]Xn21vF;2krL駙H|ʢ" " .lˏg_rm Jn]Q-1cbk@f-<;F1jA11ZvE3g?+?H7>#uoJ]roG Lφ5-:x?«E=k. ͸>V4޷Mo m{3ji/ ?~k)$}O3 |0ڷ3TشWb +1J=xc.r8o+4% :: t3\l3sx:5_"bCx$>w5} slнaۇPj=PڵX⾮GIY B g+l[/}YyaG+aoYm@s]ݤ]k/P]4=5̎^2 P8s#)pZsmtQciݗslkN]~ qlV1m{kpWqw{f*K鈄,iHrw4 -K?E=|6i6[j=.S%|/uc=FWvS/М(ۨu;=Yay9k99n?f fMG.\qw݆GLgƱ>?;i^n[m[$3`8xǞ ~;9p"TYaԯW;d,|,k+5-ƽhYgҴ:H(io|1~x@DsWe_5|Ue,Ԍs [߻=Os=O3u_[s{K_~ yXpCMէz>oв@ƺ7٩ڣ]>7Dj:6݌7;T+ƞPbZŻSkQ8գxߤcE^aeXuK#kbx ;,Dp7)륲[4tP2i\ܞ Sn۾gh n+]of~m3ytv*8/!hؙC ]#|/ 1g 른7ˌt_u֝nM=z}j;Gg(xoQ.Ri*w6cy35x8onV.jn#VPSԺQw~:W5>N*P\3Ւxh-0׉_+G{_h?njkj=ƃK6(a5xݤuu:{kƾ%Z"?9i v> 4%%t4|>Lˑ7=܃D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@jMGinVZ(psA}{ vùbYp)M{ja=)LaZN۪M8Q1a?FhY3˜ 4kE}mD~()SR nF/ot{vI#pa/w+|X3h=QUt}-ﯞ'ז{ZZjm1>!;O%tSԺm( e<]͋&:IzַM#CKKhUܩ}Grq 2[ hkv})rcd{.0>XM+wc \(OtRMu{tSm\vIU٩?=c~ǸVNY/Q_k^,駦{! {> q-oWWxuNZ[Ǐ~rgo#5Z=jqT*[W-METs~Cg7}oAt,dA}KVZ$ӽչ}wrem5tUmT +j\yLS?V> ^(h{nSy̍4Rs7{bǀs54l.6**vhM96r7="U G^YMPf܌Lcb:svڻ= WT{dzw.s99z/G|_U_C=i"Vwc|oNۣCHM]3.C S^{}uMOaۤ}TϠ^G6 ז9ynzz9~{%s ܕxsCu;}#e=EGL6ҽa]O 5+c}\ns9G.@TpTi5-'A /<M^n9y/5ev6+ ־'1oPߠYOwsoܤ$ך}˽Lf-K)YK$Rgݜ~~ k]vdԒ[۟tc(-iD@D@D@D@D@D@D@DM7zMSlUz~[j|f{~$9R?6ã-շKV+EjXީ |ܱ@d]ofӼ"7랫R t|w>rx|ƠkTetSPLP:F-9gǑOQq>yU[j+3wG'$a{Oܱk54U]Yub{w lU=a]CWAKn7Ezw )9u)ivf}, <2AOT#Zie$s> 4=[iZ\i)/!e9;b즊VjZTaRf w5s盪sZq7BdZ*ߥ* s`ϭVw?D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@zttmc}t&i$@xU$Xf{t9Ā " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " "G Ep+}Zi>~~h8D@D@D@D@D@D1"PQD@U!I dfew;c?5SrJ[a@DhuCZzi \O&Y@d.8Ok<~SGK;e@5g<~[˲GmM|5 EAEPD?X{]}SZrwX.sQwlkSZѹE;jQjQ##v ykMf gd}zFjM'PfL|,cUi{ -і]/E2v'-]qh ;5/XnUUHiydSsr=\Ii.+})~٫l4UUQ^mS{"vr~2UcInzFZ4nPu)-^7.˕޳qsV+ͫDYtoh3;|sG [uB,mw{{˝zi\R\Z?X¢-\UYZgc?᜾Xixckp-iweۼ#-4>}K!?a}g\mG 9/8$)'3X\6g^1ܴ᝿W[MtUMRײ>7e=3:t0:MhN]-K4 -:#We !T2v{k\/lfSSH~/e%]in➤nYk`9҆ -#Hj/pA4[OU}][x勐ls3=-[8 ^2eWwнc^Ǎk˲7nz\Wi.7 d/c9 }r #JZ8Qf 45Ku5,8+a|rpg,znנfpp sw?&O-\jڂ TQ}ԯVg!JpFRhmzRp,2EtLWϫyހќ{Fh-M٣Dl5L;a3|^)83}=8yieөc!睿 8@_| H όʬY=9n\O w)>J˽/ͽtEMY[q֏484.` g g7Ÿۏi:K~ɜUhT7%}`D@D,:Y3?VJ8eW"Y7(^" " "oI D#K?%:?Sݱ!lK?~{\*ߤ{T@ZgնAihK|3܀Gk^\8uÅz~JjZ[U 3 i)vTq*si#ih?=yGocUPq;;3je?PI?~_J:2hշࣥ{aoHLtO~:-L  s ZGp+ܘ=Bxh~߮e؀҈쏢W-AC&sP9A_Gz3_Ȁ?2ve]^;&o9 xY5 ~$Ұ95[.$@~^!R#$Ixf*}1L-iȚ};qǾWs@~P,.IE%+!UoZ3BFv_êEhpӜJZ\OO>,@~a >eOZX9p8!5QeFl{F_15w %Ǧdt)%UwlE$ I9.8m@+OOƺuwnwOG 9甝9'?~ G.Ɲ{-ΥBHV%D@DF^z::2:rQ.wR:%R1iUޥSR{D@D@Duѫ]_Uc՟˃l}dWw/ÞHQ@zpY~4\4VSS>iYFb>#S[CYnowrC+ ^y HI=tg8H˵sf42M` 掂i,VYtl2 \IQ.27Me򦚎 D8 t?Ǧp=u.\Ym+'oQLXtd 5Ff<Hq<1.3\r]O-!TXDȈEѝ(D@D)|Լ WЭxťN~r!9uWo-#?RQABUȱsKN_dp " "-Nej^gwֵv)-"j{2V^*&O1 PmOrVMMUM+fX^XȂh/q;QSDXFw) imNs]XNn xS* MO5+X+7-Z|$qsrIP|SXZ朂<:Rm.շʡd5/ nO9ӗ{R۪#lP 2.Rch[=5(oZ|F?z_j;7?W]g.o^W8d5*JN(jx) Wʆ?UnC׺ַ^kb]RT#aaNt;|W=inZPwu׸uUfvsg`=]J+czdD@D]PR5S4ִۭrd2E 57j;s,}~W#sH<%[m9EKKs <,f)JBH{RxE " " " " " "#ѺRQoL\{z L.|2{Z]겆孷699aF0ɑ[穌MY6l#Tkʌ2DS3jXS:A<26GJj?KѩuO+#G%5G.w9뭨+xnVyQJ&@D@D]ۻ.mcȏ 'g[$[v++1K$UeiӍH.+$h،b7zΏj&Xmg+l!\7" " " " " "- 6ܒv+IEeJrfsbr[t0=2v/4Z6;RǑށg;GӯrF+7Bq'Qii>dc0aĒ؜l>$ hڪ7ֻ@EcK~\Ys*}X: " "DָyL,YEH 99vUgc{~ߡ"fݗx}f?2QgKn1W HF<וz|"lm.(;e)(hQy"T7wUцN{ }kj9bΖ6Z|cy#0stw65NcQI)B " " " "l0g^Ęi[37|:\væzVPiYZav/';3;55QVpGwnycemR]-kzu"_D@D@D@d? )PYX_|=Ֆ[VԥǑܼǤXg8Ȋ`q; <^;_*zݡQٙZg{RPҧRoUhL4o_\I*Y)"kj4'n?K! yF{ٴh*ʄ$ZQZ?rV1jK(*ӕ)#PD@D@D@D@zkKlXg cz;8q"졕]!Km~ҶÞ wϗ>uVQ5*f:h>?zRwu.בѦjau֕3ˏMղIaJJ+"" " " .g叅p'm Γ9@C&f9Z z{cRTfG#3o 횞㖣~aʤTQS%^\㴶>}{X{D0|tT6ܙZ1Z1 lY+2wsy=[+TTXd N6?PS7$/7j4̝YqǸFnLǞRT-sOڐqpoO@D@D@D@t0dUleK_,gl[]yDʊI@2RkLO.?/ާ%o;XO.*K'WQ\QXǮ5re:dtۖ#,}iU])# Dq?6lZT%YR>.A5ިK]S-'9URF8v" " " "Q>iC#%d 8ִ9Jyc~Z+aFSs68uvw:GAS{kr˵*(;IpF;+" " " " Uڲ{3#IՎn⥶:چ_y=E}\C w>W\P4fVl{4Y|{3Znjom\zVXع$}C>055ǯUS֙.ıw#QUcw+nÖoA^ is8ǟ;bR뢬sܜEq92U/y$ dtV^ÜomN ~Rth[zZ5Y1iUFr&H]1 k_ZԨڈL5i7'Y^ZƄTqXD@D@DR$2J5U'O,=vf57V+[G%Min["3ש+V+w:y|yN Q}Jl6@D@D@D@R6K}tΊfH %%c(,3cظ= DcTi~tySZ4cO*frqy_LіURފNqភoVZ;_,Q5V\]w}ꮝCpFx5 ,8;mȷ5>zE9'QȾX-zgR9z؏}jsr߉\Ө; r+IClۑznƶR\Q.YOpP4w̌ZI^IaM%G1MAKɨfZw-g-=5M$z+Zʤ|O͙;KT2`{yZ朇*EU6w'FV76oU؉{ *QDD@D@D#oYvҕwjΘl grFSsd[݅=v~7 ]l2wݼ:n95%s g֒Օ>.%+" " " "  EQziK_h5g:wY)ӧ/rJk.Ä+ɛƚ=WoԶ'%Jlm>ACËu)[ b\"ya` ~ JQrȰ9{:2p~_]p^U;I8_F'#%qSUÍIku5#ccijIa>'M(eʋ8.奾ɨ`gs1sފjv[+ |\ͳQu5j-,3W!DnOCy-!SK?b%Xlu ?Ttҝ' 10۶ǒbbZYpNtTF2|rΦ˹^T{j_5wWnԂ" " " /q:kUME |,eWIkӶimye3\LdZoL,,IWsSw5\ W_t!5w P/aN*(#0 " " " " /6Wg9@ۯۚjk6Yu\B⛋Zo-!uIN]aj!_VP@ 92:3~ JAT6r1{|V.eNK>iRzeT9fwE49j7叒`8+#QLdD@D@h`/t}ڬR6,3HH ]n]eBr Ru@QՔk?YHյ L; :lu"1P>"" " " " " .)jOR6p~aJj$Ly1TNDjԫdgow l٩2 {GNSk%č0"66Y.n͝^ڗgWWS9l;vd> Ojt$K4R gC=WJkSq:$2ZYU,~yFf+we(Z$̍ǧⱔBhpxsh;~;-9FˇԸv}{+q;?u TSSsB R_y5,w?rډsx+6IRx{}ñ <ZB" ]V#|+instCLG{RFN`W^TU_ܪQ>}mAoh@9`Gjk_y+aaCrω ` " " " " "H(2;.ď0]ºW[+A#H-|RGW'RgtSU],Q"̜#|+J}n7AWSQzI%쁬.쵪PpB)w,C^? CkʎQp$6Gl/2F(y6d:N__/dpd9zm~xdc~ ї5#'B*rݨYNݬR}JAQ L;}lop9Ql\2kKSm*sl"Ƣ)nufe%{|Up !zbzdsZ@>Gdt+uj]sSE"v/Ie66¢ܮ3ճbY&OHu+a=7w\.fϗr7W^yyr\dsCZV+T"PdfD@D@D@D@D@D@}@~=8RCMrН2`"E[tY 3SF3;eHx%Tȟ%#=mWOPsNiScfGv+ W]xdžW: ![͌]ۧ]nvs$ov*cy"IŕI:yꈫ99$uXf<.о1Q#Xߏ^EuoeE#gg!= PzY(" |m!שԭ\RSEn̏T;ɣSn*x\J]SＹ:̊[d4TF?pV&Vs8h;7c;2Á`" " " " " >QJS9iǚ&8ssth$@D+X~K%hK͢G08%~K\縲\l[jVKpnKS;w`k "&:.t0d/wsrDwFހUU7*̟__>ϲ5 (z~$vz;$v =%Dl癣l7hz?vVUU-ªx2dc}EU7!~lj]E/`n-lN2 Xe0hUW)+(/9fn9KaY>7r9r >yqeZHzƻ $ygRYGϪS)8A_nxYgj+,z7F!SR$m#^9c=O憵s㦦g'm>^Y;Tu}hqj;-uׁwwWOFo?SMRB " " " " "znlu< {H֐xe"i&s#%On_*G12JW^lu£Yi30nGVRVïmsC5KIIrmHܑ_Ի*j]Y(/߰*sZYi o1F71k^ dTcQ>iq:#EaUٹ4ޑABhTh*v~ƆI Tje;A{2<Z^~M53u? .϶vehN" " " " " d,&2]ꭐԖ+@trIYMi*.U:A&AR=v^9\KݏcNN ]bk?X ]CBuGO(cBN]!(!25G;N.j7p1ߦ^g?=|{}agMOЩkBt#㮹\$-7_zqsǯ^"̖ ֫WAN$}TdG+NN/pNʊa+> joք床70Y7jJcT~F6|f^U״|JRR1ʋ˗^UMVPDtMLv@k+T\x|:=7 vFYy2\Oձ5 m.P5ZJ MUQ:Y}:X]#JJK\ UeVQ\ fe>(aexGnuL-h{NZJ"o" " " " "Mo3s^a@iw-N9GȜ_!M"O2:;mMCq`> }m+(* lY+ \>9I7 AiK%MW]G[&# 8܌g?#dP•еPc8$sTZRؿI[[ө5B+c.zsa$H`RN*3NhT'ǁFA*ntЖd泥-.ږgnMGT# #etNO-h鷦|=ev^ԣBG*f#wQV%{7-A<5ݶRWv/ߧVPp9 zg_5kMSXG-h:1׈_##o4kGLK,|# <}#\zƙ0Su%I|0>GP1u4oZg#%oکtFuM-uֹ"nvk?lHG(m+j=# c=\D$_,uҿpVn zEFJJJ34zw8Pw3]o ˚^z oFu65atԴ {A?ʙ5wof c<d(ZTZc׳ގKnʌ(5ϵa[U0M(1'; N\8St O?mI8rrEmt|G=9U]RVFF~)/@"'|VeD@D@D@D@D@V8ԎAS#qPꫭtq:Ip cFK hhM+s*5ZF|.xnZIGc^ҬK1OUqRA}sFHuD2W2h6>TД\7>Ǵn->JWRosh颃مt7D%; B[`]ua.Pѷ&rgK}*B]V͘}Ɣ8ni}i;]<*pv!H/f*w6!4!d%iq.t %J3wl,:fjh?ڡo@T%:uYRDetZ;ʇc8%KVYiZhSu%@\s*+9s Jz#{Z>?A!̝צܬ.VȘ@vcZ\gO ٮ͹cS東Һ+-=mY[EEo.:XDQu{z)JR;d[ރ얲ddrIt {ˢ8||2Dzv5_Z骡e9s\V]g^㎫­IФ\;۲w :Hxq68=C>WxwT$wܥ;g^o8]u֧pΞQvuEYD3U$o1?+8m5a=l޵NJM&r06`rվI .$zhn|D@D@D@D@D@D$%FK:LKWj`Yy3c>yкUoά'4u-#J!%6cr8+G0kULIgq~sٔ_a^lN١siZ_ ߻q8^IASӷ߷)tUF֦:cw+%t4Wy$Hf0T=SH_ERBG+V2Qz~N^ﰭcTItiQ \] Y [ݮMLfa=:BVj+{._BmŹsQ_(g;N:R;g)CD)#93^1Qm.s+Zp܎ *tbc0~+ED4wd$t}PF5_&qFյ%{{ݻ|:YujЗҔ`1˟%MVI :)0p-iXѡw-3RŃ_l:i֒qПYf?Xɖ8d;UW_;@\l @WPIUzpH扎}y)$x;̯53;iqu\HLq@ϗN֫4>wJ}jܴLFEOHo3d=\<St~𑃜g*DVGV[l#h8(d3 aǨ+oKrE,g`*.(E3s\C˃䨩d!@D@D@D@D@D%#{'Ji;͎~K9~NEcpJZHo.m=u4P$p6##ׯv=Fjk\27uvʜ>JZ' f\cqhv)K_<QG󏑄 VZj$nz\=AcAokglR:.W07TT)O[A_QUUIXxa!>DT\ ՀN1(ӛ#wu;ʽ82~+  .dc5%GBp$u%("ڍ b SFޭpr7@lFԳԂֹ1k4*o\˅Zxi;Ȼy~{_{-}IbVR1uK';&`csv*MZ*5hU\'K G9#HVtn:I߬~G> Vxk )}I6G[lls{'Wsl=uo |ݬ@zeս.>:u \|K#:m*cK+&4SK?tmN;m6SLjqRCSf Zry$vcZ0Y<|HJXydlkg i4]KQv1JH7R:М(k4"\I9HpL^$'ƎC,ToZڨn M(tpqU۫mRW> Yկ*  " " " " l2Lp}j ǹ~ {1 N#p%zOUHZ^GV:7 z'So*soMlphsn $qsO#6hԝkdGGւ2V:{XμRsi%>Y<[6|biڪ[T F ^sE 򹵕Ƙ/EMOj9'-1Xj sfhz\tKE%kb卭g!p6vjK2ƾr-c09In|DzudlXB#ጒII:)T없?s۳Ij>&)~ 7.ͯﾠ O]I,h^!铠gsTseaG {*zuBס:iݧTp05o-[>&{'sRujϋ#aac[JCdF0;㣁6:pw=2{<u?:Y)'sIk. |#>ZC~.& HYyCI;=~;,h^sf״du-ǁZP/S_\{cս3@^p'}muEF~%#Q:NOפi, " " " " gLYejxa%'Ҹ |BkQC~iOg<.u ;56v;;967[ۆpPE򦒞zBck%g^lMSQe뱊8qD_N=?bNLs097%=c9[%MmtjZ{F|^ Kp d89=>y=173ݪ˯azr\}|L"[iT<78'ZstRs:V8n!#=V}rg\EP ūV f\-} 1n1<}a>{>]"rU(-khkx|ԗ璩ܱFܗ:]ert؜OӺ]SlH_י11yobpx$~Ǝxׯ͵_dJsӠPse9> o9UpR=A- N+Hy#cQ/-7{={]ux_OS `vܻ8sY==]ix8iO"iYqr׷g koWi'Vu/ 5T@WAtqo.iJ{RDg\pu"ꊪZZ]+dy^&SbQM `owW)-ǣzָKwZיe۫oAWbg*5@#c]SnK]]PdcgӧM֦<~>gR׎d5OT׿K]>?몂Ԝ Bx7H :H"N]w/2CCJuG=u m ' y*fR{,ۘ9 $qoպb90ស5Kw/˞Y3/hzZu<cwdz,Un6h;5{+fApo%u`wzb߷ߓtJ9 Al?iȓpHۯy c}Бd1#|'n潦գg8#t0QԷ.>_uJ_4k[e]ʴ3*\ȴ " " " " {䎧gy7#ɜ>*^˦/4ze/;as -;2ClVgٻ*zRyuo@O#8iguARj|/}av0difv oo,Zj[3#3sd9zÏsʔ^}yy䉠NK5X):sӯ08+[^ua'l>()CM hBhӓ׻C2Uq c з n6DW(d59/nF>,)S~]} ΂eK.TาCP+#,#qeVImRvz:ꑩ"qu'_zё:tdOgVAA~񁞛.oY+Y\upBVHG)S]M2kŇ7+KZ sзpVuN_Y5\@  _ZTDͼDv6wnxq$czܭ{lhVi$ӌ^ OsH1Ĵ?9f=}ɘ53ꮔwf=5&,7V}0un?B\zy~Fyii{iv6WE |#Mp.KR*YCtxݙԂF~#NKg<'sdܼ:JJ;UwTD9nŮ\s׮qm^Ʀ:4 ==ܝKǖOϩ{iov>~7ՇOf&}HP TFpqp|ʵYT >/ڥ_몀ml5Hyh9A7mNوi 9꥛qTF́GՌ5p?Қ`C )c˰sw[--E}q{< O3Y 8qekeXh{=m6J~`uaMFK J9E='˗ jhMK eT;Z:w-M]4āϖ'mtt֩[]u nF9s:D,B " " " "Bt^"̚p$y,>։ۨoG&#|ӳi;qiXe@^~{8i>3]O,n$d :Nhvo+*ykOޟjԦ}y(TÇC. 2W-+8}[<^jUK8v3X\Utr79~>8Ez42i2򖵰%v?e CbdTW@3gmjRWm+=O:J]'lAQNx$k\p>c }H{ io6[EUK~hc<=-cVչ<1ZW+j!h#nz5O\wjݗakY@D@D@D@ } (&ACǠY,zJqҞH`E+ uoYɶ]J<=|GTzQ(mzO$p7ۇqDuv.E|3'OT2wrw#LHo%\c/p_N޵ ֙}e'xj%{V}RpXmCj1==MTJejc-n"nЍ(ף.g6R(|81O$;h7,yei-?tmt֬QRYܻq˲{+z_3ٵ^I35vcOD/B==\)[uQOq(]Nn`v~ *t{\<:rlIFCjK sFHWn'EKbsei,$DlE>E3;CKOA՝{5mʽ /854ˬ om1K˺ҜǩӳGh.|!/{I#mXبR-ʹrr>asB<ۿqm%C̴o9XTW0'QkDR7/MntJbC@=|զ J6Bfc@FG]Y4ڎUQ:Oa[vՐGS`{k$xc;x\wNeEGAV"5n|qc3OsJzx>طFѧ/hsrsӠ+éhv?VEvչ78xr8@^134dw}}%C{x0=4Iadx91Ʊf}պL+/<9I>*qS#lrӼǍ60W綟YQ,iFuHӯ_hI.,HO-l6L"krt_<+DZ?=ʵG%ѧjꦋ_-p \6^⧶ z0ጒԪ:k \3JD!c$=r~?5+mskZ\ g-~N V0rρ{-NWTE8??hDq8D\'yע M9> *:j3OWl7xᦖPCxrǎ9y_%3iaOtnAR=-el2DOcǐT>珇"l*: &:7h;-r[}%|zvK\}<饉't9NMTjBg$sq-q=5ގqI:9[~д녢x.μh sJLM |b^l @ -z]S믹Z+)5qQi`k<L2doNBۚHh.)k*mOcI %mDcx;'1WujX+ Af3UGPX覅N$'0LoUtKMDZsr`08҂Uy\m-aw/9muQ6fÖ},u༯Ywu}|OiԖ+EUerb9̡_wDLd1q.vX\W_fxdE.c[q解$.2FGZS}ťu#> CR ],ku9F8>D~)8,>6=kUi<#n.\h?k=3S]n̶j0pld#ЖClCvpN>]wܫ\ʮU@pw_n-此/dRq#?1:wNWK0nf,ݵM>amWF LWJmm|38≪{ou9ʖwF!ߵ,%L8<pHk㷻PuJV;Ǯ~c>¦Z[8\wS鴵ٲ;39 Kv>KWke:R\r^iIīvw}~hH?Ih+hJH|n|{єF?Փ~Q &]%=0mcߧK% #muבX*Ɓ0Nz46< o#I V]UHjhS\@/8ΆO?ک#=/@3/jk8J_׼Ư4QSTN׿ࡪ+ii,h݀"ՠgk2 ҾtMs{1ăӧCqKQCv[h!1g!m{ZY\:3SvK |u9-yi+. " " " 6O~'׻&G灾G\|vdz֭N\ -GyXn=hgQCɒH2dfGƐ 쮬W)nqA"`<cVw`[AJyki֭Bj=.D*I;=2:eK4ljfC@H#s)FO]kNׯ˅.ԗ m}/=f7W251nۇ\Lk*tu54hdr#-?Ʋto_#ڐ||^$-B˳E(voQn-Lتeh ϟMqگ?J띛:ά_qczC!;;'P:ln{ f:mIʜ2ein%]Y 9_קO?jc$6ֈYCj5_'6u QfKÛIql>5@$c-'nܿJt]*we`=~5*+6}Bo؃iM˝9PUR܍3\rE)Wc=1U^UOo5w >^s%W׵ב;%}}}[A;;5Fe'%˟]q1u4dl< `,&^vnπIU7NwٮԓEQ;p8䱍Lͣs^y>Z 8u.vqϊ Uc_C:R_ Xؤö; P*EBn+ѮЈ " " "rϦ/FʪZ6I}U3bWYpQqAg Qe9#1Rsd`1k2<&Pz 8e{yX\]2~/:[e.KlHzIƪo˯/Jșѥ/ahqnN| '*ʚzu9ƻS[$*Vҝ('kSeik7f"iMwuL7V9xZvǩ`f܄+kjqU-'AE]x"qZN6~c|ٮ2IsErqKmH\|0>JTuǮ\gw_bֵhanAB^xf?pٍM71>& =M$|q%$}U*l.vU^>TTKN|TՒū5,V ]ƟvWeVFu)viazϴDqT]j8v=$x@utg[CMSB#1<qstbQ̵'9>>TUwS N0=mЀ|~ݞhթԐ:k6y~!J:p_o_Wz.PׇiǶҶv=oOY `>KhƜ%eM%8o[x]hdC-Ŋ'=$_no|c8a䬩Vuu$,123b._2QOzi_Y]#b?\ -h #1EUG@pӊ܅#$.3:o~Ww;̓IkǧN|O$SYvi=Ng+AkD֖cޟT:Ӵr :FN"Rֺ6P͖c4be>,iqՍ]ߙA%Ȗ}o+!cy3!,|tIZ`Ӹi=8x(ŵ>^JGS4 htN1[ Jj:ٮTVTzi(7m 1yY ZYz-:7vk$ uG18K~R48[,Xiyy>kRSmw~Ri\ O]At; ӯbGDyREQ ;YYCL-ϖHWDA٠O̠#iw U2*VW:.hݞF ?~:}-u?!qUZQԱrXr +a=^|aWTm}F:q:}n4$}266w r2^Hㅬ?XoU}E8I9r߼7c:zb21t@nt[5+5/ճ rH)i' 8-}{ @&|L"H^\ǒ3 ˺%sBLwL;zqw8cd8!$`.fҌsh辒H;#6TIԲ~z:+dqy꣇i_m6Rwo?Z Gbb[.$}vmO$Zha\MAq{Y H5% " " " nqsOҿjkEs.;Y|o:Vm%ʩ|e7Y$g ʜ\EC]BH1qϒ4U=xpe0HC\dz8 Cy)XeVJ1-<1IXp l34y>eDQoҧtKë :I gpK$<`n"T5QOs˄uF 'ym/ξ޺#mNv=u+yu0GX羅'E>Sw:KOQÝK4.ď`;7qTE_ǯR njW=X9nԥ5ʘNJ8ʒRh:2{C>x[Gc Ҋژ1=WYGSw /X1lGǷHFYS}e@!grQ4=/./#;RJws=jZ9 \{vw6Et&r{>&8)YG!sRS*s\~;lQZ# i^Kp걷ap=q䰚eWZXݨjbx۷˯OTi]O#;LφW5ޅ]uZ]*"l;,+Qwr>]& etq0kK/TRw̏|gguJt&Zu???-}֟3*{QXkO˺;\-HU" " " ➖Z88Pcݟ,7Gjkw--MP{{ 6q#S qmAut19r{?>y>km-ڑ㎺u%B3oiZ;G]WrFOs5Q.o#Y6k/)'{_%r)' 8wjc{r~f0B9wa0~ӹ˒x?cI*ɈE ZL8vXfQ-w #`r?.Sr#Q 0il2Snn`3h>8pjZ=AO Sc`qwԲ2YC mJ )-w7mTC}VҸ{ 7iPkxȉ!퍅Dzӯ]msCD;/3!|]O_[CI{dYc]vcש^RONuGv|W]= :ұ_?Ż;9ۜsnuppP㌔~ lfI'||sj9z}ڔI察S#oh'W 56 ~ V@_ۣ1 <e~k8/>%dl96U\Փ{5z?e+&CYm|N]2/4Ab2Qdk(R1,;{-ձys+!ܪI,nYtRymwRUFr_<(3i_-\oBC-4Li`7^ ++梩Ѳ&=Ā3玃crY'4rCG3vW^lRZr=[QAFiF,qrH%Y(m<#C썙w+G6|~{SR?Xy亹l ':oŒ5ARJvHs34ht]ms7ǮTJNpsOE9x=.`7Q֊A?{?7/.2H +$ 3tc3*AjmG,~wj'<+Ku4XSWNK?&C."JfYy*4=M#2w#E" " "_k7_kt2y~`PΜ9)x2ɬ/.穵PTg,o3-->t9S7˻~Vηdu}۱6z>lr~"am?x=?Pt^؅]A!c z`+|hlҭ'm%{pQ7C]MUﻷa1i(*9\v>{Zj^"W_=4D݀>נ G@MU{I l7#j-W{LP[é!K>Eu7VK-R]hYGTᒖSs C vx@dj3l~NU3QQFȊig/Rƅ|ܟFlT CFer;u]{j7h_A+H#=﷑~2-s-*g=uڬ֖+P٬ic|Ǻйdt'm^;jZ8m_n90Xt鍲:4|^4^\YҜ՜Bi{dK63{z`}Ju_t01 SXըQHJN+).4AkCpc/Ri%seю󐵨9)%Zv9"1ߛ~vm830TxN\JCYwŢ=#c=A$J<$FFsqG@|rK4U%$yp; ғ:ӧ|8c8'l P=Q5ʃB@]rHkb ?5h߀T̰reU;;Yt&sYl& ۏ`+]yc)6[ii[3~>BOY-W;zg'˪dDckLK<4uMyzJg=wz5lGW%ո=qCjmmō=D1nCfT[u<Qҹ,Il.>EOXX%"*שX}'!\$>U_nZQNp'w!aU66YNqmm}&I(w>p ZTKK_3as$a~Cq|s%W`qruI]Cls!w_,k:G\:zZiU#["D@D@D@VXviЬ۩"9x?e۟ 5z /6^өaStn%LǴtWhn#vL6vs>En;*ԮaZ7E.M-DGWQZp/LtvOVlR2]O#wVG{F"GX)sAki$go6?%̺^Է*b6Y2| `F\IpjBztI!p ^nO," oupGA Ռ',7 VfC-3-p_ަo쬥MI<2]*{} EFҔ2&aGCvߦa:ɣRms_G9\l1f%{y̮7#i|y|*UOECa+\wF ;en ˤc5*I]5q3n|n[i֦O>+vΡy 佼sۺw K5u D+I =GZws8H3[ܓg_-5\O_塞f<`Wss߭Ҝ3 "KB{nvF^j lg@{}eLhgMPs+S@B\2RxiT4M/[]Y'$pܭv=x5fQQGT봅PFyp֓0e!U»4&6F敽wicwNVy0{[秌Njcq@35 |YN]}3-iRtZ*Põ}m5U5Ϟ'r4;d;oLg #-[`hg? w7{rgo#}rZf3K2"G4 'KZIK+ HD_/'GCx|p>/mb=emZFw%ҲzW$ } 䎁E.ӂ,`n" " " “Xy;VdXүZ{^#oAV(њQ[k톳dm8m^f^%uxCFAqJ:{/ 0 H\Us "'~FFtliÖl}%US #80c:#fG=ߤk :'w7sF@Vq~]`WhƥGJq}|Mb+mP6hO'$΍>}@ڏZϦO;. $p''=:u{%ږ݋\>dW-siX\4׾ֹ_]>1znqtT›G^-`֢ɪR2'1k>bv>j7sj5~t߇YƚJZo +N[US'Ul꺠Ӻ3?i,-Itg.6w{䜒mr"Q矱416_W'PS,?yY|n)\wGJ9y5&X38Cc6( |t #5vMxbf6@{"R̪1ZW*R4/2M[$vx;=5aln1Ӂ6$w$?rolaON?U|O۬@&9N2O~RӱItqpNoaP~q͝qlxkps2G(E\ -(Y#J191cY\@qi8Vy˹^rz"ƢtR~8.Ɇ$n%pvA%-ca8+:OhHcT]3hZSUP]F;ll=;Hc>Pڨ8;[k]Y%-z^֞aʯE-IgFڝKg{VSG.CóY4:r vA$Mw8\k!z,ɦj$>+'2Z$Js6.gNy C*o~ggy) ᥩ&><>ggeh?`q6U4U2`1sn|X~v1q)-gCI 5dT~[#n\ ?Ymvé %m4;}n)OoomJ̸27h(#hȨH͂9Fz|N:ydE檼2;6۞LXYcLPֶp~ Ӻ4-{Xy|l{.3UG,oȏ> ame-qx񬹾ngX곢9B:\J.Fd m/4%L<߫~Vv|IX)-+=䨗R0t{a}\š5eFeHƺ,s7>,L~K38pw!,+v]uUhyƇ[O% Wᮒn]`eJ6?%#peHJ2kЧk p#P}'TǒoV?09c 㒷 K&J^|< %Spm;ZH 㐨+ #M,owxpy-x9i"ۆv暒fUQ$7#ceŽϺrgt #D}1+'ՙ22Ih}>+`h֩kQ_ffic26ss9RaAS=1+n/VïNfSFn{ʩ2$/jh\+y27 mۺ%[~e q<9ڙ\ :h)XNmCR1xUW\2{%$ldrwv=Z:Z8S=AIJr~edj3+F4 ~쵄gגegt?6ex о ~[crFX|8|?Y);9y`$c|~xkeഇ e{;5u:YprÝu2e=$|Oge%8KY 22QG\([wF]%'8M=- h4v൲IhEy&"TLq~ }Ri(qA0K9=Bp&priST5$l9:du_ٖ㏠E" " " " &4Ω`;tf[S^M_-IuLà!Y_rO<0 Uc.-\i⡣x%oz9nFv6> y[ӥO~ZEAAb<<>D%6VJ1 TVq "s|>M '/$(|`k&k~yHgIrQՒ;\bjw^oulw `gw.{d1}?TD>fgY9Ai)ǭzw^kׁi/W[{MqIV̛ r VrSSsv_#a.8Is\{T:$U^qBl9AWzgIګ[iA3(h;tgJכȗ*rK/Ꮎ.%Ŧ#ch C R;QE݊@X|B%`dk-xNpc]Oq#h{ ?M1IK.$8gন-gzmȼ<%i]KOIwLә‰KOEB^dk;[v_MK/=ma #c<+]I(,enk(.gEEgeTջgO}U 9R[>gKÚK`QZǴIB</;%pB9݋w>khEcS_peF2ڎG7UF֏"9B8t8;B)5Nfe"@K+!|һתZ{3ϽNBRXE]MǼ`08Iݼ=tXe-qG5v_De;;!Mn; pF9}u,U-xvCvi52-Og0;*s{ox?N*.ni"|ܦ֢^ h]ux:FKX|9ʌUeD@D@D@D@ U}ϙ;5kij9\j9iaG4g3UƤJ*6d]vs2vcM_c{ZV5[qvO#{Mc\muxM#kkc`8`|=\Cush1V՟f 1O_޳H,?q4Nk}%FUMJ3iz`GyQL:^a{-qXMS-+;@y|=yp6H!jhUJ:KcR tΓK\lrrzsytvRim6k/q|l72O7HՍg{'*L/쵖'Mo1;٩Þ[0?/g{jOGIMI{ \{uB'Sq,SUoSnVs :njm]]$TF##m#oRQ/6V-8{x66>K<X$mY~>(Bk+]G'w\~e9s<#>PUNèj)NPXj2y-fel A{]l0DDZg䦅> kqAotR0ݦt tUEM Sf;~g>Q$8Q{9q = g$\Vj;qz5Scyks/ۢ>2}ǀ¸n{m9穐Es0#Ѯ̜h)jjfԱ$0;w?cX>k1q-1Y]lHԹ˔x^7rsM1ܰ*vxGoYd{_Z TZ52Q ]fc[fs>RjkUar둫7C 5E, " " " "Z#OK᫸j'y\W:;w#I'$>,Bf vu6O$sy9kg?lu T~_,`.Jz(Md($[L`yת$hWsM oVLoǯ]{N$6_V uSFqQ '~mE%ʅ4ޝu:Ʈj+4OaΨ"s֑:/:)O額ۜi:Gq>zr拥cV-wH{=Z"hw埖Ui }m7b"ZD<8AB1Q/[SKyשf 5]h {TԷg3;me|)Vٹ5xA1MQ#;aϫwǷyg׳lGg8}ߑR70ۢc[`96ђYU$:'|uоyj"lg!Ѧ4=P/[ Q8#FZ{,,%s<%:Vj%qMO.W&8kZ`CV{]r5cZVߢlo\\d%s\;j7Ǩm| |5ɔ{bce7Ϧ~hYIml 81SaÚtORCdx}UC)3$s`aYS4*#d 7~L>;Hϟ=Yz[-%,Ҿ>HA1qN>^lc)2bt(V5̏c9zZ?4#]M1H1H΃ ʜtj[{po:jίt[Ej *IZIՖ,:+Ka2:EjQɓ <$u&l5Z8培U;rrhD@D@D@D@D^]5=>g } v|0V(=ϟtz\O3uxX5 RR|4uqr=nrl|0'̷'$ @~b%';-!O#bg!=`vZ_\')94c~XʚrֲRPp!M5\Ep!!c;t'+o+7;Sjh]acvr:gITNR[ٖw 8Jp@_-U <c۩C={ӔBI[I$Wylqx}2j;=:ϡ\OlS =Ne>!T<'|GK:ۢ\+ @7^:`v*굪FyOLOBM;gOss2:wbim'pjpH,7aZ2A9n wdan{T٨47 T10e4yH>@2U^2g'6-KƧqpy.PjTp8!-{s2o~UIj cw4ϫw3VIϮsTT·$[eEop 'uO/ս?[ef^Jh"g$T5|mMgclwykrC>+FƵ/nM'IM6HewUe&IdӼ%s$3qu?y=|՝s&r_nYGz碓{h݂7*_PGyޣn|Ж nAOOXS ]=dpvK2Ӱ a-;dkKD2:' H#oAp܅З4ZFM i"pp<ǗKZGQB&JCy[^i-z|D ^&<,+)NG? AM۩)o y[k8 svί{^\ᤎ.͵G{;%|Z @D@D@D@DխSڦjdgwb-Ywd}Uz~K*hI!{!sH pUH$g-+8 `$w{ӻ񞞟SFp{R+qcWG!ml&ZO7!'䯚Ynnҍ `sY 6٣9*Ny_bd$fkZz4U3 -#ݭšI{uHx{XIo+HE,kj K>G9s=|H[9 o/K1'c'*3#?{OTZFVVJlju-W$."ڪvT}=7r@9\u\R\cs#Gs7N]g7Oy}~6S'2sFp6rk*Ifw3vA97_J]hh gIe۸m.^}u9Ukvkzɯnu|8cc3N|^v8ߪu79#QQ@A ܲY9z(X,G^/#ceQ. oF=q_z'IZlS@xi>'Ag Z{ҲMFsUd/L8G6Q 9v?x>W#&:Fy([U>F4b0HkA}Mwu+kg}%r#J*OZцg8 3Y"Xa7R 언!}\qbb<{g$Ǘ<|ŋVKpBg9)g2vcw0fKO+(ښ'jFKw#GB뺊XjG7&wc9x3ED@D@D@D@DlX핚~J_k~ plJxʖi{aX3_Ud5|r'cߊ5ymTfNXN5vpW7=D_7>kkhJ:W((WmT. G[nhv]2J6>Ϫp,|Z\ 甂GFr/;m}T'vYa,0㙬W4سg,eTSi׍Up41yzG,`$|~}wZn]?M&۵J1GP7|J|(]ǰ.Jy)w}--;yӷ61u 솉tP>IX-t0p3oLhM6y/nK{=s3YM;aypk=ѓҬNh8ZTC"#VYjӉNg6y]- uBq3j*XOu }CHѫNDnq<~K(ip`Y +p Ϣǧlt<a?ZVN1ÚAZ?V5QKM-:}\[ V^yz% }8*eq@PWKDOF<O z6 GJ־@{mZX>79_/ܓVx*NV4yŹuѻϩ5zm:")cnJO$G #1'}M6" " " " "4FZư,?M`@cM;yI\3P '%|@lȻelc"XoCF}O;}= sY9;xw…얶,?x-ܠs;gKyg67kGUIWS[x`q -a }MYU8zo8ʝzjYrB%7|m9Zi:E<,G;o޷Vhi{sFGW5B OMR9O%}єr6V:MsQ=SMGR5$uf?~GrctX5OPMK7-X_O\sG{I<jCc$ǯI3qfԩ2ahTR+fwqu?DP9u-׳1ޜVJG3v*=A&JM$cuҼ N |n21)i;͒'ۢ5uc} 1^>={Zg7ّ`I 8KY4[6Bsm'G|rQlԗOµ3| pY5c ;kf?vYysb`Sg,X0Cƹ1E_YG6hY!7!ĂѶ pehI15~2]mZU8Ew5⭣w**wJ5#8f<|f]x#fn9E̓1Z׿Fx#q<9z-K ˙Αm~+j]{ |:6eN|畮P~ږDԤg+EZKz 5B" " " " " ] |@^PPOqGIJek2I'g^ 6;SbGz몋^g\NƧ%*8_11E\ǒqߢ]Kғr@ tR=}OOhHnS1T!>Yp9ܒխPIp~ Q_cX@; w®,Ncc?+%NeEqqsxnDC3l㙾E7yvOڔNqrK<Ϣ8CNvVxKR\ރ`s6[H'/&c%e+e㢑[MV~G4~E%$88>{CxCAk懗ڞNqiEzfncHeŌ3oEkOe%%߻{IFyV~R;h5luqh7?Ƭ5stu,❟[rwYЇzu—CJ+]Zn#.?Ň;,%SDcF8⧻Y/[n|XF3E"yf<]a{;y] 5;ʑR4wM:6,~)w4H=k{č".IQ9;}bu3ȷE >?~>'=KQ:cwz-S4έlXsY,0+*mHMv]*)! K9p\϶jZC0v?%o׸kMҩ(qפaa@D@D@D@D@D6'3[dsܶ1uԟ ~FZ6vQ;>g,Ѯ{5[eU?@{ {h߻JvOy\岰e3t;itx(Qi5E)ˡcTo㺧&??%bġɬkH:Z^Zj&3#WsM/6 u* YZYKU3kvM#IG+eYnĉcC䌆8A}Uv]GSв$5 %@WV:aGIe6M(.ec7iSt5e40=RurCs^|:oL3TܡtdHZy tׯC-x)%|s%X㲣*Lki!a2uE·s}H? z[&ӽG6=K_]|eC$[.hqpy^q>A{nkt;J;F&pHNg(13"9Z<[d8yV w+G@l>`YwE;Jrq9egH׻.'?XFZf jWs5O!%'sP~5TuUU7Ze5`˜c?=#NwR=0*ީ c=/Ԉ " " " " "DdhvtO7qBx0;D}: X˻%̎QE!spw''%aQW̲4c UޜאAŦ-$(ڙ-am5;NS)]>_dKW/$mnI-JX䜷Y OݻLG-=8LxYʭ7Qv6{⦿ev1`bI'$䔄wQzG, i'|UL_&DlGLݧ]r_V,o61fy=:%ݙ=KtQFA<$_x$-ao+ƒQku;N,zVZ(ݗ1`?Hݧt}277.n|'5xLwа$aYqCqbYeڃD OMet&Y[;-ӲKG$O=0_MY9˨G]S=.o֏/OJ.0Yh8E7,]wO =] kn4mx0!/pWX>{v9lnۏ!ؓNTKǮgqUvnדf%J Zȥk< :}?T]lEvkfL.?Vv6L sy2KmCXbuXɑ/Ȩ5l[i,HWqF0,RR#m\҉j_P$4썺mMR?yyX/.Ea(* Sh^(:m7Īzw5-\xa6 ԗ H((e8> TЎTW#Tp2 " " " " "^b[z|Uqx. NEW9N諮ah}ݵЕ;kyQN2a1X`TA3 0kNdeUZ=/Zj<4U{8ƺ1\I+ndOaw+c`;ަ_tM:ZʑH~SNx4GeRu b[tk 0wkZge!ITK;=zI425ju]vꢢ:jc,^Č0 C!;la$;<֤C,w/(>}1/V?r_> (xJ[{twMBȌgnO].GMJ֗MDKF Ǟ:q9qF8+惡6Ҟxf'nTr991$d䧞8IGvXg_QٲH)nN? 68URHKx?d[QOXl)sQ5d|wΎfQJp5gԂ{9}7uM*Y{$NVa{F7鞽:/a IM5DUJ=>6da=?,*7it+c{ BI< ׇCA>:[T޴EؠMx'͐?Af`v EKr}{( c8~ q}\u=Y纁R:d =}u̴qjxX1{7I} tX<~Xt8u%9ʲԒrr;w W<5J5AܫELr27~_Rsn%*q}"Ro47)y@ߕG*MisI0V0(uKU s7od Wڻl%Vg;K>y|qQQj$QLa{ӫvr=0KakNzܹ̈̓&0ӷ]\aG+_|?-.>{w;oġ3\7 XMxci9-9-# FWE|W!YIltRg.D//nq..BdRVg>1z#Ӫ;^aJ;iFv؝u qԏ#kC{@ =ֺ,%_ us')p\:|mvTK'U%\YQjox*"Y7FO+}̋KꛔZ\# X[7)2IoK˟Vdcၠ0ǩ "fwqYІDmrӓ g tkR$w`;sĻ|E$ms^֍#p>ܱoy*{Cz"{Az'Y?3>9? UiUu%{*^ -Eʟ=H圑_jJ-Eo5KLp:syI z)sБcKy%q1Xuhcsz <ƘzշKu5?%;-;ֻ1o, 'vkyu9- =ڦ#"8[Te"CGYYu9sߏ; ,~(\5&;#Hόq~J-&k'} u y{9?rN {4ƮuÊPت5niu<}[z_x䑣l?4Sn:U#4=Y=UP:w5?7@O8klZE:HKZv<>5GNIU(OBŨ?պJ < ǮOZCԕTCL75ԍE,+' ɴjr}WŤ" " " " " x=an5P=h 8mGpf̏y.n?)Ux%[r;gν}`u?F',y/ZK6*ws+g q[&51TQg zH A6Z?WfՕ"޹?oT:dT7i0{t悲I$QKF&#=37ZަzIUROQ/8)% C4m#JsJ9w m-8ьb"&VF{!JYȸǓ `\k;XX)^J^;mܿX;ju;N=jUsAGvοSS*K1 $8ε Ϩk’;=E…5ϵ.:̢P#pov@^W;^bkq}ufEtCUA[m7a`y|Xm%.Њ*"{s0O,eImrjpjjJ뭢&BX\eϬN-!Qbiwss~FQЬwίGXYum]u%AlLQ ?vڎTVWԽ(w$8ߠޱ')=}m==OkϢ܂9)ZѾcϖ;s;Y+a>*zfj`zOse 㧗qbֵmL}dOE5[v{էԖ߬,v-,n@c#s`MaSwПkddszSՍ:JNڔR0ZSeQQ80xD@D@D@D@Dl7ٻN]wwEZ?SijS-k3 r3 bjgKm5&M!ˑOE-OŢ5H8&s_mZbM!G&~AjYknۘQ.G io$Hhm7Aˇs3!li~;)F9Սo39PS]Ʒ0uY-2Ϧ#))Aq2ng<-麍#/7gӸy|3*3sZK~dt|ڗi#îE%ymmT|OM&VZ/tMBY6߹AoBo~?Gljgｅ!g||V9;+#jʙi6&9ձ~9OQw\TH%hN-r^TT[/utnKlU ĸlmak* h`;84䟞?<,p|kQMV1 aK&тz,QsFqeg;'c Zv#{gR.}{pq_\ xg:6$z#\w\LFߣ,nhny<;|t⎍fZݹ#K@;U\[ʄ+ME*$t_;׾=i1Igsr'yI8T\?Ф(ŽxquiXo>I%{NHQw ̕4#58:_][eJ^C};c/756"V ,9l 38,~;V߁]+MY.'O@SnnHqNBs?޺ϳoZGψ皋OLFI \do%!t×_/bVfc &Xp]#Z t]{s`RHl7>jU*ھY>ܓ|C< > j (K;' c~XcdeA$w>,Yb MJyCD-dt8,|J٥'%ֆ\yxxA-DvGSo}Hߕq/!7d}%Bl|KtzhpHg?MLQ QkuSP5Lc Xk6TRjM[Zbj |岼-<v9sq5y3 a :R\cyO7 O%*w:68;I1i#[:ۍˁS\lcc8vrm-qjNKHϚg73z ;q i:}Vv=mS0na0LvzoaTAMkFIQrxE,NQ]אE" " " " "pVq8KčSLێZr~1C(7lVeAM͆>>Yj}ژ֞&J cwduJ'W j r2w~ 9=w#jvŢu HX(pwu32K-\-|;e? ]>.J`ZK7T)Yz4;Mgryq,q5SrZci%Q1E*riKU'oSחg d-E\;%:*etmv"yJZcՂƽWZ= + z>FR-uFK˿kzbnJb}@''u{#k<{?r>~\ ٣q[RU ЃSY nsFq&+'; qccm>ʬC]=-}]tk'hcA%{zd-WÞTSpƔ2=]OZ1^yyu}Sd\vtx\ eEKᔻ7 4vߪZݱ5sfTB,H1Ɍ sZ|KK,7>_ndw4r$sx];],@#E7_mc(K^W5i5U-IGY,O}4.c6ۧMwS wrk~a,8BE{-Q/ MtZJ{'7a~wcʃ|WD[9$(͹huUYGhY"kiHLOt>j9[IMQOӹ9orJѲ7e;)JQښQ9Q9(T`3z+'|vqݛ^9) |~UI6sܮm%l䪴IT!c? Y#Nro=%}Sk7VI! 5Olj9p[O+l?URH#).94VA{qs#nZzg;5 3^IzzcrPϑ;jG.D8$ֵ2?hN27Vj AoНGi4$e޶*^1f{9䕱1NMXw 4S>IU$a #Hp̭֗}ҵ?ſ+ti NURA(|`OQFN8]Z)(z5[ƕ7uaW+}%Xtu51Øt W5_$u!ෙ} wn!m|/D˽^gz{6nC_Eo8-%9铃_Ds~~g3:--.@_pBCђO/O>ZOYQQmO8kig q? ~gcudg<;[+'q~XPIZ]Q]@o6 ;k'e_|אPѷ_6]UNr] Gㅔ%ƾFA%5~s_ kp=aT"ظ5^j6B/6E^O_" " " " " غ_Wy;-8bc0xuAڟFGE/4$վG2&q玫(ThC&˧Է+_n y{sp?[;Ahk"CKmƖ'̸̙ %9:]S0_ӯsFY+d-up%7W=({-jmpn3FoZ:[̴Q_ɯO^/umi6sz >jKk3O\yJr-lTju#nW&{y)o#NwdƑ)_n]x,q{ݗ;ews.ߖL`ni{ s3y`kHn..'^vMíF|+[i"v:""G\yueW.9씏Z}̚,тjIa~~1$Mp_ZèuuDqԳX>[B{%{=z 5oKxc pqբIKKS@N\?.G%qo vʿ?I1Emd}Vۚj2x; N+i9y.5o4[noǗN|O߉%QTSypZuOEG%ԯSJp`g/TeKcMh|\̱ayxd kK|ʴQ8%jV{EtK2Xs_PD&d8rq)v+|}])-``Y{˻pCK0 ^l#(~}zU`\I+c.#Pi+ 35<_\ Οwg + %7Wig %=I4#՛rƒz. iKfI<,402 uBj/6\=8#sb r^!-ߩ% /6va^2j}|*H1~x8^il ^H5oQ>JRzR3lSH氖`ݿ);5G /=~K(`[&Z>$7(2I<ɷuKN+8Rљ7fmCt}yh$p5s|$ ǽ2+WhQUB;0Ƶ߬g/^+u.ǿԉ *c4i](WfPX;@:!V] H" " " " " " 8@u8¾pF{kևSPG(s֜.#Y NT/40wds`[[NRBB8Г ݗH6P"&)$o\mx A,(.1gNлPqGi-Z1DcoRYȊW)黓wWImJEfSS86n^7>omdWȓ 4Y;L hKZ%6VT-ĺ,/SZMgοQՊCOd`1Ѱ;]x?<6?G5npk}?1aw5RK_64֘84.ESsq!cs'|o,W[] {yg9m `)E9S-4஢hn5wy3o'>~,tl}7u]fs1p2OU k>ގ;˃}8IS_*,MmKŤ~=>\`Id|9-,xz5"Ҩ#>j265Cm]){ o1!^k S-VAORcI9`Џ*5yp\lMuT^OT6uvyT<35e ExE\D@D@D@D@D@D@nʗۻD}Ҟ.#,y }p .Roc ϿM*i.&ߒyqgxUO1S\Aف37*UOXK o|9s eɻ |\ɊzgK݇UQeSjd|?zNӁTm:"j)m$MO\yeFilmp-hܓhu8 ?K y%g5V7GBND_u =̤w<*Vv_Ωhk*tOCQjy@9R tyD>N{c u^n/;_@y1Eypzvu+%I/,67OкvsHtwnI_K zBqhqu5[Zc2"@cׂ:yq~_V; nTp:5"\1!T3ɕ=CJ0YP@D@D@D@D@D@D@D}$ "B"[ `pkWT#MUJH}U4`3{lF>+ocķT)>7}&;OuLpI/{T漵?$\zmYZ;Y@wMOEku\mIҥSlhWMi˅GU]ie;?/GQzj&h./7Z*?gU2%q<~~X+mM,]|L&t#~g04W-SlX_Ѯhoz\H:o&p`5X)HqQvp'TuT$ " " " " " " " "?ҷ-Q' iIa)ԕ)NJ)K3擙+3KDmn\nO,ټYG$;ᕭ++'3!LSiusgPs Vc.SIRe j. {tU+f,g)w[wpבVrFޯFD" " " " " " " " "/ geqn6@SU@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@DmN]ui.? *c}q$4y@nnǽi[n+>{,U0Q>l]\ k.qz:a_D$RS sem!/xuvۯm/!{y9SPQypޗ폡c5{9wus8UxW- ƭ?jzgM5U)#e3ñP qTqIڜpө)UQq3q/ 6{T.{ⶌ_Kv9Ts4;[eQʮ~!4E[cWV!{O79nPGW6<2Tt3F%FZ֜+tᎹ휏/)⑜{40>iqLԔ:i5MkLc?T[gfg}3_鸵MVG{BI<0?j36ٵ{(U3 |z :GSƌ ~=xwlgzI z-nq ѡ`5]Kq##y{ܼ?a'[sgi֔\*K5Me%MXcc; (v{59tZ;3+>~ʽ=.Zcݤtk M;["w}L]3K=N}!SQrD̋Ә{O}g8xgtTŲt>6̆ދQ 6wfc-Ogw\:F3:z]{p.Ūk,~\8TOFW4z6<7gFqBͯ3&1j^~?6XǽuvZ5vYj0{ TQh8xwys/VLa2 aMYVV-D4R[isdF9-@rڑӶDnqRxn4ck߆\0f?yO%m{Ztn pۅZjWAin#MpH }#Ԛ›Jj[JLNwflx2n=5g.ѵVPx.4N,_n2R#\EvY*i4άWtjB+u!4!ܾ3!ϧ3(nqCGfuexOn Ӆzf[;An#T\%|UY3HƷ74xQ8[Mp ڒ 27Gހ S?:KWm@ Z|,\VNj !nkρ>" " "7㎁1sٔ֩[,#$4;sTw>N cם5&& ũs|{SAjjӨ(_s~ki\P՟bOq2g5p~wY3Fvߋ.j:-vUmrSM%,wFcJ/(q\6A)_齛w˔!n?F^T]?K2GPYds9eNQWmӉYi: wO9ZyO 4￢ھAu5K;8c*;X̷@kr=j;YңShvkmsi#w!d|k 8)opEu3>6:ۮ{,,w 6|,cg/?5ļTkn7i:7Cm54_}mW{SmOw{.GE/ ϼ@P ; ^ZgiGaդ(ijci.fT9p4J3z#ݲjZJn?L?TYP7m|g>#JCLm/ɂJ,g#@p2xwLOsP]/K 5-u:Pk|: C%237r\"QN\4]lZ ۉ;/>X@kt@~v%EDpOm=\u%ަ_}{Y_twnsD@D@D@iž.`ּ46++]i)kCG+0űW}} t:Muj6{ǴS \sO( r|%ඈ֖-(;Ǵ \ww۠5|`8شHU+Wy)xz58cMI^>%YFDi7@tm_m&j 'Ϛ]'q7qZs}5h+ݪzr[D/٭Lkg7>ހի=85$wifc䕜|( *%s߉d%xce5}}|Y⢆i)91g.!jZ)np|p7>~w8lv 2]M4t}C Zk]-N/e gU&`/ac>{8?g:{=Bqjv`Zbe٭97nl@Y8Ϭcit׶ZhX~( ?{z[hEYU~Nf2NceP7kck'.4ƞv qsy@k{fXeOAS\D :ܽktҰ&>.vW񿵗@pKN֊_fEBG3{ ( ®<]e4TQkW{9xa>ָ@z:(n?ӐK҃NwVY1Yq/t*J[}hk$T//s˧4[O暚L3qcr@jղijfm֣+C(( ɧMMgnQ3 LgoޣᶽPU~L dV7!CO}g5z[I]g4RMS o2so}J]/F-4{ I%K.:χI#rJ@^бTYS^)Qp:5'x}fџ^4 8Oh[Rwojwsw@Cl3,Z_jҞY멟yxo޲t77_vO{[怏к֒tilUtJ Z\Daz_Afw\d4Nձ-tLsHPP7 8Mk>j}?B{]-_`b KK#ѷY%wQOUœ|C˦t.mljWsrbFŲ_ 8Ce՜:ԴH(pkTv{rY5GV4mƧ+= + d+L-Ch\)cA4gvWmM3tPHNK2Zy3@{޼q4.>l'Z"ָuo6~ZI^,ѕ2U~䀽\%⎏~9:~OjY)>u:fO.>oeWEWQSp?e(a5[պCpp/kZ~k,p;9MzX(+dT*=-sO!+uӗ/t>W[o6ѽkg*CkNԗ]%yYC_=XjJG45쒀lN%w CSl:co3O '4^8o4wM)as=sx]N>._ýIq0:GSkMP,CO\u厐RQ1cFK E\c֚R`V+p9]4۴k:{l{TjY"rN^OZcx{sy+-֩ag\N֖y3MO's'׭|3cK[؜~gcm\TѺh޵o M٪)wF󽁹P-4̴j[ 3+Ee++9cXmtҚ˦kPݢtW c>'8/uLWXif_4 MjjyռanPq'Tjz.ڏ%}-i<ܸi,mŠ:kPi=I%R.N$|P[[ _U'w%$i\|vWrlmgBڪR@ LBi_1=M !x2iktO6G/RhMgeF'3X>,&ֵJ&ic1o/7ϛ çTdvzۥƤJ*wM4h$.l:7Wjl14vsAGF 99֊պo^Jj)v^FmtCRyds* " "ѿn6-`sY^y@Jc@M)bkuS2Gb²Lo䦪=xc^* \@M]+X2frw߭ !Լ`kW-l~<Y]A3/vgWi^ Zz[n˜sSsKBUU}7Xjd޴;j6kw]F{L8î)/OW-ۇV=c?c@~QO> vO 9Y?z=횦Oapr>[C=Jv7:^+unT]ECn'ub^,q2zvk=6ME[W|?GΚqn|BYkY[~Եoe8s1{U&be}={ht͢C?/ߤN%8yjд:Oܯu4 ?h\Or5=X=\>i+ew 5TM4}hj྇{s-T3.Oyg5E'xG{/Wu55S^n.䕌{=|P_cCk0W]ot4i.3T>wr;npOv} v._yiG%]u=;߷>5nkC9~8U4[î= YWqMG:f[ZpZk- Gc|W*u5M6^Ƌ<ۓō7Q_8{[5 MZWK)k&{}Zp및g״{fX3=vp#JCWxef}a|}{̀]wGSxMY[[+稞gs>W$%w-ӌ iT9ʘ[$ u*p6}8ʪpS 7;ݷM7>ۈcp\@'4UkogYn{ܼk ;sq+o@ϯMinŎCG;_Mlg{?,7OS5SȎqkd=׽l{q7T[>Y]jkZ[*&ǰ{C{M 8Fj8eіoimtUZ+V{]7r=~> c5щf}w%WxYs=ObFSAۅ}L{Ww/wtr!ϴ.;gY8ī^itտXNT#3Y_'EΤ.𴛝G7|G4?‧ě?h=C۴MTƠH4iho#=/<,w? ?dl(#km 5E@YxMZsqK=;w}_@a_GwUogTvihKx{?sPJU}$UUtWnhmi|q#KR'ᎅ\}i ~x@5|ݧtͿA^sWG42Js\=qVt 5mm%}T+۟p4dž4t=g UoAS}ceD}Ӝ,Զ-f; @'* m?r?3@k hۛ˾L;Zɻڞ_% ⤎_񦮝ឃ޹Kr3 3zs4Ex8*Ğ#jjm#j->T;­k{([:cATA~+]͠pϰi3"i}OS[OiPQ2i{?܏ֶ0[.!_.Z]Xn21vF;2krL駙H|ʢ" " .lˏg_rm Jn]Q-1cbk@f-<;F1jA11ZvE3g?+?H7>#uoJ]roG Lφ5-:x?«E=k. ͸>V4޷Mo m{3ji/ ?~k)$}O3 |0ڷ3TشWb +1J=xc.r8o+4% :: t3\l3sx:5_"bCx$>w5} slнaۇPj=PڵX⾮GIY B g+l[/}YyaG+aoYm@s]ݤ]k/P]4=5̎^2 P8s#)pZsmtQciݗslkN]~ qlV1m{kpWqw{f*K鈄,iHrw4 -K?E=|6i6[j=.S%|/uc=FWvS/М(ۨu;=Yay9k99n?f fMG.\qw݆GLgƱ>?;i^n[m[$3`8xǞ ~;9p"TYaԯW;d,|,k+5-ƽhYgҴ:H(io|1~x@DsWe_5|Ue,Ԍs [߻=Os=O3u_[s{K_~ yXpCMէz>oв@ƺ7٩ڣ]>7Dj:6݌7;T+ƞPbZŻSkQ8գxߤcE^aeXuK#kbx ;,Dp7)륲[4tP2i\ܞ Sn۾gh n+]of~m3ytv*8/!hؙC ]#|/ 1g 른7ˌt_u֝nM=z}j;Gg(xoQ.Ri*w6cy35x8onV.jn#VPSԺQw~:W5>N*P\3Ւxh-0׉_+G{_h?njkj=ƃK6(a5xݤuu:{kƾ%Z"?9i v> 4%%t4|>Lˑ7=܃D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@D@jMGinVZ(psA}{ vùbYp)M{ja=)LaZN۪M8Q1a?FhY3˜ 4kE}mD~()SR nF/ot{vI#pa/w+|X3h=QUt}-ﯞ'ז{ZZjm1>!;O%tSԺm( e<]͋&:IzַM#CKKhUܩ}Grq 2[ hkv})rcd{.0>XM+wc \(OtRMu{tSm\vIU٩?=c~ǸVNY/Q_k^,駦{! {> q-oWWxuNZ[Ǐ~rgo#5Z=jqT*[W-METs~Cg7}oAt,dA}KVZ$ӽչ}wrem5tUmT +j\yLS?V> ^(h{nSy̍4Rs7{bǀs54l.6**vhM96r7="U G^YMPf܌Lcb:svڻ= WT{dzwQWy`s2ݶƴ>6W~+0hn0mm.?K `ctFjIʚ\d|R>Ŀ8 rf!-6:Lcnkءմ}u<,Ȕ+-,h#nB'e3_Cȱ_2۷-:CWvßL9#XQuJcEg Xd5|n<=Q[mz2Q[zYug! #{_:hObyEG?j$Fcu3]"}gUS_q)M=(#K߶/C|r<MA~QMjǕ^.ϯ m!Q[#}/I~ 1Ke^$!Gރr&X@U\13 37T^R5w׳Y^ۻKgΛE\`f1T»2D;lK"8ߧx $e\nELI7 f 1v9 ?ҠO)O7^|Ee["L3Xs%}=DbxLx_;6bjf*4a,;.xSN9 j IYRt#@{Ft;/y2~Q\-0> β|Jg#хx-C-l1[CNAqr\S5 4JdRAf&h#u5PkF,~*[RLmZ&-Ĭ^m+<_v41MaQ*ɦSڹ@LŔš듘 =mZA.~sF(""Z}` ,lwAF5s>\im+)ER G'p 7:Zv3 T #dzd^ #a.O. n&-.TGhg7qYo|z0uR/i\b|]s^!xd"`rc#n҃ \07:} |&oXn{ķDHӿcsuP f(ic'l0{J 8 _4)`0aPr.)%ΰBuhl/($wvW @*DGrbo&A 껭8M|ܫ%vIJ|ҸGXۻD!~l*VOЩ 7}VaqoŽ/ė$xhѶ:Ti[[I֗~R~9 m؋Tfg_gx2Kk(J (U]HKV)YŮ~U8:D}q|.4csfF[1 %0Sꝉ[;\Ls$Dl0ȥy,q꣇eC=µK9XM= d5əԑ^p r?P_n虻le'OHEA$4Q Zo2ݒd)]i?hӺcUBoi gC}E 1LQ66v.Ҏv ygS3~asܞ07V(?`}L!U^EllBc xT%X+ps!vt 6ӽ%D ζfRf⦷2L4/ 0S$ZjR\84x}E9~0n)TLa\/ %|%00>Ď,,'ӦMl$XV]'&鋪Gr6k[畃ݓj<t%m65K'V ]o% E5)d]h&K Iuwt"&^To9:nЯdWH`p&E7 Lyͯ*lfp1с|urm1b_HN< n[~]!ؐ3pjiQ{1/$) 5T:<`Qzpoj ,.'85fitದI*i8g5lKs.wN/$}y2ޣGW.p,+E@?Ն K4EYvO pZh̢$ː7iռ<:>&)S=46X#L]ie2n=s[@=7:H[ngsTZ~Qx;ZإC&Km g:<DY2[W$e&A1e1^đ+) &o&K̬#" !2=(^}q҅Sk-T}t8x3¸1KoˢmsW]+h^Ď%m c5\@UP!L!_gIcqSTa[ B*$48+! +DxHr_cR4'I.sb^`xD%:9 pP=0pv4m_Q"HeUp5,aU)6FEXRhCp5{JL ˝%,SQgzA% 7zŨ>]>5)}=h.L-ĪP]zVMF!(t!'96V +SEv@7AJ2R{1Qc6b<>h<)ge·o֌EOӞN(Y8' *P},MEX̷(SSX95qʦdeceBw>2;5IjT";!)p1?@41*t)9@bV {U?SZB[^VWgSl;k"pd\7i\5]0ʽ$Yg'yvi IbB7'+w]ɖNҠ+r?[MBӿ1)F%qqFwН:z6mi3[O\ldMv|iN;wP8yhƜ|tbFp\ Yd,XlA>dJ<(w2{חz[wjyXz%0۟qNO^:?v ؄_G2mF>CeON2jK&-/vp>/rQnM!>(6]`OKF&PPWu{ޛp3uuvh ~+c#SĞTIRνS6ӇfSJ1uwIVѾO9g^4Y8=hZ/m׵yL|JJl%`)#^9evD'_2vVFj'ݎl `fDn\5Q|&#,=~| j,JYdmHb ]OqQZ'<%^z}+as=~iQ8Jx,Dʅ6|fX_/sW浝'9>>fvNOki0*`ef:;Ɔ $u`22H{o ӬwNiXyp蹋if R՛dQj w2%Z,GTqkY'f{zUTԀdk"<|DYRΡLuP33Όbykn\lZ"IF9=;O_{͛- !jɮ`˱j0xLL,qI~sCkFfa,o"~љ~,# 6[ 9`!ξ\SRDAMM }C]0RE4Lw3d9lF/nhw\8V dH1_:F2'&6!I>0iޑHTJYv2:/T5Z!( #[EIm_⚵mq:ڞy9Pf?2$P 3 EwOVA8fsd[v:KOU65)GnxHFgؔewm7]"y~9Ue`CT?ghW~xwf=!Wҋa忉W)OSp:K`YYaJ<- 6IZێ}q7Ľ̘b\PRc=NNt]Q?j9x(Ymm ͅrM53c-Kz,)c!Zk{(daO\/[+(vI p%*nS%{) 0T4dCw;#\@<ʃ*! #i NCѾg18 ]BrcMR % Zb<,2g׮;Hi³ iر=,BoTZ^u +Bd܇0O=+&V%sP\8-uƧ*pb2Dh ,לLGa_돍#d^ 8!?{IKc- A knz~G_m(IztIC l/Q_řCA/|8+%8b&9Ѿ ? YnD()"KE=_ni(._+KӻP׺\}(R}3 ˖CW4IGR6KXKC!He#Aj]sO4A #a:-:Б`pkjªwGgTCغnJ+eombksH/R'Hrgf=+du)p4@Et Ƿ'i5C>EiF3΍vms~!]4p-]G~$f 'aEAFgG݆7 Ҍ2eq3QxxqɎ┈v]T_}/9$gG(Yml<߈W R2>)B[KTT916{ڷE޶}=۪l'> bGZO]~5wQ>K!*,'#"n |vN8qph . \`&!dHHbX|UPٱ݇Bxۉo vL`NjeOiNޔX1r`f٩ӯd׼j'[:{h GU^pi y|=v|NYv"]Y h ^}#~6mhd_ &96pиDjSUEEXaR/Q&cؒLβu'wB0/7b))\~ޟD!/g7|I-5`M0[lɜհ!cXfEO+(AILR 43_207 9n"Cy/rĝB\!2=F6mZ|֧BʳUtMx0*npoi(ʮ 8uyj*2p F[TV Q7X있PZ<vV#hW+:yl:;q.::&.61el>6KIXo}W>mֈ |B&jmB7g60pr9NFaAO MS.ܚ]}/Be-ɯz=+fEzkNRPdz<'6JڔoU'?~^%Ze?;,7=Q:?ox'| y`84쪼]:x`. ղB^a4yoA\"2YoԈhGXuUQ t~~3ˢ's.8B&WMEZ"~V"hɨ4'(H2/$c玻qLJ}2GSkgbaE":/VѤF?R(/ %,R|g=lǕg{cZ@,OnD8U+t}ʺW$%rs%N' ImYW@aDbvhɗV_3P%OKRY|q_ҕXdDt'BM!,dbLyZyza`&*O'AD"__ AweP]Ӝt{c鴠K٧P;Bf7[=kwV5zuG,7\~: CJ?w6Ꭹ)\X҆}(0]Ghͺ,Tcث`-4QjfxT+GQ֓-Vy@J"a+ sE%:4WW:o̱AcNH^/QW (Z=0* -8 wBS٫ te/ n]{4~#<Ov<‚̲T!>Ϡ+!9MרK.S;?v;ɲ#O$ yA^QxD9W"Mް&))EQW3زs10#Eg]:{ƪ<+f]$gug.=D`LEIP@E<)nQbL5\6k6;`R$MjPBÎ]o$LFEeS)0KkϝƲSɰ(<݄)+&[OX苗pK47 J,y)h9˦cRBK_c<VS$#SBlYeP_C΅>q^6T#dmm tG{SA!I<owiCj<.?[0ʒ8 (9]Tu!V||ZmA3Õd`WW%0[Ц WW+lu.׷_֓!Aⰻ}G\"٢{0{jC)H"FX0ךm/Bfץ QNXJkS£2 <_ʾfa]^ ޾6Y r f\&mBJ+= Y:qlg,a]a?ﭬ,x J1] -z.P[Ȏ51O> o=&a%#'bp{g,>Sn'No?<_;%قo򙆗ٳRt'a; ȋ؄j2j/O_Z{ĺz,}i}3ΖH 9r8+~0/ݺp;R&gߏ'qB$Z^e)\){Fk8v0&-_\N j/xY ISq }Ԫ`Ē'lRp *]"{fh S ܗ\?zT-tYW!@x,?] 2 |FAh@"e-%}$Pݏ4Lr3ꕺ͹>`;EdvC `&@# zz]z>'%{+}Ud94\GqK`7 9Pjf3|B!KhUv4eB1&=G匲OTHlJO>vef')#ŎYK7S7x+E_ίc>x, ל;k8؝Q'nGTnNa€Q70YDA 3I0Ⱥ|6$gVR{g;kS|۵;8>  W/[eFEmTTV{k7zk3mEp7Py#l]|'p4I0v{6y/hO8"V2S*m1u/ђcSC>a"&XqVKF590֖1SOP==63y_ 5ߜ؝JE[u HLyUAw:7,Yf_V ?BjL$-jtD؋鞦yL i"j4 `[rڙ$з.jZZ R 7f]Q<Ȏß2! +2ؽʧt5]}C4/'۬U! b nBp!9-VOc?zQ@,u~0dF! (^hFKݓyzZ{6bYuyxn9;"5& Rfq)pFR7V+g d۱[aI ng{(8^IEPp-FKZ`;V\Mڕ]J? b>e UT 0_#Cr:e}>fevI=*+ ,?26dWZ(5W/roY0P˭hrTo:I&L uö$|Uط\J'jEĩ o!㳷XEj!N9[W&fg$e?Lt?H˅j"fOFJlS/q%۷A~KHt(pU1 ;cBe7kG?}Nnqܓ0#jЮXRaC9Ko u6(ANЅ\lB-/"MI`͙Q`cp\:;hJ`eXne5(!@ͯ Y$m; 6ߨ5]W;ba{O-l5e!ׂO;f#zl&j{}4{NB';t34/  U!ZJ5%Bh&,cPt:.rQ2Rȳ%FYK5=adB$M2ζ;vJ'`:㭡z^{7 vԤWp=zרA/xMɬZJpQQH#=2#MYtF],+bɚ+=vXǠ!H"01"5bN}uA1.L^)D@"GHIAHDQ!O=ѷ &կsFk F樜H8T7ÓrҰ:WJ5v !r$7!b>${.(]B"2Y\Yҟ>q̰6 x.oR@@U1b`+LZlѓ=o[$s|Pan0݇ϓ&$XBo"a\g+` kBL&9<4y2ӿ!hɁՃ"tH=|8[5[_7"q<^_Қ,]W͕aD؜\T ՌΆ76ޅ1In5TCZrpԢk3W-u8g[˛mTG(跮b؛WAY؀o>s9GFٙۃ^jq(vIl*#ZّúKHGHZe闂f!;-|x|SK=Eih2]o͢:̶5HW~g-iV< dsp_:83RuE1=ֽ0I{QPAR4L>R_6uqu B)T(#[/@dQā4ԺSIQ1q[Ȝ:u8 wo8F,K.;1$έv3 $ G;0hBP]lB\pzTr<) Y-#kC^oXQKN~d$m; |A%?Izǂ)J쒦uXe5NK 1j@wyLci܀=!c@tF2HY27RD8i"8~.%LgI0=8{V|z}m5DYQJW7@+-V5#NNj@4^hT>#!HSy yZg E2PWR>C$lx79"tͼ n@K?EttxF,J(.ӟKl;r@zH3Y"9GU:D(N;uIȾ`t;O?vM!gixGy5# Iik}hxMPi<޵)ևs?Zk&sH3PW[27zbvqɺZY E$hD ~Pg)8Xs.K+bw2Ł:( مE6M~CY֊c%R]թ$&Wo@,ڷu-^ɻ(yMDofDDc[35_eOH!6CKWҿ~홞ӝ4h|/q& L3Q~@& u6ԮC8i<ҋF3-<=ƃ@юݞ1/ub.Tmx.a5y)MhR[uJE(J ; >K_xְ&S9.]|E{EYXn/Gȭ֝}R$bK35eVrBP3j`ıFsКgofO e8K4UeY~x! %e2WnT [zE^(pr_! a}3"@$U?=(cĜ"pE{FvrAP<%Ū/eK<ߖgI`󪧝v䛊xMC S;_B@k@$yM=<C)fg7ۻD!ΣEZ4FZ/?oi΀nc{<إkb@aS(k5c BrIyj*vR3#`9Gm%A'W / 'oT}a(I7Hȯ:L$hmӧ#SmCfyZdM&85!_JYTAUz ij?~y ^5 _TQ5H^G3?z8\n.t u]zX|p2*7/f7dωBiyJ;x_&'zJb-;yWszQIO?lOdA- 㷈fTLvQZE#V3TSߴ@ d}6m =55a5I& [ pq @϶7-eJD-,h.rHn591nƯW*Mwumg}d~ izDI$<..us!߯r5i YG L ym%ZʺhGkbhݘ>IAgWJDBC0Kdz쓵>O_iDo]NojQ 騶Ic KSjtpQ='DKj/ơ$:fYcR=A}1>/gL'9V EcN.vhf^EYߘ"R_e9ͫ*SK(wf1ƣ췟Ec FC:UR*oЉ.G^ˈ⣯{H=eެ%똿B{XzfB88skGOb6(:A|EŒA etD=ݬ^L Z?F@.†I YH>m&0<%syE!YSXצoLU.k{0uwJx ]t8i@8u2;O``9>+گ+\1 Kb`w߅40jg I- ?G>e yi,`$*֡PQu M΍LǜUwzLwo?ϑ OY 41Uy |}'`q=,ڵSg.OGNZ6P/~GyB5𱀐WO)4"y&3' _Y QYof,] ylǃ|~y:NJ5湶 Rk afa |VsaxkG@*@/b53:U0fӗfSF0x :/9@PI%;d5VW!5EHYd`޶GE,X'5xEDpf2ivL /& m,*Pҳ 4 c wHїz!JtNn9pg_p"&ql%܂9.V ݶsČ(;]a@p ;(aq;:b-gUgsHSw3[1TOްkUH69g0'Yoe5%/AU'5X$K0x07[Y U vPhA8ؑv?"![#'GG9'%d"-޽v\o8mM-:>wլrr ryI]ZP<`ާXW#8C[1`>Y:pqD"@-ID핇:VVy/wmGg}nl5UL=b, P 1 :`v7ӹָɭ^n+Sϰ% o!BN  oZK˸=lig mK2Y Uܰ@o7T`q1ǹV O 1&^#"`ѷ eYdw o7(oh>Fܥ"3]Wls4$tP J WLH&j%0kgcY&~dhYůw>^? nfDg鵝զ/SL?2Y Lf'd_Ib/PшwDx/aDǸ5t3x)oT]HCAT$S ?Dxl뭄˳Y6U:֔Ѫ3;ب3h5 KViC G5Y_8\08n ()d.N+)L:ЧMZ82!շ "n"  ~Uq\AebltgH{Z},4t2l7ۢGpJҶ!0IJ)QXy",qBv|F!ڹ?"XR;Hq3VTn WIQu-Nf{hj̧&T$eFo 9F]Dd(qDbaSjӏ<5ƶAcnFŖcR͝ :ܡ׫d'.He2%d"[Kk8t6M  0rD@"'vΫw<`Eyf[/( t"S(Yb3xD%q MFGr& dpiiq#5P\-q>dĕ .yXLV! [Ĝ\s?Hս\ɯNR+DjHeYD=hI!oDJ{E8X$!s1w 3_~ -;Ƭ岖d @.T89n\ڍasŮX-xIۤJIlߜ6/с'6.g6~Iev@'?'+oᛳI?6N'u!92ڵZ$h.{!#84sJeQ4Vgh8)F{5iΡq݆n"qx]1wĺqOuQ4Yn)rp7m}dPUia.cM1V1˪y l &\KqVGR3gʱZxg xQ(z qkgfA->#ѕ! 'mt48 (wD+5*Ms|P'^^:m hr5nBbQ⮟OB\|^#nYNZQó۾nXKz+D/oE^IMWѢ`"49"jKpf#@~b< (Nk6:Nl5i2`XǜtM!f6cXaLa9O&OXIbS}/YvۘYtfJN HdN|.wUS{AP\A3a&l)[!G4v[Lq"|H`a!&q0O$yJT~(o[WܣKPͼ 9Sd2|fzrPnwTT>{e2lGgfKUw/`ڙ[JXJ0Iz^GOڤx@w |=nVeESKbϗ{Ed6jw悃 [pmJ`UXme>z9+oO C]6}x:=> ֵρ\>%a)F{ᐄ!v~6Nyj&>D̦^]ᗟ sn)i#}M톎ruU˅ uDenJ'JM:B~y@xeDžvLiy˜ub8ܘ e/44S.{ {a27- Zz4 {L *{nbk]aiW){H2yxCxlGȚ~URj)|0e׎3ܻ @ښk۶_>Z;@L΋<ad'y,@N`~ #m`)OTeh(CC."M}渭9: (ỳt#zPD%Ɯm}!﹎ͱcɈ < WH ?fQ{ވ%ML.eJCtvU(ARSJi*5\ʖO@ZybR|ZIsQW'aK9Ӣ?~~!hd7!9EH4"q#|SFgg@yײ5e$6wo;8o5.C|gIHϱ1:`Κ;C6u-F7& s.ZB)\sK+:ꯆ:HkdҶYs;ỷ3F5lWD({Nz lΥ=ۗxM0>kӵ ){|de' + K))q+`;XNO ;;-Tu@53V:,^E =Ia$Sxc0\ݒDgPͧ6dǜ)SԌXiުB& lF'.on ޔzt:!/®mÉ40\6ۂ/% 9>z)ZC{bfDQ H\fk tKY \GOV=rA\mP"Pe9E k4"Ua^LbG_Y]"woB&N]ԎiE_.iPƳ9Im;ɴzfBצ+W2UA*V^}ˡ,4+2};󦖸$t]\G5 Z&0_2cC p/vOV&-}5kL _dϤ1+T9i@GIaR|;)&>j ǔ̱Hpxrh鎜,C-8"AIM1-#+SP'+Ƿ4uVe+:(HCH/؁˦*'iB=H3TbrYxrCj0{lxC&ݪTj5xxG8G)+zՊ[u9}$iAZW()5瞲^tK!/8/D vz>oԗ/ /?#y#s!ȕ0V]vg9nUb;zs2}(6NB$v IE0RQd@tUuPoU2$#9]&h:r=v!P_?t@%ok$эlN$DH_b2yxo0J_pp [&uJFO'"t;(@~l=6RDY0K"H6|l#I:Pt i&>}:uʁ)VRj.,͠晁'=4?hU!&rrw+Rjv?ŲAΦ _aWDF &3.ȮČ)j0kY}$YC#uC/6Qs+/-JM#"_[1w)+JisfH涾><nBJ!bϑՕ $-9AIX/)˸pہf`Id뜭>Q;dxl:H 3X$<э$.*HTȇRocyReZ0V!H&zj7HeWH'e3uec Gڏ'dH!szyioXռ /܃&c󵵔+m1&‰sH6y34/\\á^21@zSM9؞/K RʽQ2<ɗE8@lDғ6 G<RNȣ;4 d)6^Mu*6w]rF^^..83\+9-%ax(Jl{ qCs|f ~ԀM-ү8uk2咶SVs)pzTA*HKk1Fd(zb7G ;vGdFx:zJ .Y__hs;Oz6{֕d{ juyz[ 6 FT I3mʪI'ԥ7jBV-W! Y: rLj1Y@W(uvbMzEIUcUliM+IQƍ]$P"=φ>ԗ-G;ؤ#)o2'dr³{ڦ.a2f̛M8hX4`BJƓɻpT^6Y|?U IP-6 ҝ=,iKP󦆍e#q.1n; œ t\m'ZPi@Z:xp mn}~~F^VhSM\.T~Qm<J-i'p=S]MH-,fg{í[$BiKժR7c=kƷs9 .uUX’P`XɽeX0akau|9ìٽWB|?LH9VqeL˛“>!)|%:|p&ي˪n+6!ݪh5߹NqM|Tjf&ViOr A)+?21CpC- b?=_GC#79O­Y:ߦuD:01#ʗJPH4gMwv:9iFw5dlM Gol8Gx% _esG C\op^-fսy;%-69Iyip-~ OQwY c>xAIRg';ZW6nhլ_M0F'6o]bƼƜrN{YL.I8[,ㆦ<^oAK">MĔKN"V C)js_BDRy6Yt,q׈n]<\Hl-x8JWp{U1+3+@."vϧIL*gL\Fix(joNBKkebϼ5_o>oin=\i&s0<@C mo^)C8:qp z-#ŎVqe y%ط\&u:My3w:&?z KynvxfA]d4 ܾ)rZ%ܦׯ-J#Qa9gcr_}X̒_zYދ+GVj@^+2r4SȤROg-̣ iAb~uڌ;V#J⤼Wϡ9;z4.'БF:&`1fd4\Mޕp.B70mUaD"cbNd=cEI_#c":"mBx ?M:7yQ(%'')h"l|>.qkݪ-2ޱEgm6hYTaCc j(!K/4L'RGɨowGc5nb+*ݵ./کn Υ^xJ@ET'h8Qx7] /osF#B=4њ8=Þ+B/5);-HÁ` GQ Hey}, yJB3;y묦Mk= V; VjTﲦ5ߝt+{ K1olچ(>)mj#h~,- qnE ˿!Ԕ jnWS7l'n3K)eLd5x1[%PU ) <ʈ x3UޣNanڄ{)r↩ieRYgn7)>ZoƌG^\o9Nt9ߚX [km0 pw+Vay3B@X/tc%E.Cg'Φ-I ?C2W-AD}E[>B}lU玪lJ!0G0a =%8atSx3Q>QV?‚+!O.F!#GCY>]OWo o( [l%@1BtyY|^9ôoN. !+vۍ=e8hD^3uփ.H#*o^^7sȶQ0Xt,3w;qh} Uq:J+zF{OȨ:ihIy=!?qhQHF%FvҬ!ߓ[+|wUl4 2@#0—K(:ߞcN_n:Ho֥qگqfQ4`dT`AibCynFGK~LNHP47Hěyjrdb}nN6'#;—= f< K-dV>$ oCGǮkX R7p_?μ+lt#sF_]4z(εY{ɛELr`("JȭBЁ2t{'ISU6Ib:6I4T`[C!6^Rzq&RGd Z9D=cIzwd=\5 4嵖U ohKfUOB<%x <3zB gpzXP5Y TŤN8RVw&Hv@'ceQh!I;W>Vk`#3^:ͮ?Tb.j3u}zKTf!N8囹[zwSAF` $7`x}p++وQ W #Z|ҧ)[0ɬ';#tEmin|bHS,?AQ0Cyp*q.g]忧D@|-čs挞!-U>NGI١ ?[q#@B΂C|eS4;vnBVE:]Cxg=+bl0Í Uo>тU8;rTFϩ뱴`t5eN$ ZKl~rux=e0b8fxs(rpF-$W#P2v85#j*f`,X7qRjK\2aR5 9o]Z|G2q9=] d:E;aUQzVEJ52TYek$_K-~ Vu9'J$enJ>W G}$1bt.qB+6܇%fC32O mXQNkXb)gB1U1@Ųr ,C46cK;@`HiԍjX8XD8$=a^z(NהƉ0X^9"?Fx/H1~/_ow+w%/jg]*,U!bƚ*My_"lj< S}K^=2O*RvnhRABp~aA /1cӳGqGrGw H4+:0h$nbP0?p.<.oJz7}R|ϡp<l x([_SlҮ7sۆ|>ŮAzĖ_R|D%]&04oˏ#i-` OM'Jҩe#DY{E^„`}+g"Dw evh9葠EmHW)K hU-m)MlM9ss܏.lcs_Y? w~I.(eB~w4V&t#R$ V̅?;nlUH@ hAJ6$p0:FiN(q1<2 |o.~0/[K`W; P% Qq}\^~l>S۪M;szx^<#m6SƄ8* V I.u$ɓQ ]JFc3CFt `.MOu(wO8܏/ȯnW_;0y>9A~wk,~g F~KQ̳VQVmD~n1mMRȼ%%AD .*P9YuǃO@aO=SQ\I"uBvt`y}+W|p /1䶝z+<3JX~mrmapGV;] |Rƀ2#2z5J[DEa=gAۃ%%[li/pmfTjSǯO_{͓ɫ~ep:fk" ˾$5vէ$2]U2~ 27hՂǴ7GpN@Y.l3B@ꯇu~p\9 rf]ɘ';-?XaAA3@tYǪ 7X>c)E*Mكs"'Mj ɦ2N_%^=as1"ۣzL=\-!r%QWwn U}\4)ew%8u=PNƓk aZ?8}Hɴ >ꍾX$HhXQIRU#~_&ЈZo!6o(,JS:ƼOMq]hلT 5f`m>{}.Aj=a =0'PxF&qDE +MJpe+v6zqǽ3W 3Sgl LNjPb,@tۤrގkLst,@τX5񺈇ᓟ5a뜋 ⡡/LHxf$ CaLl5-/ v84D#(_ikO\!4ZNRZ1F+o J6_@bȏgY*gK?/>ʖL*Wߙ}ݝGG5J@)>{#ӏ;δuƷC"(,(ϩGmqp"g.ރy]qmqXA/R  r%EQ:oƦu=4dNCUiCW`Q6 zdu],J(M$$@NsveV2}+?xݑm:⻪|<^]tUज-_@(Ifz0oQѐLޓfU"kc_KRˏ̠-ʿU#UƢ[L 7`fy*HZ]"kCf*PvWim䚚9P6D{.~KJE" L`6DdaFgіKLމ7 C=cqfە}ϼ㯼`)~{*e2כ954Ή8fSw&CZ/h[$m~reJxjXc{cjuqejTgЮr]#H6f!*4CѕFS:34H? \) meELġv#.{j,8鵝;ό=,eZf!6D9ȌW,|nCDqn%3;ZCcq 뷒 q,7QtѓF!ֱj8YWKߜf4@t,qnB^y"PEBD*xD2WbƱ;CӢdkBS'Apd횘{/BzG<3G>a J'2 zQ>[63E+{Y.>3EņqPMBhIbFF:ة'YpQ[Pǧ"2_t9e=8BQE~| 36ALω:XJI5́L\J!D$:a*{YK1Wjx]ezLY>wtQ"1)V4G JV{7`@lڶZR: l|[DmsF-Cd-3yX_ye2i3I()GE/SBXz4pc8@^yqX. %ʻe7NmhVwWyQg2$ŧH9AJ.z T_ĜGD YEk}D_޻Bº}~|kUQ!(Unuuy^e2^ZLEk^|yP3`qxoF'Ɓg?yM5Vء2='/jJ:9 ~ԾSdXn3^19DCAD>R$[Vۺ8Gk8;^"GNY\_{P#Xہ = Z۞ WɌ2r+RnGs_Lc>}!/FE[Ufi G@d,enHl,񀟐b;4%{ڡLA9Z]Ƒ%\Dw$m>eݶ g4 ;4z>%DQʅ/5GwT '# q5}G kQQխ(=q({3S|INd> yTtl\AMDX|u* z 6fuL'!m}ori[-𝉉`&iLpl s +g3Ms$EdϣZǾeK/<,;!B=N|iakt{DΧ6="H}h8tQZUw̒R@ZVʘ(7/z #p׏gGV-NЖPT {A6j/SsYq`fj10=cL}DZ#tAkDM?TF{<W]~]>vE.&%WV+RCښܘp41Il00ee;._SJ/vƬ#HmJ])͸Di0?ؖ6]/%푏)M|)3g2S2MeuBȩ$~&Ȅ"5\s#Z>)Y%J]AKH ܫy݄]]zU.QWX-gef( Ȳ MS}~v:,\mSua[@+ʁɰ: B^dFJNy8j̻G=R*(B!*w%M/T,?nG9S9Ho~ dObc=((݆Un/nf2 6MMB֘ |Hh_ܧdW/]Ā(q[]>orI:qlq<ץFZn8y.T*P%hSuݤa|x{ی\9]NUK}]whd K/d0A"yV#/z7fޟhnypkQz!/ҭH2I.O;1k_A`EUr0Mʻ!Z6vd> X4F!1 h3cr|I7WwpzDŽ6U! x 8L%ʹSw/2YAjrg7KnƖQMbcFs&'{.!l{(s;"l-+< &?2oV˜4cs/˨H C#U J d]9 |4KBc9g?:H9ͬ{hrnu'D3 ZBjrf53((mR =$,oL~>Zr0S v.Ĩ;MW!r> _|Hb8a+:Oݘ < R|=G]+NxMD)OJ d?Y3(^Z3Q+ HhN=hԗH {:r-wRdgD}0 Èe@W 97(.,:$9)V$r*U 獱lq lF" qWu䆨p=)yysRvTB4sN ;cw (hv">H |L7FbMϝ}2?mSZ 舘ĚF`'jN.6YK{VOD 'y:Mqj0^-~AYs7vuv|@@x ?XTJ{ְkM=0XrT/x JQzyqcǹGTKt2%{>B3'5\`cGcNB+Y3z܏B*FX۔^aT_,LD=yDUV#QcFIN?ej2CCp98,=UhOϔz=D͊ZƄ ~?d''E!$I*_Ώ4 K% ^Y 3!, &c#ް%ajIw@ DvCN$Bm?(aAqh7OX_ +q½Ob&c ,TA#%2 s~m_~ة|fE ozvWFvkL'Yr 6)N Zzi]"q^RUa^Ad1"yñ!˻92c\x)DQ|XN`A<2Z$2gNu5BۃYEfrh)pX֞y9/c: j$ԫPG~!̿w}UvoO.-"yg.VKGV|@cy=>:]PrB敐jH:[l(8scyԊ -HS.JH~٪işQ,,:-͢9bRi1q~f^֞m j{6 .|.׶`H`#.DtA&]Ed2\`lڇsDoߠRn1( erhqR^LًHrA&O&:io74"s°h+2}s_xq D1)ύ{{.= "q{roK!Y A U3!Gu`(#u-^ ,.X ]8m$e~vvn7#^YkƏ]d$ C [yݿ4'Vf[9C{n&#ȠS,_ō6kW=6mQ`j|ç~͹*ZT^j8@K@3勜v -*[3G *i Cb깥\dW4Ubz&aC^.}SN\(fwq4Ϋ1B*k ܶb܃P47} : >[R+.ſQoTmml9^ LL\@XLo r{gSA3R,jy_L1e-jHmzy˶d{p{DP$yփ#Ɍ#l1` e{}7*H$fjɶomIQgPStn f7j4.o"A!! o7mp3A2=lUM/r#Sr*,Weiv7%U 0[X Hcm['I$mM@ޅ'h :4x"څ&<uY 3c0)0AȲMܝ͹ m\^QHln]zFbq> :E'd'^Tt2"T3Grj%< ޟүreep IBpġZ ?n!9.dW a I@{d47!P#^vrf!/W,phץJy)RF*+P+?e_ip6W{ LX|_{zuqx(VÏ`}ILA__sg0%]v;#XEBW Er]-N("Yq:xԘFíV2-ţAS'žmJ'.7LЦ*@I)10!FӰAją4Fܮ]sH;2 AE CRm1r?̄KYHj+&ׁ.t.&0cb_77c{x8~ &58yv[ZP@*nf VYI95Ϟpa Bp@:nۣ*Tz+@pNޠқ-&FY;͖#f=s".,R,] O-c6&| )~:&ύ @61R/]zvQJ-<5Ƴ=4h|,)A}Iq !,4G4r9`@S.@ )9 *^Jeeܳ/kɆ;y`:v;Q :YU$z2] U ho;NPj7O lvP*E g,T S9vHo3 4^. ^,Ǭt|K{ C]Ru 3;{h9HaDv`㣂 2ֽQ@_awEDώڎ?&.Ij|>4 Կ_.f6n͙ =&}O^t{XzdHKYА s?ڹz?jdWT(MfE7F6e2|X[}oA 2IݣP#-{20I\=9>!x׵vyxDWiR■[!|l%3TjY-W 9DFi[] sh;c"_H߫3oՌV4_b_ ;@9=i].V7 0|;DL> ⹊ha:~Z:ˆݳ ) @L7aRlę5*t'whtb ?2U;OFCJ,<&EEC14/'4X[S}x=KRfA8*$ҝb 7xX,OS-IT~+녉(q )}3 [u]\ CT9w Qk7irr49!W`D aQ+.y Q ŁCsKrǹT6+EHwttNai⫴#ˋvK"_-TGp|3l~DL]4okN_N(prO i4⚛S~ru‡4ElR߷Ѽ9P${ (p8 wuRr5O Ufe[IDߟb\)g3Ǘv*Z[R]n>h] 8 buV׋(v= |[q%?l?>gmf5o8cXbæ]w'={5Tm>GOh1o1AEDL#4@ %~UY}!:)̷f̀J!*QSR ^Uv/2zFsQH%IW'oSp6bO&ssW< uLuoCv0`f^ 2{pڵ=MvJ{<>g[>H_B+9YL?8y"ٱ勱92%={,#poI|^m嘃aֲz}x`ƅlg(agynγR3M\)GNd?۽O AȠw8Xzc0&$NsalrHa> $neEhuE̫)ukDT}e=jty7ϲMG^>(H @Hmq!*]Aߚ@:YE݌ZZ߮5H'Lc9ThNDtTa(2v5ΰ3HW(b $۹?sh]26])oX2젝zU!RpʌR~z*IJ$ҘA- +EĹ ")lh/S&t܌(SoFeDkVFl[l+'r|i}\q=Fm){]A QJ$S#0Vw&XYgcº!׼ֻ4mD~1{u.CۨL8 D3tXC|`^C_tsK*Z_ Gey ֎`D V F 2 L6\0"Bη[K|Q QpH[N Ob# *J_3Y3$s|N5*gdD"+d3@㧃(^~1T?F^%l l5bbW#]cHgrOJZ6XD.nAvL )AJc@k* qZ zkZNT$ZҦ&X9axsMdٳX6tYfF?5, + 0@_|xw3QHZs! wQc׵.%UcAhWsBn|LB#;BFs6w [^jh2AJgnF5[n3/m>PaWu470/ɺSp=BFhiJ/~xnڞ{Cn吙qM UJ@ך89 *9^甫&w;;e-!-P0 Sȹ@?#/w kVX +m[eiyRےIU4`췄iRƿjY=JM(9Bnq<(y2r$@xSdCU%n$xĽw_Pω{A$'81KiDgJnDoy٢(V #HjDܑǬVYҽRi~Y_ `&dGamGg 1_#fKuyyo!yCNJYF 1ɄMaOP_\pDi?4%ےbLl% 'pQ(F"bcꠂY[/=vPmӶЌgF՗/uWX[6SJ8,GIجNKȭN{{q.rLlF].: 4 LLo ?UPZIY6?CN\!tARL9%{\&f!Mh'GSy mcVhᠤFh\x6 ^]UdX(G.>}j7՘4S1RyF8|J܉dia*K-KjtN^Z|7ǝc$H@zhxfFhDp\!VCP֭6G_Q(eb~ k$5]01 Pccq]ohQ`=lt]7ܡF4+_&&S2JB4坩i\Psܖ0\KMrKt񮪯&M2_k̓4tH}}5hVԶK<y*MCWIu%jrLՉZIc sDa?OTjGҼܔ[:CeF0>wK A+yPN}Fst Zf bSɒ~V[6:|T$1n$֭:Q@.Vk+N'6Gvʦ~Bր Ŕ*ˑiv?,o|Ⱥz_kN-$ gUbVPVˋؗm0Z[؝~LFC]!0bq)(TfXH錏p^X~·{9m2* qEޖIqp#:ݏi,0Vcyly]t+ M@MFX̥@NmߐduՄ#kf|yB1ɸmJ;œC .8C K\ Yhz&^ŗS~(x T83w?8<FHꢍzYՒ&f;z7.)׋Su+PFp-e&w,Jܴ`$N'_  ͕޳ 8(Tw9i?IJiX~e ߨap=)nڕ[*a 6y5M9s!L :SGb]UcvzP~?;}31-dG-pOgKa.N= JgNZCĨպL NeD*~Z"~9S0'Y6D~T RLm7gT^6 N-u"֙fpsu?e[2¹"͐a6Ξz3:ڀl":݁%pVeNK<}g8LE0ȡ׵E݆;K{;{PiܴÎL}Ό f'%sP ~*%!9}(W\OL nLukh]7ҀeO8d'܃C v9[_}K٨G[;oiǘ[Jl:W2H|5X1^JO(( *pMjcͷUU"gXlRC )Y؆GT4ƍtF pr/Olta5O PJ X rj"y1iYmb֛|HV8x7I2l3K.|մI #RsפLARC┋|HE=Sw|]ҝ1IjtC%L '&+GӞ z"qNU6~L0:u! ja>d P7Ub_çDT'1 ESRO0 w42\aPW VE _F!BGŗLz#(#J^;OzFOyq</:Dx;ՈngCi{L[bFS:}QYaOBHˡ-Jfipq,>-g}wLTMnl1!StQ8mYa^ٟbKWxݍm~VKOC]/2=H X0'ӝӬ1}AdN0+,M!iF߈~ٳ)ȸ9vƨD T+ c)V^&vL1(?TL"B0<'\(H88lwJ2U.@YQHOθhKfҢj%:xqOUsνn,Ƚ\Qܰes E%ɯ盾dCFM`]|)_X6yYc%)7rI/ψfun@ QA|s3`w=tSͿY~|<{{uP/:.I_3QnqrtIZf]=yE(Ӄϣ_rǾ@mJd;]bUj9Oe_j!@}? Pq $uTc(\ȭ/RH*qZ"%'eOaa0vʝÏ`ߨiw g(\'! ΂O G*ricNꢗI4/BCg.-э  ?W)pN);1B'5CdX|bIo7i=y)7_>Khͽg˄/ 2dsD,s½|H[6wdފ6IPαˑ3T3VslM| I:.y&K?2xsaW)!sӴv.a^zȒ"-ѴH^n'>߇I~ܰy##f"Ɋa\Ҷ%X%ZGq PCMj ЯgRK.yʥt~uH\^yV;ËY%xU.K/=ZA}!Tih߈JL5iƘMxa7;EJ`Dmk9!o?1;Ł95C|KU+H&q8]#Vs1R4Q,c[D\5b{{pG_׵ٚ̓z˕:(ov0j U]ƵgN6aY% Ͱhu\N~ɰӬU[7hѷu=<#8ܳ$ja8 Gm2?ۑL*=ˇ\5{{ SDɶp=- S&oȳ/d.gBt`d ;۴ze]h,:JF/uc-ۜ0g6.ki>ѶيQn( t>@&S 9/3zj:c; XWF t?+|*=v1R-o V<ͮesJx>aϘf9*^FY=&t, JÀ&m/p> I3&P>(m~{7؜>bz 5}Y  (f=mTT>сɲT㭋f6hVU< %=|U#HRAc_0ڗbGjcA$'6(28/RǑR-^Otsxe*`^𽵻,S!1)[y ̞Zx )$>1g +U'Esp2\_P"Ox≠ۘt=9cgY+e,Wg:ԪcNMJai\y^d~8Kx6&SH{}ѫŏ0gTxbR3du<pno|]фLLC`[ le!3m>3K4kq9D~@SlugCۣ/Tٛ9EunA!HmBx>)-PG%awB&"q Wg2>-5(=4a~ɦ!ҿ87lb֚ԤB5.J"G <{r8*Oҁvw< 9!%*cvb@jĻo]Tk4~j^FIgRÌCه_X`zb|:dvuro8 ^ModDNh?Muawa7td*o,_ ij|RL\*<1 þ[Ӑ7ɇ }#YT.Xh5GŠ7CQyij=4˧p U gBFlk73}!³O u6 5zqu[f@̌eN~4 1.jYݟRԉC̹aI]0 zBVռ͟u^}!h=KWձ> u?0thx25LeM4y#ljtuYI4:ߗ(PJ(עHcav1 72aGGD4Нz% T;La-xH=+Q;,;:Fʻ=TČuH/:4 pЎ@m<;6so o"%LJu׏|mYHuGry3\0}\Xh? Ą Vf6 !C^o%y9ɃSsACTXAfMǁ7 _Yvl,|AK=4.t2ھ$/Z_n(ahL\'x 9;NM^oy#|[)6fC9ń@^OB*X9F>okQ-J8o;)^惢s`n0XhJ3GZ%2&Y^E^g7A SQ`# W?g+_xClH _ ;u9u Lny,~޿(ֶ:UQ2BSgX&P&NɪŸtUBJWXquiv4Y$4~8]&Xl(l@z4sZjT\` {'&S[y ,<iJ_Ɂ)7;޲ D|GQgk_lo޴z=9?fx?}[)iyk_6x]~Xs~5+ 4': 2|G]`erEg۩7ocij8ԗ$>9MR9 }_bgtjS;z&;UPv(flESC:$]g j'Fci l%IY'נ:V^KJ{ dtCYq|"]dKпl,M%ڪ9&{g@~Jluį/WQX bq^MYW\f7;_ ؀/zrJ^Nn3XT8u(cy>:W J[BʛqHXg>`GlnőD ܂Ct1h[OGn/(~5e^YLr2{yЋzyH ⱙa_9Q`>\ JX{蜗)JLix²-;Iags0IɈ@4+)XzW4P : )i`W8wdn@D<0 .NRM,柨QAaXF-shwDF"1׊M+Cp UFdj<MjvџAU 7,dIp6xT}9-6jNFS )Qϫ" LŰ΃Wt$ S ødSjQ585eoEs[H\c!BH.uML`e} ھ-EJ0gV0x'׃Sml\‡;ڙQP$g_%c^ozWZ*Ċ6- 9R;0AƮm 6| 1Qj+;7#ؼ֍zs. Zpՙ4hQn HDy\b~y67RFP-|fV4WŒzto">.lh`9p,de9XNsOOBfD@&*Dar1'cI"ud04DSJ$Ϝ k^q}BF {:mi& L=M֪=JFē*Qkou ;BQLhyCN[^^ߑK8i2IfMt܂-LB֣e %6֊VW%Ũ9ԤD*;L}3h*d:|7>&VHF>WcQ+~c /@EW:@MXAqΜ#"s$Mݍ2EݶOp:V"nw :F=ҫbKФHVʟӏSHiiO ?Ho{Q$M')1JnR"tP^B4Fpqa@*I+!:AFAm4Ԇ+[k&>rVT&en/+n55hg3tsWoՀIQn8sxw݃;cevmc Tlpuq&H*ZvuE>L|θớjͣ+2"%nTiaj WdWt!,_vGK !`mDոX8bV>RXq]v8/ _<ˁM4UU['' wh{`7T"ޯ~Ǫ} .Ʃdl:Re`,8"spZw|"('hZ%P K 8}7mV;} v'@?XȜݒFO mp2jx[v8=:0HPyΝz#!lkE]i웒'@H̻x]Х४̛U_t%c*`41͙=('JteůjN@!j 7K䄙b{6qՏH<4[#%b^B8Y7? & Ă[$NdIfyEzGRWHu[K PXQ5l>CwdCAE拹P)bك́z" }-7ey[se N =®e]ؚ\[iaTX6 FM~Oxxfd1C-]ȬC=%`LŖOݠf.]*|'%CqʀnecLA$|؋7+aH)%J}`_:-/`5.mk+b,txz8^+ܼXbw[z3k]P7 ziQ[`5 CDed8+ Nݘgc""V$UX usx6< Wq js<҇ ³snK!бXv'fST(pr⾘($ٺM$glV[6Pr{n68❅_αB#aKe~ɢ˿kC*M\+py815ӉЍm[7'`^2+j=woJ\vHlRAjpWZz9L@g&_]Dqa+=<}2"aMdsrʻiʐz[< &"EpЃ)z*b& Ahq?/)زZLl!jhԯxSVAMWCunфز!@Qxb89[.--pIDm5ꗍc)lać5r\ed\{DqE#ϴ ,񣗢'Q=Cbgw<r;iR ObY"`i*{X a˗A/[ՆBVL`}ՓFXYO=Yc[D{9^bB) /dcdU"GǶ'IDA^â?ZR0ٴ8l0 Gu*h P H_C%uHlng6^yXEFb]O4c)G4]"IVT!30Q-2X5>5u- &WC5{XΒ}Rl!U#kE ToT_0Vc qrcM͚J:,ݖ*e;&<|θ9 *Ȇ鹺d^=b.+Q\xE, N\̡2SqFְ 24@Ij]dNEFbM 'nǁs?#JHh68':ُ*C׽xܗ8ij ._sxZNgȸ 8Cjf4o %;pyh :~~/cWxU֐%6v7l&+GGE3Zzz# iwDWy@Z26MJW=Bh{[iڳV˩`uz狷̢X=[Z6{݊xpXY!iBM8ˁ$c|֔h:D2ހ*|Gǂ#웶,ŏH/ 4(H*4k _r H8JLy c]Tf!ۛ8 iFXD a]Oث>WC7Acn<> N9vOƭ.NƀMWƷ"X9hHd^pc8D?䞾:wph}Nd gtXөx''~ PcF}{`ReqWsX8zt3|EЍXe;V ^ȔJGsLsg. ǼScpRXs3cgTe(G&TFQ>^A"ptcJ`왇⟖슊5UMffi8^ yYmW,*^&_tf~FGv]rqf>k%ɽ"D Nr*7`qϳl'{wD)[P=c>oXa+2IE0,Efe,&Ue9^X+Ws&L$cwEq"0mD>!B ejZ 阵p+HHyׁG CShH1n Y$K OkN[ZR`]/@Q#Eْ-GW[E27{@ÊK|s [σ/?<ґ1U ?h`TG%>eZ9@Ox{!HL/PtJ4/ }8!$Ѿ\_r8,):=^,Zd7g ,Bk c5U! %|12Wg'2ϠٖCmq)YQN25n."wjF#jǺ2mŐ%iNIcMn{Q9P7VӀ!'kg'4hiCg381;|r׽ѥ' '^*0No`b!.PcG3/jLfK+e¹zS>}F9bvA+9 b㉗rhm1fn4.oՈ-҉vpTr< .BH0H9SpaW:Kj美Rgu9Gȫ1' )vUlGZ%p!H u̓cj{7h̓5(:7O,EHIw1$o.&%8.E2`S/9L-)E4@Ik ,W[f) D>t4@a`b]:~]ə\0r4;'1i0>ͫhy 3)+ " a%s#{g|i2Yʅ#b'K=;W '‹Z O{ĹyE2#mkG ?uhEsV[nn"9-H{aֆ޳)/dDȹ]߈GSI$'Ǖ V2f ᕭ9@F̀l:f00TXZ-!m|wGhZt7C_xʜd0ɸxcR^hvP잋v.<~{lPHII1ECZ{)1_{[cEtq8~6 zє_IҺHX DfTjnD RS*(cԤUjkQ{g`BG`{EvRY<É$0<5=u6&8Mn#c*⇣-.gJ/`H e@\{Eݠcwᜟ5e[WG%Psh_QN~/B96LU"sXpʂUw}RTG>yT U]NYy R=fa:x+mO?3ãk[; cq]z5U@,CQ/@-|4.JX<&ީݜ hSPz䀑tv˞2C.4/>yI)))4:̋0~0׆Y+GI.ՉZ *ux\pO<%ƊES:#CgTPz9Q;[l4›'9brqZTk-w&$>zeO-| Xo/If %Gm?aq(T^40?͋eՠQ dzѹӱ#M ÔZ+mjڠhClK1ʴ.DG]+FZ${9.Cv??qNC}ٙ{£wSi2`WרlSU1MbqG9TX" @x73_{vpGjR(|[r@=*}  ӆ]6Jp% T]L/j"oʹjD.$f X[PGE=&񲽹[ kb Fjmk_iiN#c~¦:̓*gW 2c =fO3&(a$[)>6u@[!A ٳɷW_ yy cDOPtpa-s!q!_Ρ DWfc c pK;_LX'?PS{_lE٥QWTFꞍe-QhM/t*Mh0qE%О&)iGO-|`/ (SMrҨn$3"YK M""):gWя'9)d_)fݎA7nBo_#,:z%kbe g6u2$c TP,EU_B~@\,C*Jir? A' s,5K.mp$R$_석PZЩ!lHpwhK0(?.xZ/I_T_ #Kq^Y,qYBcV0CW2bb m k<-?JGWS~Rh:#v:\&>ML. Quc%sKLd y5rJ[©ڧbC,~*@Ms/|w73d@Õa[m׋h?g%t.qAakdX>.9L|DR=K4tof@MyS(y-6ƫ 4\}UyA2Mˬ\8BX` #6CzVuF?GN#.AERxwKB#g eH}o+̲&e`"Q&[ wB~._)o?~@*cn1DĂ9\ZƑz3һĄ6AͺA&0lbEC 5ftffޚl(D\#o^k-N./c򺍝M/}3&ժ5a`JTR8v%4M^Qh) %GD`HT1֢BNxږPB_!6̮1Yf(>8s^m|\OtwِµRΫ U;'B\G Q0&Ch&$b8beq+)Ǟya#WN(Z!dc` tw^agb!A7wT@iaX;-+lG㭸cȌqۈv]z|xM[<ڶ5wF?aO٨sȂ$*UNwr0dMP6|cw2+l 4HF'PykŴ\ 3ڡv|Ǵd NU3~z6T78Ŏ [xl*0I=5wg­:qpDoyP0/Q&*†+SS#*j{F)'XmNtlr);? F5A<Ԏ:IvX ERl@eDpVWEv02㯁-KX#8ƿo _PÁ¸,m[&UY߃\Y `}0$ vBI_GL_ˋ~yY!m\BQ Jp0ErFqwZK*cW=bTFߘtzr_Y-V xJgYp@Q> ݨ צFzCR{8#w Qk@1c.d7qC̩2qq^Y,ծ(`mC۰LM2^2qXR3ks=7 HTɿƃE+j534E+us2w6.$G"XSO^bo#Wa۵m &bRFxjgǣ=mXQ#؃XN~,!̡߽, qNJﱱs>yfG$~VDqgw(eGGz]V,c#Hkb%\7E/|m@l.l-9IMTMDQұ'_9Q/qWir0 ٘&A[iV@9/[e"|/4"x#fBTu[91{΢쀈DuqBmb3L}sVzrC[L-G9 i^޼X!CmiJ`RTh[O+"N#4H$QƉ8 QJ"O^@mYN E+B?qe..{ghf-ÄS(ҾT-he:~B)mP ˨lǡpи`?+ NL͞uՋ'-\ykC-=Gwqkچ Ja65DKl c*:=ĸ9Ғ"tVeUG۸?'5t4dX߷m=)tWAU}xs1CŬLB?cZ۫`Z.2N'Kτt5J"CO8V{׀ᶱV S/.@9q7Ss˲"?yS? ̲D՛qwA~F(|E{ I_ɵY PaSI)~0#4ζh?@Qgx +pݒY3 ^nry?*g3]L"?iV̶c o9w5d;h4FE.is[~((nhR*ݟAAly "-kJ+z-b|0⵿98VQoSպdYYm>$PW],<۳,#6 ZpOxKG &8(Y;<#.9QFv0Zz`dEUQD?xLjzYYF.Z*xlY!j7Hx S= i>]DB\jMH6VN;i`zIPDY>/fX012Uu3!xh{( /.SbIj8˕5fuCk-(LU$l@h`֨w]\rzy´?5@0Ta<+] ?&hLzPVك݈#+eXSDynn{#un/,!̤ _qI݁6d\#n9[T F\tOnv" ڸ\/ט [㳲/Wx=׸(Rw أ9o{EEdظP81\3Oם0,?DAF}=3Ċ#'Ɲz0pӒo؝m £$grb>Ƚ4qmιb<X"NE(y1bZ_8g6)3oD@ˮh%Fܑz}uPB.,4s4}bF }x*XjM3'^}&5 aHV,9@( XV Rޗ.qĜtD 🷭؎:wwFЍ^'As H3I\s:Bn><<X B{cs$ ZѕLWHcVzT+|jӢ Lͣ$̝a) ܎1|Tr}#\;iK"gd7YRU#Vxuue{L< b=')[kS}}>ЂFIu~[?K(idzڍfyG4!g,F(neն{h|>rV+M`gWD2!e &Ur᥉*/B{Y7Mˉ{嬇jGH}$LQiKYPH(K]gsb3&ŠsnA0l*I|š\~=t( _|$LZ8LĤ~9aTU/ )5sW2f*h4 0o FWv'hǜ|*>1+6RWػeV#"YI%z~oIIkǺ~hgtH_9Gmb0Nj;&02΄hG| l%}8rH6hV%(}WIiB -[2ښgI y)2汉K tS`Ba-8nZ&K=sXֆ~@5|IS ;/ w>O67tL pƄ=0g' qc J n^W^OHչx-j P GA`Z:mG:9* \YlC\gˎط%AϢ;[[ F/|LAxXXѳxpoͣkZ+?q2=OG#'s0(9qI#sgi'xdbz@9ֵC56/Ng+da]^!4Vj:vYVVU`Nr@Dښ (h;'{ߛ]5 t)8W͹Vfp!cwM/iX_\;[)vئ@b*Bx/$l>a}Gr6֊ F(ӌSI3iM 48Ω0ObU1Jk +MXw-/]Գ5Nķn5>yˀLl)~VɴVj>zNW@ɯؼ⤆2ҘCr}42\J>5K w~.^*w4[yZW5W^2ⲞDKc?YAWo}:EV=T ;z1,b-OxAuԢ$ J8Vb R0j-\S鿃M nActsg]+yArx>Czf҄NnF6|nRu5;De #b aA)|]{@,Km p*!K1 ؖVcpA5?e'uC#hp d@6jGZ_]AKO<RxUӕdRXfrZ{'s|Ž{'U,HZ;&:"zǚjDbRs=gAvqzX(Hwü}^^EH>ZOG 2]SJTNgZx˨W{)Rqė6<ڼ-"QES03w鶑a]mބRX0EFp&:P{ mim_*;!Ũ4I'.;,]dwb6%xM2@eeitX5,}g9c5\e:LЏ"nLFJ~S`¥]6a'p>T..Ghd1)xO]ޜ9l;C1>:wx9TlY,_qŹhG~𔤫CɬݘA0<㺡ўC pjL'~PLi%.U, J>%=TSeLBЯw.lTDİǡI/J"Rۓ\>IT@-Jn%4þbAGl+!"=Ȅ9Bx ePXhzvw3RvZ9m:HK,bp8q]lIn b0ӥy#lZP#Rg^ٜ(z⮮ݼe6O4/b>~)CgFHSLU@ݻ!X7? %R>:fSڦϱsa#g| 7=_L]X2ƯӸrрqˑBڇ\}U İvdQñ\MО9{BaEI_[җjf;4 Bm%olY.杸m)Q/ hF"'?"E&4004Qnqm9#*ECAҘ>=mp`ʀs==!|98ͨ߄|M -La9awz^'9T`|B]\nїX I d^% BP}:31Q\aLAsvlh}ʪ9tT@1iiyD7y8-~ű]1s bBא5Mj4|[684J_ nբm.cQ)Va+Dlq\X~@Ef?IuVq?c^,c9c NѾ囇sr2g&B _2?4MGmSXGkŁEZ eD&՘`ܜE7yԓS4'uU?e: Q͍{^NOU _RwOkgXkThGោ)!MJnu=4 gكQ.Ò/s>ӊ{Y7Xo]Hx;+W` . =GL84Ĕ&zfYȧu#O(*3hO|'30Vp@KN 08[н|] ̻E)u5\ue_Pϡ,Tv< K%!C^U?45K e]:pv4wykv $se =`@'u4Q\$ylɭ0CaD\F ֺ6\&%Z)"wFXBx'.xF[} ԕa>v} (ωIvFQrY R-Ir%vJBtn  G8~Uc;0N.o)s-FW>u}}`).h[#n\p&x=MD`зPZfmc(=礥:m.15HYƺYߴ`/mIĜ'WB, *bDZtMFb7*h쯀/+Q"V٣E%ςA -EEJ2l/ǺtǤHK4?gQYSZmߙWN&"l`k0uA|!'7ヘP)/J#;)GSd1`$ȧ},b$KUGgQ+V fFL~b+LRuV:;*ƥYf@,YW=k$BY1Ӭôcn{3l };$q4\O2E" ;%pZւ&yΓ7Tܷo# > ԓ"t9Sp4 gXfOA}Y,-,;gdx 7||j $feFS%,Iu?k͟K 84 7d({.Sأռ{1,E:hpotgm=pw=Z81G 0[yd te1nC;d[NPY.(ǫ dro5\{V*R= ` Lɿ0#t|wDrV4&r!̓tW^eSGE5}8\y3W&>)oOelN rY<5ȓXZcb7U (9k\38_L~D.hMݡsQ#SMוcPe%5VX\Ba57P] 78ÈQQ\,>+:dd *ɝ{ʰ-WX+}VL4s*m!ZD毴7z{y_>G=j+H'95_gGIz ^ZU`cְw~0V2{dLPҮzv\ FDk;o6'awCF96Og8Kȼm'Kq|nxwS8q(q?6z%L>=e5k>_yS[Wրa\1Y[SXLԽk &d/#]dV\b,')h,Hq' -6k~N+0QO|w{:KiBQr.&< F@ SRŊ (+؋2#!HMg $'rP^{u*Ohe_8c:̫{3t< UĚ?)CMsEZ]݌knYʅRjG9TK4IcN4$@`kyVc)͒ *j -`[]nk!e[>HU!W(Bat5wFgEstDR Xu❉L._$C:'zBrIMs. bd;%<&LBT[(E!]R?:7;MHsN75+3;hSIi`1g|޿ׇ3y$toq2><Utu^a㪗y PjwMQ!mQmveN/}%OY14$ڇZ͋?zXaʼIV5yu| a󐫻V> ᅉM<0榛2ExTgT/ /~$Ehbs<|o7@5;g,^2:*81d@g/ZfJV]o>(evDctcѸТxW~c?F =uBbk>-Q)Tp9%n.o * ҕAA:e*$[r܆''Bd VtiΘ~'nVjǵYx8,};ˤy{_"p-Pdr âaMfj3W^Qn-k :텼( P4zf,Iݿgó #ypI1KQΜJ@Z5SU8Lmx[Or_.W5Q6_.kVN/^~q,} Ow.rvCo Ua`@FrEQ$aN ɇOҷ6S:'7O9?hUB؛UAZ|}?kFKmD.T;kw|8,6bO 6 Y0&jF*@q%Y!l4[Y{ v&+m:a(ߵE;_ qNsX4i!ȓ#FlXXaepX q5Z2@ kԐ(6I|C CfQٞbK)$e\(*eF-O*}0h0Ee~QKW$|SW)K؉Dj9_E\h@Ӵud/}~ ?'GY h4U{'cc!_d / m00׭_,^K-=v[`:ꕭ#E,{u{Q%BW MOżrp0Ubq,a>싓z<4lEbvh=M@`bQY/>YMl)!YQEF|#HQ"sQfL/zpu Ɍ3=LL=~A}A4D AStI^D#Դ|EUpBj&/4:<[0̠,iIJaQ[<yf\':`ɎR^_d}%!d}i©Sjum]Ls${qxp`>t:K̩P2C\mN=Ta}N/25+UEF!ļ &K?wdA^p2T9#oߧv\.>dncS t=B:ڰl&M6d,JrDPLĺh #,=t1gƹ{ ?$_N DZ8>Z9)cpD'zOS:h >UKHj`|VNWD"pR%9h#_Vxk9$ $lolOwƺ$w1 GGiUjׇR;R@E_Gzb6xm qetN!w7Ccgc]qa;w-j'O;sWUCʷ`hrEK})4JA c.yy03g O~~E: /gg5On5[x C>18MwI>1v: }֝/;~yƼ7u"$B`,BN_;N >m3>GTܛmhPZOfltǀQb~$t)\{Zsуly|Pg$7ɨ-Zm,S!͢/ O'nG)y7#IjEW{yɠyzK`0+X'_C˟hlʈLmT{3͐(Q$ nP{i4<A49)2 4#B?N  /k6\=|(czW`Zbz+Ds``Kp(>1VM=GzI̡ Y4%˥r.Ohtr/+j\!mY*k&P)洇Iu9"hi ߋ yu*L [{ZU6 y?R*[ĂgLa4|e+냆b: SKJ׷/G%w|S4 QF;ń r h&`%E 7;'tEY>uG&Z|r^p+6uI ﰬCS;z妡g@a[2ш=cxi_E ɁS.vHrQf2e>vv RTFYX>z:1@tujTutC87W(HGn1._[Q_0dytjI4A (lͻzkqZO !ʊMw F٨0k@* )R…>tUPV="z;K[ 4:[8͙ A- 1:]`ȨiMc(RWnB$xu#h žUS~Aw+j /ܻC[joW5YR-HlTIO'_Iْm3SͿ00WlTAROwf [(S :~icB,^ oA1zVD+jA7A9x^:7 ה-@RGՙU7%\[Ա*Pt f)ҘNMk0\c;tqRuOץV1 3ǯou7v_!-B6q %^{w$R8,:!aWy\- ]GᰖdtTG5m<'E. PG3;R2-HV|&hpK;cxW6P,Ea+ Y|,TH&$ܪw0PF36=?C#(Rk993vZ5#v㩟mi&BuHCos 7h!3A"ꎩe'2(.FXڝj$ߌ!_קk딐҆}nC */?_o0Ȧ'c/z[slN =:;]/eumtgG@S~YeOa(yJkĿ%}Ũ:8%bU?<ᖋ39sc١G^8}$f3VS@W{7Tad | [Lםa>㫗+:3έh]On֊Zzqx %0Æ1臐t8rlmE~y5j9cn{B:V0flѦLsxsd'b*IUPrĪ$sNIV@ۣ*Em;t))2읒tI8]|cp_;%)2-$uwl3еdH ;UܻױߙJ<|ĂyXx J_A=bq 8חPtbY=$@sϹT-ڒ[f~x8*3d2@fOS:7̧1t]Pe["&_.JaFۤ#{pM-ÐHTYqzQgRIZӪpx[6 PqoUG6j#8*Q[Y|~pEQ1ӣ&tVv{ҭhA\-dL?1Ho"z>V H |NH3 {&ʬckCn+  +#o!iF w(CÓ6z 4zkeyfރ NbPś='=],z0fpc[TM< -J.jQ ɡ=KՠK(2K"J@MCGQlY-ֲ'W泡b~I 3`X ?$lyR#v/S##wlB쎃Xv 'I} O3}Vf] Z"~ol\5^ϛ|?!TDSt7:@d\ٹ#VGѭv,'#H6Ȓ*䃷 D\alA8&Y:uW6ρ^NPeugT[7u&6XIWgY:2[`BAਿ#?߼&!q( 1?\ʳ/i)8&} /8D?֋`@<\2jA[8=Q#Vh %:7޴.A;'O<>_)<ǹq 2e׿4puMTA!a"`pkȾW/H֤!"tK@KZ#d5[ࡤGQg;L*t*vI葼\[fIX x6]~oi:[== X\pg"# hZτ4p ??ެQc1вq7FhJ:\~']pxIe{]=ЧWkov[~o,ϨW]ҧڣ]`5ߚhC0ҝ0N֤~BuuWOłύF@F¼9E~1n#Zu1(fo.(JqA †3ͷ~}8\b;c{yw_gDC4ɍ.v"G{jz۞eP7I|;)J:P* чHm?{ꉾli3w8qEZ'w@K 8UHmF-lsw;#oHc:UKqe~]o7JKw2"&2kj')ڑ]PN0cB80*y]S0Y!A1;(Iņqndf'yS\BC]%u܎3Nu@>4,/RsFwluR ᤜsR j%4*ANiԖ9$ ^QF3E0kk,Ct _D`U4*R|syUlGpwTm2)&BioWNN@p@W tfbXƜU4=?)gB㩽3!d6l3B:8):5n'O}Y[,uyt\ Y2@Oε5fݚXPi p_[+aѼ䀤\L ]3aqg*d1B3mQLp$!inŲM ,௨16!w?X#Vف Gma4 !e)]iH{&믐w8e9BQ`[ο}κd[@P(_];:XγO\50yTX3&>::/wM ,Cs1QZ&uA+"0xTfiIߧ)C[gRO9pz\~`VPH}'ǹi@j h{m!n 6w8*D=#.P2G~WJ[ҍr(x*Fve%)jsC7v"{HmxC=[DIy.yXTCj >19Z Iy='[b28@P X-tyCq7q%3a=hۃ 8 ̷Kߓ><=j_^m^ uXϸcqgJ/Y*&PW$LDMj୰Up8r,-PHW." =,+-H $#FSͧ@Ft]8D!<fsb Aۭ֓ot7b"Kź J Af+⋥!,rpI#"QZ'c,3R%W6!/ ԁN-"B^7_8gQDX}zܗsBPIMx.G5^6%.CD*s]]1x S30QY ;ښ!ByyAIt@Y}2qՓVJwhr^ L].WW#_|j^@ kxۼdC?!RPIr:{UZЯ_A]W/eW%EF f}vO+9hm(|$Ulk~Í)=C"4|Mu 'gRo Ѵ \:__D1 6}-"Tѱ;+0YoIU̥RH+iEѮ7%Vk6ϕ< ~* =74YOFMT66o;;/ -~&"af7L(t=Jutq=Хe#sm, HEdbn졎oef|GS P-ª'&[+[Ƿ>È+]Vf .e9uӺܘ`pQŠ`y8F.u.z(2 \dRF4lTU[YCS-d@CfV{>F<G1告z>HOޡ6BP:NlDޚeX>ЇG($S8 Xd}9݀)"Bܚg!i u|l5O0Q>~zN*YLh[h)zl#WՑ`mnoo#﯉&w%pO^ja"&WxפnN}zOtg@KWupvߜ M *=ʴWX*VNR@k/ڱt7`E]"nS? - 2@0ԀXAe@7r$ݘV[q{>K9׍[G$=XR__aEajvCB+3wn j܄K^ ycWzz֗E?@5rUQU}Z"g@**Pi{|,yyͦS/_0QJ~CDI,|:*Ic&_(D'GЂ?rOlx8C]H8FT{1W dClFw9$anp! = e^>1Y%֮S*8h0%2!7EL%M2mlts~̂cѳ7Д\b]$3\f1"]Le tK -!uR̸+w1lDrP(p2e5]YV5]:CT/LtOr E:oaÖ834}O#Ы^͙:𽼲Tj$3 b r S"kHv\Nw6#08*S;YPyc9t9vjݱ/;US40ma–ܷ~,዗V2fA0ʢehCtX2""@ } lj7/%;[hFᣖ.Sz1fSjݨg*ɾX}^#:"kŔWTԦG"YTg @KFqx߬T?"{ FFmj-YuU?Nqϯ$ht#~(+̗ҧ<"eH'HBnp~YOKcu;`EzY׳ںE|1q7;w(H_͇R$s7&}Ɓͤlc9{)t4ce!]RWYGŖuqhzYCZPGWFh#|ә]'%[_zRdɿpx)ph~Rfsv6^x[#{+gB $%_lUl.V+VRǫr4}$1[K&$ Yt6imj@+ZD\H\D1#RNw\ ڨ2+8M\{pr!\M 3:J_.9v$1e o%j2 O@m>0f6HydHA2E q-c u&]`ޑc'a%Qz MYYnmuSZ>L #oUAj]'APEdW9i!ÿG(T8ۻI23p+*>z'rN:z6k̛O1,Xϕ![$ \Ju~採w$岵 B0k04Q}B7wȮgUuBָSDɡdnQe'Mu4" 71Z`ʠό=}yBS>A,awk,tWɆ{V}Uo-d[lGڇVꄿu⫯L_BӅ,24meDQQiѡ*0Ro~_/FCUD#05umWN+v&:y3RuT d;)MS}WTcq_6&c󥩱Z8XՐ>C@Z*d&r&RqAhİ("n,ܭc<4C0qm}dրPTMn'E{hOفygAc&QWP` /)(2!K }xD6@0A{x&{hZk,#n3Ryl-~Xj;ǯgfg]tƛcÙbВzL dJӞOk)BﳃE>UacN{`Z9Nd)ob#H&5 'Q]Hf;% ,u'-@0$f<SQbNoRyTQrC!Ӂ@^dύ9r6Σ!BdP[MHSYH+CG`#5㗠>/4zDv~&_$"kԿ|wH-)YL\cJ5>4T=d;'0E"iM$OZHf?WZZ?}j F\#=6=MmGHe.,(Ak8*;@4M;6N|鿑䩞!!=Jnjm;| G9t/9K]ɳE‹Zdj[ 8EnϽUpY10x2B0;R3M 3L'_7ac#mJ6=7>.H9I+A H^#.q>Dݠϟklh>F' `y:6=R#zTOU=9XGZ>>~>τ"&SD33sUc]UA!9_zU2X:m o76Lyn[C؞!q]c8 B ( 5 /cծ T ?C߫ >M ÍMCM{h1 b6|A}K JL+&0GNd3'eEJ*&.iۢ" NKgHm+k<}xK) "k@o \8̯0RWyoa?R!c08@ҍ)\!s_wvma;ǬqoOf )n`↪ gL`pAΝ81WHT3rlG̀{5c5So¬dW/AԜCB'3i]in98~Q;*DJ.D mDx7 [n]:wpVF#FLwRUE!$,"SxjmS {ba5XgMy=\]4*)m.fɈR JGJ<ǚ-/W-q Lj ܉QmS!);\#4rt2YcTqڬě"\ӼkكZX^T MZJݾQ]<O?- IS-ȍb7~]Z^tl.^sS┢J7RUf4n.mDJs4z^VO2@t n$v޹] ʫw;WgJf>r"`Q/n!:F_!|R Ϭqpb^!`kaW^wU.-H28DryS$hqXUm2I07(|J@^ד4:KC {52E,>ڮgT9y׃|,|n!j99qTQ+{$Ϛw2Cb//\ͺ [nRbDWfQ+'ۅJXHL]ׇbe0AC5Mh!%_%sN]/:2NsW#O?m*o)yʷ=J+Jl$ όDDmL;_Y} F694|Z5eNQOֱQbȊ=# g9TZE$ZrFDn+{vZ )LuWPrGQ[G-}/D~GhT?Izf- yl`iK[$; m|-<89xݴݔ`rVnt}gJ!xw2Jj`s(D X C:hQfaV0(3Ɂ*vnh?jV;?c,VjDoV& }PДIh廰3_K-^\Ӊr^kj鼋D|ig7t%Me+XvR;A|<5l%(t E5)?O׮ MA 4p-jH?2f{&@<˰\Oͅ%qʕjV\NwL @Q1sz<o^UH!Q-= yo`MuHnN~%޼GƪaYP{jRu`|VGdl7zoRnSGݣ L-X b=\p#PQHK-7֊"IP>*AN*,Avwy)ZKւ2H fBeF0a.Tj 8Z!Zc*w}SƬ yk8'& Cn!Y[ىFGPj޷]B#EQ kS "=FlkQRftSH4 u_?q?`^x 9*l@mnͶ4ru nYZpar~;\ru 07-GrHIN$0H=umOg mKc7=B}0² ~ ǚ !;ϊ߁"HM2O }3$Zj|kΣA˝7cǦ=9a~Mmإ bSp M@r}oģ\ڌ,ePGD6On2q3* qT 4(8.vT|):ȴ ǔwx5dJ \.#.^3ydu>}0ja>&02;MVs~GI?RH. ^ڹRA}䠗!FbެylJ4USjE`jΌDh[0B%]~W:Rvԫ W<(tc>`=s,.fuSkHwAb;VYZjOӫ&oLթ͟SD;SH]W ?j1Q٭i.#/.bHKؒڬ] 5X(Oc8Yrǘ֢(bz=vL]srrp {]Cm&'z(ȤqR8ċyɲ_!>_20,G'"fC$1[KnFLVy1 ]\>f/g汸uD}S?Vbܞ?D[54|:JBd^Up/=pbfF̮Pw0_b[%wUP$ =D+IVOE`9_?eX:3+gE Oqgg)ol|Cj53/{y#bcWjv9o]]'E-Bh7/8{ Fqw1~ ..9mz{^&{rmNzaZ9s@yJhg3&&OSEvk/qkFyJ|ܪل2߹i2a T 57N,Eѡ`tA KW?pl̬l5;^%~q]N7He].P|=n]6@en/--\3MK5_3xmۤ͑)yӟjKF)BbԆ4ށҸ?nt#0('>>¦LXqMb$5A@gt̪D]9k7qhPvCG>󱰳ZlߢDs3mk:wO&k`yߡe3,ۙ#o[*; :p߹5Is>Rو)lFQe eal0 g`-ggaRY_Qv+QVŸ-ŗ{Zxvmc ;% C`F U>.6)8ٻ r#~-e;J=s>7|8<n )j* \E9YSE43p#<ڪ@nF1`^ v ecrޏɌxfZ֤v1XQ3VL71K`80:7QI}`+W\2f VEwSlQf)i{6_Yeӵ8P螑qšN}GXZ ۭSqwq0mT(a^F_X 6V9i1\<*7.M,3't5/w~̷w ̱pۂwcKNAPp  a-LmG^%Qi g6WcgQcXIZcDbZ-o3-@iLVgQ`ȞFU }%yiQ!*Y!sU [pt4a+ !|ɞQ-BCg@]P>nSP9L'sc\&){JodS,T`rE*۠!_%G^.(Zz?jvuԅNl6K0-!$Bgnq;1܍ԆV/d&pyl Pš}-9 xG\~iH hO1$:$m kVD'<'o}`PV!>M:wh ShpjG(FX GckE\ &o\W"JPPikMCBK 6H29/Ei{%z!Ŗ( ץgGxL!'`~QKlPA*Hx ALK8r2Ǟtı{FbڔVh T?}e1VYJ3<7ۄ Df8TҠxį>We,hvtGut jzbCɠo_i 7._<\i o M//芞.V@j 3“;!jvIQP/U~~ KG 3GK|F{ܙ;δMnbjXȞTz"<|%n;[US]+#_dr%la=bDo /eyt5~"?H1/0:4@rQa[Bgy߱9%5_d/J_:s,,nlrQc@ s뮪PB^wxk "0 [f(pW?L nC.7.['j.GcJLQV v+_D`g@vۊZn0:$`$ܽ5gGslX[d0>?L?uЃ eX+ZBZN sFLFK]B:k@wJcSJ%VK@Y2 Gd\HBIl.ˮ-ey4x<LVPw?# 5b+oÔ(XίV p/}(e;#5b r,h$‘]41ߝݯh2fxʵ *DzQ'q#C)ځzZؚ!d*P #ƙ {ޘBz'ؼQ4gTH}ּ!+J!6b!r8hw*XXңЋ5lE39KWK)j!H;V^oAi|XHIͲL^ k)o:=B@bFőv0#\I ڪDaNfn82̜i 2zn5t+)XW7+{"WULVX@6 P_K /UYcNU~ 4nn@wb.[]=e[Y3еcY%f9ל+ b]XDAeBD#xtZ*|i/ Dg}d*yo+ħ%Lw]@"%訓B!T {ހnLJk< .#ArGu \ac3V #xMBDC:k`Jl1TL\ g>.Vv0VQ# |Fiۉnh1wǓ$GG !ˮҫLͿ3Y{خlC%8(C;oҙm@Rs`h:N\[]B>CL< :#כLizՅ C(Oy)9Ya=3Ȑa엷`[=X}ln<X?"Q଑TF80na@^%g˓dOcS1Mʍtg|WW p9m6Y&U h7#-vn&[i4bRrl6hDW1bu,"XETZfbCT]8-[ɡak.ڕ- +w%$ 80Pyd@]m18re.7Ʉ/ٱ ^%Xf0JW^'bM9\U#WXכm0tgUS9XSmnҚ7*ڦArB@N,M|0BW DeMo8 u[*U`TW`5W*0:fވWh X%\Y4!ng@mT~WdN f |E:]]_Yh ?ถ߄[F.hEI}&Pg4W)#8S.졿yEsSţj`߻x(Ӆ&Ӥep+?,Mɑ ty#c2gv\Ri# ڷA-=1$< ]||V7yl3B ݮ~l_&7\@| A S\Š%myQ0>y";匢 nK+ޯǀ;'e+K3 46@PgœWE@&Όpߧh oTWk֡}YC l CW}1lHA͒BH;e!V=>54IpRd^r7#[1mˆgf$DDJ\਻:A#8#͞)fqD2T]z rH#3֟uݶ|f j+D~fsETר+=Ra;|*(&F'(/ ]׀bu9̤1zDOU5U*cycۢc:TdFS*JBh5P1؉Ͽ\hC& Ŝ6:x!؇*6}wҲziK}돉oPݚU}NyȏT?ET|#{e|X0;;5%U-V=QX!2#x,D,QKɪ9(l8|"ρ p# \-W@s9` 8?MvZ/"}:FČmB5ikCеÐZoj!&J <+ܘwGffmhsP'"ubt@I_@} R͗=(=RE1'˩ECw8%C"Ak ÞuPoDA{^W%26ԕ?WiY{@RD0=ئ0h]Ia;eD\EbUC@-ScM&]8SS E6wl {$5mc'p5J+3*vf˴ &V([b7Ztd#!0Ot-p#1k7kRUݭV=4MZ"UI iBKf0#a9dթo9țϴl$NM A!tcڢ[JOP.Sn+`IH0MjIOY6:g󱒧4qnW9o6P!f 7O߆"MIp9^(7ֵt:z'0r!{5艤PbHm2yփ]TRkf']'OLY%qdkL^(C,82nQ<^IiVe˻$eyM&RY0ZE:wEf%ԩiL=GO͛n9ͮlx6tdNnYa=.),r=K g r- 4/\өs̘ $})%w 5}r-|Dʗ<(xa48)IG4072ۧx 10}AR 9 x_q^y >7IW%%{ ]>Gu*6jp55AЛt)ZT[H.4V N IbÖ_7V=lN36Ȱ]'寽+-|k4MզS gXƖb֗_?dЬD7 C{hi]J5R+_ Kpa]S)Jι4Mx3϶j]`Z߱T*φH"W[gQToCrAsAq͢(*(Q)P{%Fzy, F=<#p\ثfkՈ 4\M|JdKD#}ȏGn`+VWo+5ѓ_ۆ>֧kÎtPg:?1 čZ ](_DjKlIjɃy1W}c]k4.I߬ME,H8f˃S z*6M"1C:b+rhvx8z6ֽeٴ~*Tګ [^0D'ωfGCITd Lۣ#*&kUa4qA%2)~z0Sdf8xk@g!lg!i/84E6K'XPsLbV$K1Mr8=veP3jh3q ƷfX)Xo00_\'~I th H Qb쥸$߫׳_$, a@(}@>Ȧ1PZ?ԝ 5VN8+Nl2 +*x&q^>vrkf=^Wq؅CwZA"ughQ:tD`{zA%^J4#W+݄Ck'DA> ]/.xD\vMw|j1FDgk\-$/}KhoV:|8$?$Li؂v\3shhBbY}1wFWoşHNLO2-21i:6(/=B [ѵ Mt_}c^.TW ̻m %H!aeXPM'xSaDlJ^p`/bp2$@2|$ T/&{hWPJ,Wβ>6WF30r@ay22> ѐ3ݼpg0l3K,$;*xV-wqBTk @ m\ȭjp~ DUΆm56g;m)+`z4mxw'CMt+?ѻ|]1ؘp`{թT-'cB^E<3Yȯhכ7 DeJDr9uq K]ݯXWEfiA*Do1Y0.74ZmF\" 'Ny8իn>~'%!&JWVVȷ{z1<~rWBTi|Orɀ:&d*4l rJ6+\{-c\ge+jhbײ -DJiKcH'P0!rL*_ѣ n#!C4x_]?]e&;Γ`Bm6&qIJnW>jϵF/ f@#Z7R\C/d@u&!S3__}\?<ͿO5IwmڍDT6$X \W-nݳJ ͼc%drh1ըŰ?=Pqfhz2 ۰?rB>W?ǪwAa6ɐ!/C-B6!ra~]INi˻]GXE`~7BJΙ<P3lլ t|,Cb>.E7N؜]`h @4lu# $dh)DwC#IfWsP_n h6MdR/ ך*$IJ=(p^ 8~|`Zt ;1Bճ P*  T@vO\e^_H5,ͬ.XF|{q/M <~h,Ԫ:WǑmhڀףf tfZCzM MkOD(Νvd59ؘ;kgt"PWE&Qd 1xL%k.,f+]^fGyAϺnh,("VxD?ELӠ`5΢Z. @2h}4ua Q yՁ :v(O1#Iyr\mMygg{3Է1*F*$Gܸ2XZշwNcj4k\\Di"*g. fV2eNt1JjF,ƃ%64Wimv(+~َ5D_Yc4}I*XcO<'QlXe\n ](nQa7plRo98 ~[6N&GႺ"*/eiJy׏-]#r s+s *9W|*Q#UqTnI(% v!*d*̷A֩#"'g-b`49wF) dW9kI7yZ]XjvItFZUiC=Yc7^>m;3m}zU?agϼY_u$vkč=d jճ>2EHvw Ӟ9[lK*MLugh\2w+2TRT"{aSP[,.1ߙ α 5m׆Gʘ%>O}9~ގS= J2XIFO*Ԫ$[lo{oqۂyd)#(ԇ`=jDZX$ĂC6BO_Q8D}Ok5޷kԔ΢[1%P \d1*u: 2~@ˌp)?%9~9U'w||Oh2V2هۀ3cb[ǟ3Tvcӱd2q,N_Í+.4=_"g ExߏC>/]E) h:M$\ %C>8\ywKV{z˿ ݌hV7<Ȫl's~4ţ{=8a]&O tˍ]I83,j}F97ûjzY034)1ӣb$d}dT)A@RK"v ԍH~0t˪dlxo+d)[:HM[-!7<8jg[>lwH4-uy(]l.Q"̃SI5~ޣrU*.b8=3ZH<=uAϊ7#ˎ=1craKuFZZS[y-Էk1vu&8샽ˇEi&7ru 2Uʘ@8})CT_e˳:eP:/ڭ4!(c]jhJ|%=$b>{b(/aM. o*6 sn+9' &v8~Ɛ 8|{Jĥ8Wk&R7hul)aZտ=B{HkRBIͳoVwN0dێpgǍW@سkÉC(0,ߚPcDϟ{ wCݠ􆚽u|n[jzg/LWqA^rMciU˵7!6҂i V(.ACpAU~{z,}кcCH:,aVN%306(3 "C֕Q|7n/H@ t_$f P$\֚+t*37B\Ns3HA-*HލLvWcGo%N w'ezgjr;XP运+nA+~8Dt >/4܊}CоLjb#!.bja[IJ`"97= elƢ7[?Ojq_2Kaڅ8 $}"6XJlˠ8N,) sJE`ED =#mu%x)Љ&˂SiRvEbyYK<g!(mʮ 8"}K%i*eG ua "dk+$|T-o4:csMZSIaޮ6>^J PhaHÆ8~2R0RY5Jq$=oQcQCIVʆyhCUzԚy8G=VO-)2H·LEk ׊Lø" &KW&-0; /-M.R?4摧6aR??v#\`d!`͆7 ˧֦Ն?Q`ǠOTi`\BLf]q뾭"r?1^|{DOf[l bR.n+*7 5,CBO*^>Y.A J͎F^ad~-ʂT?jz=qu<*i-It)%T?~ߧK a 1\ .C<11,Ů8G([L\kUƉoSN'^S*@r\OVh? oQ"K ?Y Y~Z؋R52Q;D ch:js,s\+B59[7[Ч,WjxocEcߩc$\Fi^̀Ep9q3#RFT\tEp&I%=<9mt Z$J]zB2Ҫ<A~=" Kwb b|*ܣ? s e6\dCb+T9R@iT0mZT]錶 |/5]u2 ϑLd4(eWϝ~6l|(z;Ja8 2?8cZpT63ϙWfJxQ 9AhZnVN~z0M,$SO&7Goo{$/ I%NGcfեuwxqnjK?~[m4V 4a2]O!U})eQY޸{c>奖H$\/:Sx1FWg:Za0f9*de}$%̇TUz Dӕա=\c2,[ʢ¶H < ҳ_zk8:܊in.1=lg=a&вN-3NCx)2uVxhc;v9Q`R:qE7j6E O?} qp3^ʼҞThbFfYrE2C5/E[8.K3o>|[Їy;oy< OCŞ3zaORPOmRTo*x嬨xE (F#f`Po4ڠ $vu`K 6{+N"Zq YֺC6c#fC\+lHc8gS il=3=9#=x`xGŦ@c(AL*d <{V5TdԬLO0-`Дf-?2'у_LspMb*װ،Ѐأ'*񰆔"S2U1ؐ8c2ݞbi`4|;O߄7rn?'"[w% E,-3-It\fN4C|ىk "5 z/҅rYAmh|O߂.Cc9:%v}+OrC$<ߠ=v~_<@>"cP73.ʔ &AC3a!{WնM'I7z F'+_0 x@;v*"s;uⰻPIt??[3W';i!fH;HӼE)LdaG\ ^}Yc7x!nr[V»;bK!5OR~kDgD*EoC |Z٭?F ?PUaK2?.@ J1@>EC{}3>I\6ݠ酛ag<d_+Q44w"C`5|(aۼG]I2lm~(,uoK2;nP_/Uȇy7ȇw)ou[<)DT|`pnd?_O ȅ!Ay@>}_cu=nRy&*)= L'Y 'M6fbIcoYȸ{ЁwI|N2')OsMm#!]YA֓ሪ޼_q UvOb/ Ȩ  qMƱxO!i)P(9)Q2ޒQ,{;!JkΡi?7܋Xf3Xb%V*ҕ}9v' xݏ}t`>&Hf /нfpT=(U]6)B!Y.5e +u1 עR wsf8^2ȅЙ 8qq"Ȼ6*EiPSuENL$,l from the patrol division. One of the officers had stumbled onto a burglary at the K-Mart. He drove into the parking lot, probably to have his coffee in peace, when he saw three men run like hell from the rear of the building. He called it in, then chased them for a few hundred feet. The men dropped a total of six army type duffel bags. The bags and their contents had come from K-Mart. The men got away but the merchandise didn't. A quick check of the bags convinced the officer, the men had been inside the store for some time. There were items in the bag from every department. Everything from shotguns and rifles to radios were piled haphazardly in the bags. The patrolman called for backup and a sergeant. The sergeant arrived on the scene and parked his squad car near the building at the rear. After a quick conversation with the patrol officer, the sergeant put in a call for the detectives and scientific unit. Jerry and I were close, we arrived before the crime lab van. Jerry and I talked to the officer who had chased the three men. He was convinced they were making their get away as he drove up. I had my doubts, but Jerry swallowed it hook, line, and sinker. I was still trying to think it all through, when the fire department's ladder truck arrived. Unlike an ordinary fire truck, the ladder trucks only equipment was a bed filled with ladders. Every type and length of ladder was to be found somewhere on the truck. The firemen placed an extintion Ladder to the roof. The roof was slightly over twenty five feet from the ground. Jerry insisted that he and I be the first ones on the roof. It could have been either he and I, or a couple of the now many patrol officers standing around. I really didn't see any problem with us examining the roof. I sure as hell wouldn't send a crime lab man up there until I knew if was safe. No one at that time had found an entry point. It looked pretty certain that entrance had been made through the roof. Sure enough when we searched the roof we found a vent had been removed. I could see the night lights of the store through the opening. The burglars had knocked a hole through the ceiling tiles. "Jerry keep an eye on the hole, while I call for another ladder," I instructed. I didn't expect him to really watch the hole. After all he hadn't taken orders very well. I walked to the rear of the building where the other officers waited on the ground. I was in a conversation about how to best get a ladder onto the roof. I thought, since the manager would take another half hour arriving, we might go down through the roof just like the burglars. The noise behind me was no more than a firecracker pop. I felt the terrible pain in my groin before I even understood what had happened. I turned on unsteady legs, trying to look behind me. I got a glimpse of the shooter's head protruding from the hole. I also got a glimpse of my partner standing with his mouth open and his gun drawn. I expected one of them to fire. Either the shooter would kill me, or Jerry would shoot him. Jerry had the training and the angle. I stood for a moment before I realized Jerry had frozen. I tried to get my own gun from the hip holster. The kid felt threatened, so he fired the.22 again. This one hit me in the face and knocked me from the roof. I feel on top of the Sergeants car. I found later, I had been shot, not with a.22 rifle but with a.22 pellet gun. Compressed air projected the slug that took my eye and ruined my sex life. Goes to show my mother was right. Those things can put out your eye. I was lucky, if it had been a rifle slug I would probably be dead. If not that, I would have lost more than one testicle. My last thoughts before I passed out on the scene were the same as the thoughts in my mind when I awoke from the nightmare. "Did Jerry freeze, or just wait for the kid to do, what he would have liked to have done himself." His explanation was, "The kid was between us, so he couldn't shoot for fear of hitting me." I told the hearing officer that Jerry was indeed some twenty five feet to the kids rear. I didn't tell them that I had given him a specific order to watch that opening in the roof. I planned to take care of Jerry myself. I never got around to it. The bottle got in the way. I almost drank myself to death. I probably would have if it hadn't been for AA. I don't attend the meeting like I should anymore. I went when I got the urge to drink. I don't get it much these days. I finished that nightmare and was working on another one, when I was again awakened. This time it was for dinner. I had missed lunch completely. I was a little apprehensive about eating since nothing solid had stayed on my stomach so far. I was so hungry that I gave it a shot. I got down the soup and the crackers without a problem. I moved on to the tasteless pudding. It all seemed to stay pretty well were I put it. "So you are awake," the middle aged woman with the granny glasses commented. Something about her reminded me of a hippie. "I am pretty sure, that I am." I responded. "I'm Doctor Middleton, I am going to be looking in on you from time to time." she said. "So Doc, what's the repair list and the estimate," I said trying to smile through my swollen lips. "Let's see, two cracked ribs, one broken bone in your wrist, a slight concussion, and cuts and bruises to numerous to mention. It seems you are lucky to be alive." she said. "Depends on which side of this headache you are on." I said. She actually smiled. "It looks as though, you will be with us a couple of days at least." "I really can't afford to be laid up that long," I commented. "I'm afraid you don't have much choice. You need to rest, and that concussion could be a problem. I would say two more days at a minimum." "How about a compromise? If everything stays cool, you spring me first thing Saturday morning." "If you find someone to stay with you, that might be possible. I will not send you home alone." she said seriously. "Sure Doc," I said. "There are some other things we need to talk about." she said. "I don't have any insurance," I said. The doctor laughed. "You know, that isn't all we ever thing about. No this is about your previous injuries. We did an MRI while you were sleeping. You had a good surgeon working on the eye. The other was not quite as well done." "You mean my lack of a full house, so to speak?" I asked. "That's a new way to put it, but yes. I guess they were more concerned with saving you life, than saving you sex life." she said. "Well this is a pretty embarrassing subject Doc. Why don't you just tell me the bad news." I suggested without a hint of a smile. "There is a lot of scarring down there. I think with the new micro surgery techniques, we can fix your problem." "Which problem would that be?" I asked. "I think we can fix it, so that you can have orgasms again." she said. The idea was a knock out. "Are you kidding me?" I asked seriously. "I said, I think we can. Well not me, but some of the new surgeons. It is something you should give some serious thought." she said. "Believe me, I will." I said. "For now rest, try to think pleasant thoughts," she said with a grin. "I will try," I promised. Thompson came in a couple of hours later. "Well boss, you can scratch the Raleigh connection." "Why is that?" I asked. "The kid is changing schools in the fall. She refused to talk about the reason. You can bet your ass, it has something to do with that house." "Right now, my ass isn't worth very much. Did she say anything at all?" I asked desperately. "Yeah, she will call us, if she changes her mind." I wanted to kick something. That bitch was our best hope to find out what the hell was going on. I should have gone myself. During my ranting and raving at myself, I noticed the envelope Vette had left on my table. "Thompson, hand me that envelope please," I said as levelly as I could. "This one?" Thompson asked as she picked up the brown envelope. "Yeah," I said. I didn't trust myself to say more at the moment. I tried to focus on the typed page, but couldn't. My eye was watering and my stomach rolled with the effort. "Thompson, close the door, then read this to me. I can't seem to focus my eye on it." "Sure boss," she said. I was a millisecond from screaming at her but I fought the urge. I needed her more than ever now. She carefully opened the envelope and began. "Result of examination conducted on one Sophia Evans, subject is a white female nineteen years of age. She appeared in good health except for cut and lacerations to her face and arms. Subject stated that she had been beaten and raped approximately twelve hours before the examination. I found traces of sperm both living and dead in her vagina. I found no evidence of tissue damage in this area." Thompson continued with the dry reading. I ignored her, I had what I wanted already. "Thompson," I interrupted her. "Find my keys, then go to my apartment. I want you to find the tape of Sophia first interview with the city cops, then I want you to find the report of her interview with Vette. Take them home with you. Take the recorder if you need to, but make me a list of any inconsistencies you find. I mean anything at all, no matter how small." I said. "What in that report makes you think something is wrong with her statements?" she asked. "Nothing in the report, I just want you to make the list." I snapped. I thought about it a minute and realized how it must have sounded to her. "Thompson, I'm sorry. I hate being cooped up here. I need to be out helping you. I shouldn't take it out on you. Please forgive me?" I asked. "Don't worry, I know you are miserable. I can take your crap," she said with a smile. "Thank you Thompson, when this is all over, I will explain everything to you." I promised. "You won't have to explain. I will understand. I am, after all, no dummy.". "I know," I smiled as best I could. After a few good-byes, Thompson was on her way. I waited to see what would happen next. It was a nurse with a shot and a pill. I don't know which one did it, but I went out like a bad light bulb. I awoke to the sound of metal banging against other metal. Breakfast was being served in the hospital. I ate with relish. I felt like a different man. I had some pain, hell I had pain every time I moved. Not always in the same places either, that in itself was a good sign. My head had hurt so badly the day before, it was the only pain which registered. Today it was ribs, mouth, and hand as well as my head that throbbed. At nine the first visitor arrived. She came in wearing a green dress that cost more than my hospital stay. "So how are you doing today?" Gina asked. "Better, I think. I guess, I should thank you for getting me to the hospital." I said. "I know, it is hard to decide how to feel. My brother and his goons put you here, but then you might have died, if they hadn't come for you.". "A simple call to 911 would have gotten me to the hospital. I don't owe them for anything. You, on the other hand, didn't have to come to my apartment to check on me." "It was my Christian duty," Gina said with a small simple smile. "Well, I thank you anyway. How is Sophia doing?" I asked. "She wanted to come with me. She isn't handling this very well." Gina said. "How about Nick and his associates?" I asked. "They are driving me crazy. Nick is absolute nuts. He goes around kicking the furniture. I was afraid someone from the motel might come to complain. If they had, Nick would have killed them." "Tell him to come see me, I think we need to talk." I said. "I don't think that would be a good idea. At least not until you heal a little," she said knowing what I had in mind. "Even then, it isn't likely you could do anything. It is my opinion that Nick will come with his men. I think he has decided, he should just leave well enough be. I think that it might be a good thing for you both if he did." "You are probably right. How's Sonny's knee?" I asked hoping for the worst. "I'm afraid, it is not as bad as you would like. He is spending a lot of time with it propped up and an ice bag. The doctors tell him not to walk on it for a while, but he won't need surgery." "Too bad, I must be losing something in my old age," I said. "Could we talk about something else?" she asked. "Sure, but I don't know much more about Sophia's attack." I said flatly. "I want to talk about John," she said. I noticed she showed no emotion at all. "My brother wants me to leave John. He wants me to take Sophia to my parent's home. I might do it. Would Sophia need to be here for your investigation. I know she would need to testify, but would she be needed before that?" "Yes, I am going to have to talk to her again. Maybe more than once." I said honestly. "My brother thinks, you don't really need her. He thinks we should all go home soon." "That is up to you. If Sophia leaves the area, the investigation will stall." I said hoping to change her mind. She nodded, "I think, we will stay until next week." She stood to leave. "I will call before we leave town." "At least do that for me." I asked. She turned back at the door to say quietly, "The hospital bill has been taken care of. There will be no questions when you leave. It was the least Nick could do." she said. "The very least," I agreed. I was getting antsy by the time Bobby showed up. "Hi. Mr. Mason, you're feeling better I see," he said. "Drop the Mr. and the cheerful bull, tell me what happened last night." I demanded. "Your girls didn't show. I got there at eight and stayed till eleven. They never showed, so I went home. I'm going back tonight. I hope I have better luck." he said. "Me too, at least I expect that you will." "The bartender had two black eyes and a swollen nose, you wouldn't know anything about that would you?" he asked. Obviously he thought body beautiful had put me here. "If that jerk had put me in the hospital, I would kill myself." I said. "He told me a man with an eye patch worked him over with a pipe. That sure does sound like you," he said smiling. "It wasn't a pipe and there must be hundreds of men with eye patches." I said with a grin. "He also led me to believe, you would be back to see him. I assumed he didn't know you were in the hospital." "Take my word for it. He doesn't know. I am going to have to get Thompson to go by there. Freeda has something for me. At least I hope she does." I said. "By the way where is Thompson?" "She was in the Press's office, last I heard. I think they were talking about you." he said with a smile. "No doubt," I agreed. "Well is there anything you need boss?" he asked. "I need for you to stop calling me boss." I said. "Can do, you want some candy or something?" he asked. "I would like a steak and a new mouth to chew it with." I replied. "Can't help you there. I am a poor working cop. I don't make the kind of money for a steak, I could run by McDonalds for you though." "You go do your job. Get me something on those girls tonight." I ordered. "Do my best boss," he said with a grin as he exited the room. I put up a fuss until I got some solid food for lunch. Chewing it, hurt like hell, but I managed it. It was well after noon before Thompson arrived. "You look like you feel better," she stated. "I actually hurt all over. They tell me that is a good sign." I replied. I waited a few seconds before I said, "Bobby tells me you were in a meet with the president. She say anything worth listening to?" I asked. "Well, she isn't coming down to kick your ass. Not that she couldn't right now. Do you really care about anything else." The words I had used about the chief were coming back to haunt me. "I guess not. So, are we anywhere new today?" I asked. "I went over Sophia's story from the initial interview and then, from the follow up. They were identical." She obviously saw no significance in the fact. I almost didn't explain to her. I did in the end, more to think out loud, than to inform her. "Don't you find that strange?" "Why should I?" she asked. "Come on Thompson, can you tell the same story exactly the same way, two times. Don't you think she would have remembered, or forgotten something at the second telling of it?" I asked. "I hadn't thought about it, but I guess you're right. Now that I think of it, the stories were exactly the same. Right down to the details, nothing added and nothing left out. So she is lying?" "Not necessarily, but I am going to have to talk to her before her mother takes her home." I said. "Is that about to happen?" Thompson asked. "Next week sometime, I really want to tie up a couple of loose ends before we talk to Sophia again." I said. The hippie doctor entered the room. "So Mr. Mason, I see you are doing better. You even ate solid food for lunch today. I guess you can get out of bed now." she said. "I wish you had told me, I was supposed to stay in bed," I said. "So you have already been up?" she asked. "I went to the bathroom this morning. Nobody told me I couldn't." I said. "If that is the case, you might as well start walking." "How about our deal Doc?" I asked. "If you don't have any problems tonight, you can leave in the morning after breakfast. That is, if you find someone to take care of you for a day or two." "That isn't going to be a problem," Thompson piped in before I could modify the order. "Okay, then tomorrow after breakfast. Assuming of course you have a good night." the doctor agreed. "I am going to leave a couple of prescriptions at the desk for you. I want you to fill them on the way home." "Can do, and if I don't see you again, thanks." "You are going to see me in the morning. You can't leave until I check you out." She said it as she turned to the door. "Mason, I brought you the cell phone. I also spoke to Bobby. I gave him the number, so that he could call after he gets home tonight." Thompson said. "Good for you kid," I said. "You are beginning to think like a cop." "So, what do I do now?" she asked. "Did Bonnie find anything in the records check? I mean the criminal check on all the boyfriends." "Nothing but parking tickets." "Then look in the locker and get my wallet. I want you to call Vette from this phone." I said handing her the cell. I'm not sure I can focus on the numbers." I explained. "Did you tell the Doctor you were having trouble seeing?" Thompson asked. "No, once my head stops pounding, I will be fine." I said. Thompson dialed the number then handed me the phone. I spoke with a detective who informed me that Vette was due in at three. I left a message with him. "Thompson when the Cat opens, I want you to talk to the bartender. The one with the tongue studs. I want to know if she remembered where she met John Doe." "Can do, how taking the photo spread to the commons?" she asked. "Sure, you can do that this afternoon. See if anyone can positively match any of the girls to Sophia? I'm pretty sure they can." "Are we getting anywhere Mason?" she asked. "Hell kid, I don't know." I said. I thought for a while. "Pam, how are you with tools?" "Like hammers and stuff?" she asked. "Like that," I replied. "Okay, I guess." "I was hoping you would tell me you were a master carpenter." I replied with as much of a smile as I could manage. "Dial up this number for me," I said, handing her another card. When she handed me the phone, I waited for an answer. "Mike, this is Mason. How you doing these days." "Fine," the metallic voice said. "Now, why the hell do you have a scrambler on your phone?" I asked. "Just testing it," he said in a normal voice. "Of course you are, I need a favor." I said. "You name it, I owe you one anyway." he said. He did indeed. Mike's kid had gotten into a spot of trouble with the Avery police a year before I blew out. The kid had changed a simple speeding ticket, into an assault charge. He went past the point of letting his mouth overload his ass. He took a swing at a cop. The cop pressed charges, just to cover his ass. Mike called me and I called the cop. The cop had kicked the kids ass, so he was satisfied. "Mason, if I drop the charges, the kid isn't going to hit me with a lawsuit is he?" the cop asked. "The kid can't afford a regular suit, let alone a lawsuit. Besides, I got his father's word. You bust his ass on the speeding and failing to stop for a blue, but let him walk on the assault." "So what do I get," he asked. "I won't tell the world about Janice Hopper." I replied. "Mason, you are a prick. If I do this Janice is off the table from now on." he demanded. "Done," I promised. The kid lost his driver's license for a year but otherwise, he got off clean. I expect he got his ass beat by his father, otherwise he got away with taking a swing at a cop. It probably sent the wrong message, but it got me the favor, I needed now. "Okay," Mike said. "What is it you want?" "I want to know what one of my neighbors is up to." I stated. "Where, when, and how?" he asked. I gave him the address and arranged for Thompson to meet him. I advised her to take a long walk while Mike did his thing. Thompson left the hospital immediately after the call. She had plenty to do that afternoon. I dozed most of the afternoon away. I was surprised to be awakened by Doctor Mitchell. "Mr. Mason," she said, waking me. "How are you doing? You look better." "I feel some better. I do hope this is a social visit. I'm getting awfully tired of fighting with you." I said slightly less than half asleep. "I wish it could be a social visit. I hate to bring this up while you are in the hospital. Especially, since it may have been my fault you are here. I never should have let John Evans push me into getting you involved. I'm afraid, I am going to have to revoke your credentials. I couldn't live with it, if you or one of my officer's were to be killed." she said. I didn't believe a word of it. There had somehow been a power shift. Somebody more powerful than John Evans was twisting her arm. Even through my unfocused eye she looked frightened. The question was, who was scaring the hell out of the Doc. It must be some pressure since John Evans was likely to have her ass on a plate for this. That is unless Mrs. Evan's brother had decided to handle the investigation personally. He was capable of putting the fear of god into people, much more effectively than John Evans. He was probably also able to stop John from doing anything to Mattie Mitchell. If Nick got to the kid before me, there would be no reason for John to go after Mattie. She was in the perfect position, at least for now. If Nick couldn't find the kid, then it was a toss up. Nick couldn't know as much as me. The meeting with Thompson this morning, she must have bled Pam for information. Pam couldn't tell her much, unless she knew about my talk with the bartenders. Damn, I had mention that after the meeting. Of course, Pam could be reporting everything to the Doc. After all, she didn't want to lose her job. "Doc, you are making a big mistake." I said. "I think I can live, with you out of my life.". "Can you live with the death of that kid?" I asked. "You mean your rapist. I can handle that to." "What if he isn't a rapist., can you live with it. What if, I prove he didn't rape Sophia." I asked. "What do you mean? You think you have the wrong picture?" she asked. "I didn't say that. I asked if you could live with fingering the wrong man." "What are you talking about?". "I think Nick got to you. I think you bled information from Thompson. I think you set Nick on the bartender. I think she is either talking or hurting as we speak. It's going to be a race between Nick and the Cops. You better hope the cops get the kid first. If Nick get him, the kid is dead." "So what?" she asked. "I'm not sure he raped Sophia. Nick isn't going to listen to him. The kid is going to die, because you caved in. I don't need your badge and I don't need Evans' money. I am going to figure this out just because I can. When I do, I am going to the press. I am going to accuse you of conspiracy to commit murder." I said angrily. "What are you talking about?" she asked desperately. "You provided information, you knew would lead to the death of another human being. You are going to be as guilty as Nick." She fled the room. I was glad to be alone. The phone stayed quiet until five thirty. "Mason, I'm sorry it took so long to return your call. We have been looking for your John Doe. He has a name by the way. It is Emery Pike, probably an alias. Anyway, we are looking for where he lives right now. Nobody seems to know." "Vette, I am going to level with you. I got the information from the bartender at the Cat. Get over there or to her house. I think, she maybe in some danger." "From who? Emery is not after her." Vette said. "Get somebody on her, and I will explain. Get a car to her house or the club, where ever she is. Then come by here, I will explain it all to you." I promised. "I'll get a car on her, I should be there in twenty minutes," she promised. I waited impatiently for the twenty minutes to pass. Then I waited for another hour to pass. I was just about to start calling Vette again, when she walked into the room. I forced myself to hold off the questions while she flopped down in a chair. I waited long enough to make sure she wanted me to ask. "So where have you been?" I asked. I sent a car to Freeda's house, after calling the club. Freeda didn't show up on time for work today. The car called for backup, by the time I got there it was all over. The patrolman walked into a rather unorthodox interrogation. It was being conducted by some rather nasty Yankees. We now have one of them in our little jail. The other is down in the emergency room. I have no idea how he got his knee hurt, but that is the least of his worries. He has a bullet through a lung. They were hooking him to a breathing machine, when I left," she said with a nod. "How is Freeda?" I asked. "She is fine, a little the worse because she wears too much jewelry. The Yankees pulled a little of it off her. It would have been better if they had removed the clips first. Tore hell out of her ear, and a few other unmentionable places." Vette explained. "Did she remember where our man lived?" I asked. "If she had, she might have saved at least one of her nipples. I'm afraid she is useless as a witness. You know the really strange thing. One of the officers told the man we shot that he was going to the hospital. The officer thought he was going to cry. He actually begged us not to take him to the same hospital as you." "I don't suppose he told you, who his boss is?" I asked ignoring her questioning look. "No, I don't suppose you feel up to asking him?" "I think so, is he in a room yet?" "Probably in ten or twenty minutes, so you look a little better today," she said. "Good of you to notice, I think I am going home tomorrow." I said. "Got anybody to cook for you?" she asked. "I thought I did, but now I doubt it." I said. "I can't cook, but I order a mean pizza," she volunteered. "I'll let you know." I promised. Time passed slowly until her cell phone rang. It seemed to return to normal as I leaned on her while walking to the elevator. We found Sonny's room on the floor below mine. The guard on the door recognized Vette. He passed us through without any questions. Vette held the door while I walked, propped against her, into the room. "Hi Sonny," I said recognizing the man laying on the bed. He didn't look happy to see me. "It seems the worm has turned." I added. "Sonny, do you know Mr. Mason?" Vette asked. We waited but Sonny didn't answer. A noticeable bead of sweat broke out on his forehead. "Sonny, what was that Nick said, 'Next time we ask, he's gonna answer.' He was talking about me but I think it applies to you. I came to get either a statement, or a death bed declaration. It is your choice," I said it moving the plug on the respirator. Vette why don't you start your tape recorder. Keep your finger on the button. If Sonny has a memory loss, I am going to make it permanent. Now Sonny you just mumble to the nice lady." I told him. The tube made it hard for him, so Vette led him through the questions. In the end Sonny gave up Nick. There probably wasn't much Vette could do with the statement, but it felt good to hear him say it. Sonny was pretty much a dead man. Nick wasn't going to like the Greenpoint Jail. Thompson actually had the balls to show up at the hospital. "I checked at the commons, everybody ID the two friends. Looks like there is something between them." "I would say, some kind of dirty little secret." I agreed. "It doesn't matter any more. I have been fired by Dr. Mitchell. You can go back to work for the chief tomorrow." She saw it in my eyes. "You know, don't you?" she asked. "More than you," I said. "I had to give her an update. She is my boss. When she asked directly, I had no choice." Pam was trying to weasel out of it. Vette sat quietly in the corner not speaking. "Did you have to call her, after I told you about Freeda?" I asked. "It was part of the same thing." she said "How about Mike, did you tell her about him?" "No, it wasn't part of what she ordered me to tell her." "If you tell her now, knowing she is a leak to the mob, I am going to have your ass fried for conspiracy to commit murder." "I understand, but I didn't know it at the time. I was just covering my ass." "You almost got Freeda killed. My partners, don't sell me out." I said. "Go on home, I have no more use for you." When she had gone, Vette asked. "Do I go after Doctor Mitchell on a conspiracy charge." "Do you want to?" I asked. "Bet your fat ass I do," she said. "Then do it. I will testify and so will Thompson. I doubt you can prove a link to Nick. Maybe Gina could help, but she won't." I said. "So, she gets away with it." "It looks to me like she does," I replied. "Sometimes I hate this job," she said. "I remember the feeling," I said with a smile. "So be around your phone in the morning. I am going to need a ride home." "You got it. By the way, there is a lot more to this isn't there?" she asked. "Honest to God Vette, I don't know. Maybe we can find out," I suggested. "Oh we are. I have absolutely no doubt about it," she said. "What else you got cooking Mason?" "Who me?" I asked. "Yeah, you don't look as upset as you should. You got something else working don't you?" she asked. "I got something, but I don't think there is anything to it." I said. "You going to tell me?" she asked. "I am, tomorrow or maybe the next day." I offered. "Well I am going home. I have had a long tough day. You want a guard on the door. That Sonny looked pissed," she said with a laugh. "I'm no longer a player. Nobody is going to bother me. You watch your ass though." I said. "I would rather have you watch it," she stated. "Literally or figuratively?" I asked. "Either," she paused then said, "Both," as she walked out the door. I expected to hear from Bobby but never did. I fell asleep waiting to hear. I met the doctor the next morning still waiting to hear. I called Vette to drive me home. I still hadn't heard from Bobby. I even had Vette drive me by his house. His car wasn't in the drive. I didn't explain to her, but I was worried. At home, Vette and I struggled up the stairs. It is a bitch to climb stairs with broken ribs. When I entered the house, the best I could do was fall on the sofa. After a brief rest, Vette went into the kitchen. She explained, though she couldn't cook, she could make a decent cup of coffee. By lunch, I was so worried about Bobby, I almost explained it all the Vette. She could at least get the cops to look for him. I decided to hold off a few more hours. Fortunately the hook up of Mike's toy was easy. Just plug it into the power strip, then attach a cord to the VCR. I would, at last, have something interesting on TV, I hoped. "Should I ask, what the hell you are doing," Vette asked. "No, but if you are still here tonight. We might have some first rate TV," I suggested. "Illegal?" she asked. "Yes," I answered. "Best kind," she said with a smile. An hour later it was lunch time. Vette knew a place, she swore made the best hot dogs in town. I love a good hot dog, so I let her go out for them. After the trip we were going to be holed up. Answering the door was not even an option. Vette stopped by the drugstore and radio shack on her way to the Dog House. Vette was right, the dogs were great. I had three while she only had two. I went into the bathroom, every time I tried to call Bobby. I wanted to place dead quiet and dark. We watched TV behind the closed drapes. Fortunately someone had left drapes or there would have been no TV outside the bathroom. Even with the drapes, we still had to listen to it through cheap drugstore ear phones. The TV had an outlet, with the aid of the outlet doubler from Radio Shack, we each had a set of earphones. Dinner was a cold sandwich. Vette and I, took this blackout thing seriously. At first I had to force her into it, but after a while the adventure got to her. She put her mouth close to my ear every time she wanted to say something. It was kind of fun. We heard the first footsteps on the stairs early. It was probably no more than four. After that noises came from the apartment so I switched to the closed circuit TV. Vette and I watched while Virginia and another woman, prepared sandwiches and filled a punch bowl. It was not interesting at all. We switched back to HBO after only a few minutes. Vette recognized Virginia, but not the other woman. The noise continued in the apartment without much change until, the next group began to arrive, around ten. By then, it was dark enough for them not to be recognized. That is unless you had a camera in the apartment. Even better if you had three. When the guest started to arrive Vette and I split our time between the TV movie and the party next door. I was surprised that the noise level was not higher. I heard them moving about, but not a lot of laughter. The TV showed four or five people in addition to Virginia and her helper, milling about. Another group arrived around eleven. "It isn't much of a party," Vette suggested. "Not like any I ever attended." I agreed. "The conversations are so quiet, I can't make them out." I said in a whisper. Vette just shrugged. The largest and last group arrived just before midnight. I didn't recognize any of them for a while. I began to pick out faces I had seem, but didn't know. Vette seemed to be in pretty much the same boat. Then I saw her. I immediately turned on the VCR. "What?" Vette asked. "The woman in the corner. That is our good Doctor Mitchell. I had no idea she was a friend of Virginia's." "Why would she come here? I mean she knows you live next door." "I don't know that she does. I don't have any paperwork at the school. She might never have been told where I live. Virginia would have no reason to mention it to her. Hell she might think, I am still in the hospital." The noise level had risen enough for Vette to slip into the kitchen for iced tea. She brought back a couple of pills for me. "So what are they going to do?" she asked in a dead whisper. "Got me, I expected to see our college girls." I answered. "You what?" Vette asked. "I expected to see two of our three girl scouts. It figured that they were up to something. With Virginia mixed up heavily with the college kids, I thought they might be into some kind of Satanism or something." I whispered. "Now, who watches too much TV?" Vette asked. I nodded in agreement. If the Doc hadn't shown up, or if I wasn't just plain curious, I might have turned the cameras off. I didn't. Vette and I got to watch a ceremony of some kind. Sometime after midnight, the guests all got naked and stood in a circle. They chanted for a while then a couple entered the circle. It wasn't a good view for us, but we got the idea. They were making love in front of the others. "Mason, I hate this." Vette said. "What snooping?" I asked. "No, watching somebody else doing what I want to do," she said. "Sorry, I can't help you." "I know," she said sadly. The ceremony didn't have any effect on me. At least not like it did on Vette. I actually fell asleep. Vette on the other hand watched it all. She woke me at four, when the apartment next door was finally empty. "I think I better go home," she whispered. "Okay," I said. "Did anything interesting ever happen?" "The couple in the middle got replaced by others after a while. Your girl friend even got into the act." "The Doc, I hope we got that on tape." I said. "You did, but we can't use it for anything. It was an illegal surveillance. As a matter of fact, I should arrest you for making it." "I did it for a good reason. The net just caught the wrong fish." I explained. "Get rid of the tape, after you watch it. Don't use it to get even with the Doc." Vette ordered. "Will do," I promised. "Watch yourself, those people don't look dangerous, but you never know." she said. I spent Sunday in a funk. I was out of ideas. I tried to call Bobby all day. He never answered his phone. I was really getting worried about him. I felt as though something was about to happen. I just didn't know what. I was also in no position to make it happen. I couldn't help or hurt anyone. I couldn't even get up and down the stairs. I was more or less a prisoner in my apartment. I was pretty close to being around the bend, when someone knocked on my door. I opened the door to find Gina Evans in my hall. "Hi Mason, I came to see how you are doing." "Do I need to search your handbag?" I asked it only half kidding. "No," she laughed. "You mean, because of Nick?" "Something like that," I said. "Nick isn't in any trouble. At least, not any real trouble. He is mad as hell, but he knows better than to come after you. He can beat the rap on the bartender without even breathing hard. You, would be another matter all together." "Are you kidding, I am no more than a fly on the wall to Nick," I said. "True, but you are my fly on the wall." She said it with a secret smile. "I don't think, I even want to know what that means." "Don't worry, I explained to Nick that if he harmed you, every cop in the state would be at his door. There would be no alibi good enough. I might even testify against him myself, after all you were only trying to help my little girl." "This thing is getting complicated," I admitted. "Mason, you should really drop this now. We all understand that you are in no condition to continue. John doesn't expect you to continue." "It sounds like good advice to me," I agreed. "Are you going to stop looking?" she asked. "You bet I am. I'm not totally nuts." I stated it with honesty. At least the last part was honest. "Good, have you had lunch?" she asked. "No, I was about to fix something." I said. "Let me, I am really quite a good cook." Gina said. "Sure, I don't have a lot to work with though." I informed her. After a five minute look, she agreed. "I am going to the store. You have nothing in this house to eat. I will return in one hour, then I will cook you a decent meal." While she was gone, I finally got in touch with Bobby. He told me he had been home since Saturday around noon. He hadn't been answering his phone. The chief had forbidden him to talk to me. I almost had to beg to get him to fill me in. According to Bobby, it was no problem to get picked up by the two women. He followed them to a house in the country. He was sure he could find it again. After a few more beers he lost track of what was happening to him. He wasn't real sure even now. "I think they drugged me Mason," he said. "Why the hell would they drug you Bobby?. I don't think they find too many men, who would refuse them." I asked. "All I know for sure is that they were gone when I woke up Saturday morning. My car was still outside but they were no where to be found." "Come on Bobby, the story you are telling me is a lot like a rape story. I doubt that two college girls raped you." I said. "That's another reason I didn't call. It all sounds so unbelievable," he said. "Look Bobby, I have company right now. Why don't I meet you tomorrow and we can take a look at the house." I suggested. "I don't go in until eight tomorrow night. How about we meet at ten in the morning?" he suggested. "Good, could you come by here. I still can't drive my truck." I said. "Sure, ten in front of your apartment," he agreed. After the call from Bobby, I tried to figure out exactly what the hell it all meant. I had a really bad feeling about all of this. Gina returned before I worried myself to death. I wasn't in a real good mood but I pretended for her benefit. She actually was a good cook. It took her three hours to fix lunch but it was worth the wait. She brought a bottle of wine, I had none of it. I watched her drink all the wine alone. "You know Mason, I should have married someone like you. Someone with a spine." "I don't know, John seems like a pretty good guy." I said trying to defend him. "Sure, you know what?" "No what?" "If Nick had asked him to get into that car. He would have gone meek as a lamb." "Well, John didn't spend two days in a hospital either." "That isn't the point. He would have been terrified." "I don't know, probably no more than I was," I said. Gina was rambling. "You know what else?" "No what else?" "Nicky likes you. Even though you tried to put him in jail, he likes you. You know why?" "No why does Nicky like me?" I asked not really caring. "Because you didn't rat him out. You were after him for what he did to that girl. Which wouldn't have happened, if he had listened to me." "I told him to leave you alone. You would find the man, then he could kill the asshole." she said. "Not Nicky, he's got to be the big shot. You would have found him, wouldn't you." "I'm still going to find him. I know for sure now, I am going to be the one who finds the boy who attacked Sophia." I said. "That wouldn't be a good idea. You promised, you would stop looking." she said. "I know but I am a God awful liar." I said. "If you drop this, I will sleep with you." "Why do you want me to drop it Gina?" I asked. "I don't want you to get hurt any more," she said. "Don't worry, when I find him I don't care if Nicky kills him or not," I said. "Okay, then you can look for him," she said with a drunken giggle. "If Nick can kill him, then I will sleep with you." "Is Nick at the motel?" I asked. "Sure, staying right beside me." she giggled again. I used my phone to call Nick. "Nick this is Mason, you better come get your sister. She had a little too much wine with lunch. And Nick, leave the body guards at home. I wouldn't want them to see your sister like this. I am no threat to you." I was surprised when Nick showed up a few minutes later. "Mason," he said as he entered my apartment. "Is Gina all right?" "Sure Nick, she is fine." I said pointing to the sleeping Gina. Nick softened. "She gets like this once in a while. I can't blame her, married to that bible thumped and all." "Not a problem," I said. "Mason, I think you should know, I am going to kill that kid. If you get in my way, I am going to kill you too." "I'll keep that in mind." I said as he lifted his sister. "I appreciate you calling, but don't get between me and that kid." "I don't intend to." I replied. It was after six o'clock when I found myself alone again. I had another visitor. I opened the door to Virginia. "I hope you don't mind. I wanted to tell you, how much I appreciated you not bothering my guest. It was damned nice of you to leave us alone." she said. "Virginia, are you a witch?" I asked. "Of course, everyone knows that," she answered. "That was some kind of meeting wasn't it?" I asked. "That, I can't tell you. Everybody isn't as open as I am." "Okay, try this, are there any of the college people involved in this?" I asked. "Some," she answered. "Is this going somewhere?" she asked. "Virginia, are there any of the students involved with you." I asked. "You know, don't you?" she asked. "Some of it. I need to know more." I said. "Not from me, I think I'll be leaving." she said moving to the door. "I'm going to find out you know." I said, not at all sure that I would. I watched the video tape until I fell asleep. I didn't dream that night, probably because I wasn't as heavily drugged. I was able to put up a better fight against the dreams. After a pot of coffee and two scrambled eggs, I went outside to wait for Bobby. His car was old enough to be comfortable. I struggled to get in the car, even though it was large enough. The pain in my head had pretty much gone but the pain of the broken ribs was in some ways worse. "Good morning Mason," Bobby said. "I sure hope this doesn't get my ass fired." "Me to Bobby, I want you to know I appreciate your doing this." I said. "Are you kidding, I want to find out what the hell is going on. I am having dreams about Friday night. At least, I hope they are dreams.". "What kind of dreams," I asked. "Crazy stuff, like a bed filled with people. Doing it with several women one after another. I don't know man, some of it was really sick. That part, I would just as soon not talk about." "No problem," I said. I thought then, what he suspected, they weren't dreams at all. The drive took almost an hour. When we arrived on a dirt road, Bobby turned into a drive only to pull out again. It took him two more tries to find the right drive. He followed it almost a half mile. The drive ended abruptly in the yard of an old farm house. Probably a tenant farmer's house. He led me onto the porch, "Watch yourself Mason, there are a couple of weak boards in the porch." Bobby advised. The door was locked, neither Bobby nor I had any qualms about breaking into the house. Actually it took a strong kick nothing more. In what must have once been the living room, I found the remains of several candles. Most were white, one thick one was black. In my dream, that coffee table had a cover. It sat right here," Bobby said standing by an inside wall. "In that room there is a bed." I followed him into the room and found a unmade bed. There were blood spots on the bed. "Is that your blood kid," I asked pointing to the spots. "It could be Mason," he said. I have a few bite marks on me." "Well, I think I know why. Now let's see if we can figure out the rest of it." I said. "The rest of what?" Bobby asked. "Let's take a look outside." We walked out the rear door of the house. It hadn't rained in a couple of weeks. The drag marks were still in the soft earth at the rear of the house. They disappeared after a few yards but the direction was plain. Bobby and I walked in the direction indicated. We found the mound of fresh earth just inside the tree line. "Unless I miss my guess, we have just found Elmer Pike." I said. Let's get back to the car. We are going to have to call the Sheriff. Better yet, let's call Vette. She can notify the Sheriff. Thirty minutes later, we led Vette and a deputy sheriff to the spot. Neither Vette nor I participated in the digging. We stood smoking and talking in hushed voices while the deputy and Bobby dug up Elmer Pike's body. Vette saw the naked body, then said, "Mason, you have to give it all to me now." "Hell, all I can tell you is what I think." I said. "Let's get back to town before we do it. My ribs hurt like hell." The interrogation room of the Greenpoint police station is not much larger than the principles office in a elementary school. That's because the police station was once a school. I sat at the table while I gave it all to Vette. I told her everything I knew. Then everything I suspected. When I finished, she said, "I guess we will find out, how close you had it." "How about taking me home before you begin celebrating?" I asked She seemed to notice for the first time that I was in real pain. I guess I was sweating and pretty pale looking. "Sure Mason, my god why didn't you say something earlier. Do you want to go by the hospital instead." "No I just need to get some pills, then some rest. After that I will be fine." I said. "Let's go now before anything else comes up," she suggested. We made it all the way to the street in front of my house before she got the radio call. The call requested her to return to the station with me in tow. It seemed the Sheriff had some questions for us. I expected they had gotten tired of questioning Bobby. "You up to it?" Vette asked. "I could tell them, you are not available. It would probably buy you an hour or two." "What then a sheriff's car pulls up? No thanks, I would just as soon do this at your office. How about going up to my apartment. My pills are on the kitchen cabinet. I hate to ask, but those stairs are real killers on broken ribs." She left me alone in the car while she went for the pills. I guess it was fortunate she had not been able to park closer to the house. I watched her disappear into the house, The first strange thing I heard was an explosion, not really all that loud. Then the glass blew out of my empty room. After which a fire ball rose from the top floor of the building. The top of the house was immediately engulfed in flames. I jumped from the car before I even thought. I tried to get into the side door, but the heat was unbelievable. I could do nothing more than stand in the street and watch as Vette and my apartment went up in flames. I didn't think there would be any doubt, this one was set. I began to shake. The shaking caused the pain in my ribs to become unbearable. I felt faint, then began to throw up all over the street. I was in shock, I knew that in less than a minute, I would faint, if I didn't sit down. I sat in the middle of the street. I guess it was fortunate that no one was home at either the musician or the computer nerd's apartments. I didn't check, because I didn't even think about them. I was still sitting in the street in shock, when the fire trucks and the cops arrived. I managed to move out of their way. I explained on the scene at least a dozen times what had happened. Some cop drove me to the station, where I was interrogated by half a dozen different policemen. Each one read me the Miranda. In the end they allowed me to go home. The problem was, I had no home. One of the cops gave me a ride to a motel. I checked in under another name. The cops explained to the desk clerk that they wanted to stash me. I collapsed onto the bed. I was in a great deal of pain, The aspirin the cop allowed me to purchase on the way home did little to help. I waited an hour then added Tylenol to the mix. After an hour the pain eased. I couldn't have slept, even without the pain. I lay awake trying to figure, who would want me dead and why. I wasn't ready to think about Vette just yet. There could only be one reason. No one knew we had found Elmer's body yet. Somebody thought that by killing me, they could side track the investigation. My first choice was Nick. Why wasn't too hard to figure, one of the girls recognized Bobby and called Sophia. She went to Nick, then came clean. Nick figured, if I were gone, the secret of Elmer Pike might not be discovered. It held together pretty well. It just wasn't great, even in my confused mind. Could Gina have done it? Sure, she would have the same motive. Hell even John Evans had exactly the same motive. Of them all, Nick was my choice. He would be the most familiar with murder. Martin struck me as a possible. He was about to lose his job. He probably blamed me for it. He most likely had the knowledge to build a bomb. Most cops know how to make a simple bomb. Doctor Mitchell, she was into the same crap as the girls. Probably on a higher level. She could have done it. The internet is filled with information on making bombs. I am sure she could find out how to do it. Probably not her. She didn't know, that I knew she was involved. Thompson had been inside the apartment, she could have learned to build bomb in the Marines. Why would she do it? I had no idea. I doubted, she had taken my sending her away very hard. It all went round and round in my head. I finally swallowed two more aspirin and two more Tylenol then fell asleep. The pounding on my door the next morning woke me. I looked out to see a man in a cheap suit. I knew he was a cop because there was a sheriff's deputy with him. When I opened the door, they barged right in. "We need to talk," the man in the suit said. "I suppose so," I answered. "So who blew up your apartment?" he asked. "I really have no idea," I answered truthfully. "I hear you are knee deep in this Satanism crap." he said. "Who the hell are you anyway?" I asked. "Chief Deputy Sykes," he said not holding out his hand. "I need a cup of coffee and a cigarette, before I even try to figure this out. Why don't we all ride to a restaurant somewhere?" I suggested. "Sure, why not. I don't expect there is any need trying to scare you." the man in the suit said. "I doubt it seriously," I replied. "Come on, we can get you some coffee and then we can talk." he suggested. Patrol cars had changed a lot, since I had last been in one. The county car, in which I rode that morning, had a video camera and a computer. The latest technology, I thought to myself. Still trying to avoid thinking of Vette. "You got lucky last night Mason," the suit said. "Yeah," was my reply. "I was told that you and the female cop go back to Avery. You didn't have any reason to 'do her' did you?" he asked. "I went through this all last night at the police station. I had no reason to harm her. We didn't have that kind of history." I said. I knew it was a lie, but no one else did. "So we have to assume, it was meant for you. Like I said you got lucky." "I don't feel real lucky right now. I hurt all over and a good friend just got blown to hell. I'm sure somebody wants me dead. I don't see how I could feel lucky, just yet." I answered. "So, who is the somebody who wants you dead?" the suit asked. "I tried to figure that out last night. I don't have the slightest idea. Are you working on the Elmer Pike murder?" I asked. "I am," he said. "My guess is, this is somehow connected to Elmer's murder." I said. "How do you figure?" he asked. "Somebody who knew they had been blown, but who didn't know that the body had been found. They might have mistakenly thought that the body wouldn't be found, if they got rid of me. You know, get me before I went looking for the body." I said. "It makes some sense, but not a whole lot. The way I figure it. Elmer got tough with the Evans girl. One of the others hit him on the head." "Sounds right, have you brought any of them in yet?" I asked. "We thought we would wait till we talked to you. I'm afraid, we are still way behind you on this. You seem to be the only one who knows it all. I mean except for the people who were there." "I wouldn't try Sophia until I talked to the others." I advised. "Why is that?" he asked. "You do know that her uncle is familiar with the legal system?" I asked. "Yankee Mafia, or something?" Sykes asked. "Not or something, that's it exactly. You can bet your ass, he will get her a lawyer. If he doesn't have one already." "Do you think her uncle planted the bomb?" "He is capable of it. But then, it doesn't take much stomach to plant a bomb." I said. "Yeah, it ain't like looking the victim in the eye." he agreed. "So where would you start? With one of the others?" "I sure would, you have an obligation to talk to them. I just wouldn't expect much from them. They tend to tell exactly the same story. I don't know about this though. They may be pretty scared." "Would you like to be there?" he asked. "Oh yeah," I said. "You better get something to eat then. This is likely to be a long day." Mary Anne Montgomery was brought in first. I had to give it to the suit. He had her handcuffed. It was probably illegal but it sure as hell had her worried. That is, if her darting eyes were any indication. I watched her walk into the sheriff's interrogation room. It was even smaller than the city police interrogation room. Mary Anne was seated at a table about the size of a card table. She looked around the empty room. The deputy had dropped her in the room, then quickly left. "We let her sit for a while, when she looks nervous enough to climb the walls, then we go talk to her. Would you like to start?" the suit asked me. "Suits the hell out of me. By the way, what is your name again chief deputy. I'm afraid I wasn't listening real close." I admitted. "Roy, Roy Sykes," he said a smile while extending his hand. I took his hand. "So let's go scare hell out of this bitchette." I said. "Sounds like a plan to me," Roy said. He opened the door, then held it open while I walked quickly into the room. "Miss Montgomery, I think you know Chief Mason." She nodded. "My name is chief detective Sykes. I am here to make sure your rights are not abused. Do you understand?" he asked. "Yes sir," she answered, not maintaining eye contact with either of us. Sykes switched on a small tape recorder. "This is a record of the interrogation of Mary Anne Montgomery by chief detective Sykes and chief Mason. First of all Mary Anne let me advise you that you have a right to an attorney and to have him present during any questioning. If you can not afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Also anything you say, with or without an attorney, can and will be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand your rights." "Yes," Mary Anne answered. "Good then sign this form. It simply says that I read your rights to you. You may ask for an attorney at anytime. Now let's get this over with, so you can go home." he said. "Mason, I think you had some questions for Mary Anne." Roy said. He might have been a county cop but he was smooth. I on the other hand was blunt. "Mary Anne, you are in big trouble. We found Elmer Pike's body. We have your prints all over the house where he was killed. We have the murder weapon and I expect to find your prints on it. So what have you got to say for yourself?" "I didn't kill anybody. I never heard of Elmer Pike." she said her voice shaking. She had a script. We had just gone through the opening lines of it. "Okay Mary Anne, why don't you tell us about the house? Tell me why your finger prints are all over it." "The Sisters use the house for ceremonies. You know like installations that kind of thing." "What kind of ceremony was it with Bobby Tuttle?" I asked. "Who is Bobby Tuttle?" she asked. "One of my cops. I planted him at the Cat. You and Betty Lisk picked him up. You took him to that house." I said. "We took a man there. I didn't know he was a cop. Sure we took him there and we had sex with him. That isn't against the law, is it?" she asked. "Not unless you drugged him first." "We didn't drug anyone," she said in a shaky voice. "Bobby had a blood test Saturday morning. The results will be in any time now. When I have them, I am going to have your ass charged with Rape and Murder. Not to mention assault by biting him." I replied. "Hold it Mason," Sykes said. "She may not really have done anything. She might have been an innocent bystander. Sure, maybe they slipped your man a mickey, but what the hell, no red blooded man would turn down a beautiful woman like Mary Anne. We are never going to make a rape charge fly." "Sure we can, we can tie it to why Elmer was killed. They did the same thing to him. The autopsy will prove it. Mary Anne, how long have you girls been taking men to the house?" I asked. "That house or any house," she asked. She was beginning to crack. "Any house?" "The Sisters have been doing it, long before I came. They have been taking men for years." "How many years?" Roy asked. "I don't know. I know there are pictures of women with blood on their mouth's that go back fifty or more years," she said. I saw the look in Sykes eye and knew he wanted to ask. I shook my head. "So the sisters have been doing this for years. You guys should have it down pretty good. What happened with Elmer?" "I don't know, maybe he took too many drugs. Maybe that's why the potion wore off so soon." "So, what did he do, when if wore off?" I asked. "Sophia was drinking when he came around. He broke the ribbons we used to tie him up. He began beating Sophia. Betty had to stop him. He would have killed her." "What did Betty do?" I asked. "She hit him with the candle holder. She hit him more than once." "Something like a dozen times, I would suspect." I said. "There was blood everywhere, we cleaned up the blood. We buried the sheets with the man." "Whose idea was it for Sophia to claim a rape?" Roy asked. "Betty, she said that we had to explain Sophia's bruises. There was no other way. We also figured to finger Elmer for it. If you couldn't find him, everything would just go away." "You guys didn't think of the rape scam on the spot. How did you come up with that?" I asked. "Every situation you can think of is covered in the book," she said as if I should already know that. "What book is that Mary?" Sykes. "The book of the law. You know the one from the house," she said. I took a chance. "So how many others are buried out there?" I asked. "God, I don't know," she said. Roy's eyes grew wide. "I think we need to let Mary compose herself." I followed him from the room. "How the hell did you know there were others?" he asked. "And what's this about a book. Did you steal a book from the crime scene?" "Hell no, and before you ask, I don't know if there are any more bodies out there. Mary Ann said 'I don't know.' Which could have meant she didn't know how many or if there were others. Let's go back in and ask her." I suggested. "Let's talk about this first," Roy said. "I want to know how you plan to proceed. What are you going to ask her?" "I think we need to know about that book. We need to know who wrote the book. They may have had more help figuring out the details. There maybe somebody else involved in this mess" "Okay, let me go at her first," Roy demanded. "Well Mary Anne, I'm glad you explained all that to us. It sounds to me, like you were just a witness. Tell me what is all this about blood?" "I'm not supposed to tell," she answered. We had given her time to collect herself. It had been a mistake, I knew it at the time. We were going to have to start all over again. "That's up to you, of course, but accessory to murder is still a pretty heavy charge." I said. "But it was an accident," she said. "No honey, one blow or maybe two, is an accident, a dozen or more makes it murder. Hiding the body was the clincher. There is no way you can justify that." Roy said. He was practically telling her to get a lawyer. Before she could ask, I jumped in. "Mary Anne, you still have a chance here. You can be the one the DA grants immunity. Tell us everything. If you do you may still walk away clean." I said. "Mary Anne," Roy said. "Mr. Mason didn't promise you immunity. Only the district attorney can do that. If you tell us everything, we can ask him, but we can't guarantee it." "I think I should talk to a lawyer. I want to call my father." "That is your choice," Roy said standing to leave. "If you do that Mary Anne, then it is out of our hands. If Betty or Sophia tells us a different story, then we are going to have to assume it is the truth. Do you still want a lawyer?" I asked. "Mason, she asked for a lawyer, we have to get her one." Roy said. "Come on, we are through here until she gets an attorney. I was shaking so hard with my anger, I was afraid to speak. I knew the score, he had intentionally let her off the hook, yet again. In the hall I spoke to Roy, I kept my voice low so as not to be overheard. "What the hell are you doing. You just let her off the hook." I said menacingly. "I know what I'm doing. It's my case," he said. "I'm glad you know, how about letting me in on it?" I asked. "I don't think we need you anymore," He said walking away. He left me not only out of the case, but with no way back to the motel. I got a taxi back to my burned apartment. I stood on the street to look into the charred building. The firemen had saved the downstairs structure, but everything inside would have been ruined. In my case, it wasn't even an issue, everything was blown to hell. I stood for a long time trying to remember Vette from Avery. I couldn't. All I could see, was her going into my building. Then I relived the explosion yet again. With a little luck she never knew what hit her. I forced myself to drive the truck, even though it caused me tremendous pain. I had been popping aspirin and Tylenol all morning. I made it to the motel, then immediately fell asleep on the motel bed. I slept fitfully until I awoke at ten that night. There was nothing to do, so I slept again. Hunger woke me before sun up. I drove my old truck to an all-night diner. The food wasn't especially good, but it was filling. The coffee got my brain to work again. The news of the police investigation would be all over the mostly empty campus by now. It figured that I wouldn't be a target any longer. I stayed in the diner as long as I could, then drove to the motel. I took yet another nap. Pain has a way of making me sleepy. When I awoke it was after nine. The first call I made was to my insurance agent. I thought the secretary was going to have a heart attack. I explained what had happened, then agreed to get her copies of all my canceled checks. I could detail all my purchases with them. I explained, I had a completed new inventory, at least I did before someone blew hell out of it. The canceled checks would be enough for the insurance company, she assured me. I drove to the K-Mart again, for clothes this time. I decided not to buy much of anything until I figured out who had planted the bomb. No sense going through all that crap again. When I arrived back at the motel, I showered, dressed, then lifted the phone. The problem then was who to call. Everyone, except Bobby, was a suspect. I finally called Bobby to make sure he was okay. He assured me that he was fine. He agreed to be especially careful for the next few days. His testimony was vital to convict any of the women. He was, therefore as much a target as me. I was stuck, I couldn't get the girls interview tapes or notes. I had no authority to question them myself. I didn't have a clue as to what I should do next. With nothing better to do, I called Virginia's house. She was understandably angry. "You got a lot of nerve calling me after you blew up my house." she said. "Technically, I didn't blow it up." "Maybe not, but if you hadn't been living there, I would have a house. Instead I am now the owner of a pile of rubble. That place looks like something from the six o'clock news. As a matter of fact, it was on the six o'clock news." "I'm really sorry about your house. I called because I need some help. I don't suppose you would be interested in talking to me about your friends." "Are you out of your mind? I have nothing to say about anyone." "How about a little background information. Surely you wouldn't object to telling me about how this all got started. You don't have to name any names." I said. "You go to hell Mason," she said slamming the phone in my ear. "Probably," I said into the dead phone. I didn't expect to find anyone else to talk to me either. I gave some thought to the Doc, but decided against it. She might be suspect number three. I didn't want to let her know that I knew about her hobby. At least not just yet. I needed a new place to live. I decided to give it some thought, if not action. I walked to the desk for a newspaper. "Mr. Mason? the clerk asked. "Did your friend find you?" "Which friends is that?" I asked getting worried. "A rather nice looking young lady came by around six," he said. "I was pretty much out of it at six. Did she leave a name?" I asked. "No, she just said she would come back later." he informed me. More trouble, I thought. The nice looking young lady could have been almost anyone. I had a pretty good idea it wasn't a social call, she had in mind. "How the hell did my life get so complicated," I wondered to myself. I carried the newspaper to my room. I began looking first for a place to live, then for a car. I couldn't take much more of that truck. It was not only hurting me, it was also too large for my current needs. I made a few calls, then drove a few miles to the house of a man who wanted to sell his daughters car. I test drove the ten year old Metro. It was tiny and it had automatic transmission. The automatic met my needs. The thing was so small it was painful to enter and exit. It also wouldn't get out of it's own way. I almost didn't buy it. I wouldn't have, except I dreaded the idea of driving the truck home. I was about to write the man a check, when he asked. "You going to keep the truck, I guess?" "Actually the truck is gone, just as soon as I get the tags switched. You interested in buying it?" "No, but my nephew is looking for an old truck. If you can wait a minute, I'll give him a call." I stayed in the yard until the nephew arrived. He took a good look at the truck then made me an offer. It wasn't a real good offer but it was within the range I had in mind. I think the main reason he bought the truck, was that his uncle allowed him to make payments on the Metro. I walked away with two hundred bucks and the tittle to the Metro Actually I drove away in the tiny Geo. As I drove it to the motel, I noticed a lot of little things wrong with the car. Things I hadn't noticed before. Things a girl probably wouldn't even tell her father. I was in no condition to work on a car, so I drove it to an oil change station. I had the oil and transmission fluid changed. I dropped almost a hundred bucks but the car's transmission changed better when I left the Quick Lube. I parked the Geo two doors down from my room. Without the truck in front, there was a good chance, I would be presumed out. If nothing else, I had a couple of days before I would have to worry about a car bomb. I opened the bag-o-burger bag. Lunch was back to burgers again. I didn't mind. I wasn't all that hungry anyway. My cell phone chirped, "Hello," I said into it. "Mason, are you all right? I thought you might be hurt again." the woman's voice asked. "No, I'm fine. Vette isn't, but I am. Where are you calling form?" I asked Pam Thompson. "I'm working right now. I am calling from a pay phone on campus." "I don't suppose you know who planted the bomb in my apartment?" I asked. "How would I know? You told me to go home, remember?" she said angrily. "I just wondered." "You don't think, I did it? Look, I deserved what you said to me. I was angry at myself, not you. Even if I had been angry at you, I would never plant a bomb. If I wanted to kill you, I would look you in the eye when I pulled the trigger." "Okay, I believe you. So why did you call?" I asked. "To see if you were all right. Also, to offer you a place to stay." "Not a good idea, whoever planted that bomb may still have plans for me. I am not about to have another death on my conscience." I said. "It doesn't matter, nobody has to know where you are. Come on Mason you can't like staying in that motel. Besides, I need someone to water my plants," she said with a laugh. "Okay, but no plant watering," I said. I figured, she would still be running to the President with everything she heard. The trick was to make sure she heard only what I wanted her to hear. She might be useful at that. "So, meet me for coffee at the commons. I can give you a key to my apartment. I won't be getting off until eight." "Fine, what time?" I asked. "Make it five, you might as well buy me dinner." she said. "The restaurant down there closes at three." I informed her. "Okay meet me at Eddie's then," she corrected herself. "See you at five." I punched 'end' on the cell phone. I had a few hours to kill, so I called Roy Sykes. I was pissed at Roy, but not so much that I wouldn't try to get information from him. He actually answered the phone himself. "Roy, this is Mason, I called to see if the arson guys figured out the cause of the fire." "Sure, it was an explosion." He said in a nasty voice. "Okay, I'll play along. What caused the explosion?" I asked. "Natural Gas, it looks like somebody blew out all your pilot lights and turned on all the gas. Stove and furnace, the whole works. Somehow that officer caused a spark. The arson guys couldn't find enough left to determine how the spark was rigged." "It wouldn't be hard. Anything from a Army trip wire, to a couple of kitchen matches taped to the door. I wonder why Vette didn't smell the gas from the hall?" I asked. "The goof ball who did it, probably taped the door crack." he said. "Wouldn't want you to notice it either." "Have you searched that sorority house yet?" I asked. Thinking of the Book. "Not yet, we didn't figure there wasn't any hurry. We got it sealed off." he said. "I would do it pretty quick. Things have a way of turning up missing." I said. I had a feeling he was hoping for just that to happen. "Well you ain't me. Look, unless you got some more advice, I have things to do." he said. "I think, I am just about through with you." I said nastily. I quickly cut the connection before he could. It was a small victory but sometimes they are most satisfying. There wasn't much I could do at the moment, so I drove the Fiesta to Avery. I ate lunch in a McDonalds. After my grease, I drove to the International Camera Exchange. James was his usual sour self. I had to explain about the second fire. The word hadn't reached Avery yet. "Mr. Mason, you are really having a run of bad luck. So I guess you want to replace the two camera's I sold you last week?" "That's about it James, what are the chances?" I asked. "For the same ones?" he asked. I nodded. "No chance at all." "Come on James, there has to be somebody in this country with those cameras." "Mason, you have had such rotten luck, I'll call the New York office. I wouldn't put much faith in them having either of the camera's." I watched him go to the telephone. He dialed a number. I watched him speak into the phone, but I couldn't hear the words. "No luck, all those cameras have been shipped to the stores. You might try our Charlotte store." "I don't think, I want to drive all the way down there. Can't I just pay you for them, then have them shipped up?" I asked. "I told you last time, no store manager is going to release a one of a kind item." James looked even more miserable, if that were possible. He finally just walked away from me. I waited a few minutes, then turned to leave. "Mason," He called after me. "Did you know old man Flynt?" he asked. "No, who is old man Flynt?" I asked. "He was a local photographer. He collected cameras, you might want to look through his estate. We are selling it for the widow Flynt." James said. "James, I really don't want to buy antiques." I said. "Most of these have never been out of the box." He promised me. I followed him to the storeroom. He pointed me to four large cardboard cartons in a corner. "How long have you had these?" I asked. "Came in on Saturday, I hope I can get to sorting them by Friday. The box on the bottom left is all thirty-five millimeter cameras, I think." He said with what passed for a smile. It took both of us to lift the top box. I experienced a great deal of pain lifting it. God only knows what was hidden inside the cardboard. I opened the top of the large box and found it filled with smaller boxes. I sure hoped their was something inside I could use. I hated to think I went through all that for nothing. The boxes themselves told me nothing. Most were in either German or Japanese. James explained that Flynt had been an Army officer. Most of the cameras had been bought at foreign PX stores. Half way down the box, I found a Japanese Petri 7S. I recognized it, when I first saw the camera. I had never owned one, but a friend of mine had bought one in Viet Nam. The camera was made in the sixties. Even when I saw my friend's it was out dated. I checked it over and found it worked perfectly. It appeared to be the original from which the Russian had been copied. It probably wasn't, there were a lot of camera makers in the sixties. There might have been a dozen such cameras. Fixed lens thirty five millimeter SLR's were common. The new point and shoot cameras were the modern equivalent. It's sharpness was unknown, but I decided to give it a try. There would be no returns on this batch of cameras. I wouldn't do that to a widow anyway. Deep in the box I also found a 35millimeter Ricoh 500C Range Finder Camera. I didn't know much about the range finder, but I had owned a SLR by the same company. It had been acceptable. I didn't bother to look farther. I carried the two vintage cameras to the desk. "Okay James, if the woman doesn't want and arm and leg for them, I will take these two." I said. "Neither of those are collector pieces. Tell you what, I'll throw in another set of those auxiliary lenses and we can call it three hundred even." He said. "What can you do for me on a couple of Vivitar strobes?" I asked. I really didn't want to return to Avery Photo. "Two strobes and the cameras with extra glass, four fifty," he said. I gave him my plastic. I wanted to keep this batch separate from the first. He tossed in a couple of rolls of film. Since I had a couple of hours left before I was to meet Pam, I shot the film outside a one hour lab. When I had the film processed and checked, it was time to head to Eddie's. With the means to fill my obligations in hand, I felt much better about turning my attention back to the problem of the moment. Who planted the bomb in my apartment? I ran it over and over again in my mind. I wanted it to be Nick. Mostly because, he would be the most likely and the easiest to finger. It kept coming up no. Nick would have sent someone to put a bullet up my butt on Saturday. He wouldn't have waited until Monday. If it had been Gina, she would have simply told her brother, it needed doing. If she had done that, I would have the same bullet up my butt. It could have been one of the girls, I guess. I just couldn't see a college kid setting a trap like that. Sure, they could have figured it out from TV. I just couldn't imagine them doing it. Doctor Mattie Mitchell came to mind, but she really had no motive. She didn't even know that I had taped her. Nobody on the tape knew about it. Somebody had tried to light my fire, but I couldn't figure out who it might be. Eddie's was pretty much empty. Everyone else was still at their nine to five jobs. I almost wished I was. Thompson and Tuttle occupied a booth in the rear. I joined them. "Hi Bobby, I hope you are watching your ass," I said. "I'm trying, boss." He said. "You can, for sure, knock of the boss crap now." I said pleasantly. "I know, I liked working for you a lot more than the chief." "How is the chief by the way?" I asked Pam. "He seems right happy now that everything is back to, more or less, normal." she said. "Are things really back to normal?' I asked. "He thinks they are." Bobby answered. "I got news for everyone, there is going to be a stink, like you never smelled before this is over." "I know, it is just a matter of time before the press gets rolling on this. Man it has everything, sex, drugs, murder, and rock and roll. I can just see Freeda now on the six o'clock news. It is sure going to ruin a lot of people." Pam said, shaking her head. "By the way Bobby, the chief is going to pay you for your time that night, isn't he?" I asked. "Funny you should mention that. He is going to pay all right. He raised all kinds of hell, even called the president to see if he could get out of it. After the call, he calmed right down. I even got time and a half for the whole night." "That doesn't sound like the two of them. Must be something, I don't know, going on." I said. "Anyway Mason, here is the key to my place," Pam said making sure Bobby knew. "Bobby, I would rather nobody knew about me and Pam. I don't want her in any danger." I said. "I understand, you aren't sure this is over," he said. "I'm sure, it's not over." I replied. "Well, you two lovebirds have dinner, I have to go back to work." Bobby said. "You might want to keep a close eye on the Willis house. I expect people are going to take an interest in it. That is if there is anything left in the house." "Far as I know, nobody has gone near it." Bobby said. "Problem is the cops haven't gone near it either." I informed him. "It is my understanding they threw some crime scene tape on it, then left. They told me they haven't even searched it yet. I don't know what in the hell they are waiting for." I said. "Got me, I didn't know there was anything in there worth finding." he said. "There probably isn't, at least not any more." I said. Bobby left Pam and I alone. After the waitress took our order Pam said, "I want you to know how sorry I am." "About what?" I asked coolly. "About ratting you out to the President. About Vette getting killed. It is all so awful." "You had nothing to do with Vette's death. As for the other, I doubt your talking to the President did any more than get Freeda's jewelry removed. It is probably and improvement." I said not meaning a word of it. "I hope we can be friends again," she said. "I do think that is a possibility. After all we are going to be spending some quality time together." I said smiling. "I certainly hope so," she added hopefully. Dinner was difficult. I was never very good at eating with one hand, or light conversation. Pam returned to patrolling the campus, I headed for her apartment. It wasn't all that far from Eddie's. As soon as I dumped my plastic bags full of clothing, I began searching her apartment. I looked through everything and found nothing. If she had anything to hide she had done it well. I sat for a few minutes on her sofa, trying to figure what was missing from the apartment. Everything seemed to be just as it had been on my last visit. Still something seemed missing. I watched TV for a couple of hours, until she arrived. Pam and I talked for a couple of more hours. "Well, I think I will turn in. How about letting me have a pillow and blanket?" "Why?" she asked. She really didn't seem to understand. "For the sofa," I said pointing to it. "I thought, you might want to sleep in the bed with me." She seemed mystified that it even needed saying. "I don't think that would be a good idea," I said. "Why, are you afraid I will attack you," She said with a smile. "I doubt it. I would really rather sleep on the sofa." I stated it forcefully. "Like hell," Pam said. "I didn't invite you here to let you sleep on the sofa. You don't have to do anything, but at least share my bed." "The truth is I can't do anything." I replied. "So that's what Vette meant?" Pam softened. "Don't worry Mason, I would kind of like to just cuddle. Women don't get near enough of that." I awoke looking at the bare walls in Pam's bedroom. The room could just as easily have been inside a Holiday Inn. I found her bathroom pretty well stocked with all the women's junk. I looked at myself in the mirror, something I try not to do too often. I looked about like I felt. The swelling around my one good eye had almost gone. It still had a deep blue color. It would fade soon enough, I knew. What really upset me was that I had no idea what to do next. I looked as disgusted with myself as I felt. After a quick shower, I headed out to breakfast. The phone call caught me half way to the commons. "Mason, this is Mike. You about through with my cameras?" he asked. "Funny you should mention that," I said. "Mason, I'm not going to like this am I?" he asked. "I don't know, how attached to those cameras were you?" I asked in reply. "Not more than eight hundred bucks worth," he answered. "I'm just sitting down to breakfast, I can be at your office in an hour and a half. Have a bill ready for me. I need a real one, since I am going to submit it to my insurance company. Make a note on it, the charge is for equipment rented to me, then lost in a fire." "You're kidding me? You're not going to try to get the insurance company to pay for equipment lost in a fire a month ago?" "No, lost in a fire two days ago. Somebody blew hell out of my apartment building. Your cameras went with it." I informed him. "Who did it?" Mike asked. "I don't know, but I sure as hell intend to find out." I replied. "You don't think it was your ex do you?" "No, she didn't even know where I lived. This is somebody new." I said. "Mason, you better move back here. At least, there is only one person here, who hates you that much." Mike said with a chuckle. "I may just do that," I replied. Something nagged at me all during breakfast. I couldn't pin it down, but I felt as though something was sliding around my battered brain on greased rails. I finally had to just give up. It would either come to me or it wouldn't. There was just no way to force it. When I walked through Mike's door, he was waiting. "Would you like to rent some more junk I got a whole storeroom filled with useless crap." he said with a rather smug smile. "From that smile, I assume you are charging me retail, new prices for that worn out crap." "What do you care? You're getting it all back from the insurance company anyway." he said. "True, but that may be a month from now. I have to eat in the meantime." I replied. "Here," he said. "Eat this." I took a look at the bill. The charge was eight hundred and change, "Mike, I didn't know you were such a thief." I said laughing at him. "That's alleged thief. I've never been convicted of anything. So, is there anything else." "Not unless you have a computer and digital camera laying around." I said. "Computer no, digital camera yes." he said. "You are kidding," I replied. "Not in the least. I bought it at auction with some video cameras. I personally have never used it. I got no use for that crap." he said. I knew Mike had a computer, but his specialty was video. He worked mostly security for the manufacturing plants, in and around Avery. "So what kind of crap camera is it?" I asked. "Some kind of Apple shit," he said. "I don't know anybody with apple computers. Do you?" "No, but it should work on a PC. At least I would think so." I said. "Nope, I done called the company. It only works on that Mac crap." "Then I can't use it. But thanks anyway." I said turning to leave. "Mason, you going to move back to town?" he asked. "I don't know, I kind of like Greenpoint. Something kind of nice about a small quiet town." I replied. I thought he was going to fall over laughing. "I didn't mention it before, but your face looks like a small quiet town." he said bursting into laugher yet again. "That was cruel Mike. Look I have to run. I really am sorry about your cameras." I said. "Don't be, this money will let me replace them with some new fiber optic crap. I am actually upgrading thanks to you." I waved, as I passed from his door into the morning sunlight. During the drive home I gave some thought to my new clients. They couldn't reach me at the moment. I really was going to have to find a place to set up shop. The investigation into my explosion could take the cops months. I couldn't hide out with Pam all that time. We both had lives. I made a decision during my drive back to Greenpoint. Whoever had planted that bomb in my place, would still be around next week. Everything else had to go on hold, at least until I got back into business. Everything except the funeral for Vette. With that in mind, I drove to a department store in the town's new mall. I explained my problem to the bored young clerk. He assured me, in a not too sincere voice, that my suit would be ready by closing. Closing was nine that evening. I wrote him a check for five hundred dollars to cover the suit and various other purchases. I am certainly not very fashion conscious. The suit was a simple blue striped thing. I stopped in the common area of the mall for coffee. I sat with a vending machine newspaper, trying to decide what my next move should be. I half heartedly looked at the apartments in the classified section. I really didn't have any desire to rent another apartment. I doubted, I could ever find one as unique. I tried the offices for rent section. I thought I might just rent a small office space somewhere. If I did, I could be back in business tomorrow. I needed to work, at the least I needed to plan to work. In looking at the buildings for rent, I found they were going to be expensive. The best thing I could figure, would be office space. The problem was, if I took just office space, it would be too small for shooting pictures. I was pretty disappointed in everything I read. I left the mall, without even planning to call anyone. I had nothing to do, since I had nowhere to put anything. I drove aimlessly until I found myself at the commons. I stopped at the small drug store for more coffee. It was to kill time more than anything else. The young woman named Rachel exclaimed, "God Mr. Mason, what happened to you?" "I fell down a flight of stairs," I said. "I'm sorry, are you okay now?" "I'm fine," I replied. She walked away, while I brooded over my coffee. I glanced out the plate glass window. "Rachel who owns that empty building across the street," I almost had to shout. "You mean the old boutique?" I nodded. "Mr. Simmons, he owns this one and that one." "How do I get in touch with him?" I asked. Sally laughed as only a teenager can. It was filled with an accusation that I was a complete dumb ass. "Mr. Simmons is the pharmacist." She turned to look at the older man working in the pharmacy. "Mr. Simmons, Mr. Mason wants to talk to you about Dianne's Boutique." It took Simmons a few minutes to finish up, whatever it was that he was doing in the pharmacy. I watched as he limped to the fountain counter. "Yes sir, what can I do for you?" he asked. "I was wondering what the rent is on the building across the street?" I asked knowing I would never be able to afford it. "To tell you the truth, I am planning to sell it. You interested in buying?" he asked with a somber look. "Not really, I just need a place to set up shop for a few months. If business is good, I might want to buy it. If business isn't, then I probably wouldn't even need that much space." I answered honestly. "I really want to sell it," he said. I waited for him to elaborate. He never did. He simply stood quietly as he stared at me. I gave up waiting for him to give me an answer. "Well, it's empty right now. How about renting it to me until you find a buyer. It would be more attractive to a buyer, if someone were using it." I said trying to put a positive spin on it. "Would you agree to vacate in thirty days, if it were sold?" he asked. "Sure, why not. Of course, I might not be able to afford the rent." I said honestly. "Diane paid seven hundred," he said. He noticed the look on my face. "Of course," he hurried on. "I wasn't trying to sell it at that time. How about five hundred a month, on a month to month lease. I'll guarantee you six months without an increase, unless it is sold first." he said. "Can I look at it?" I asked. "Sure," he said returning to the pharmacy for the keys. I walked across the street to the building. I found a small parking lot in the rear. The lot would hold no more than three cars. No doubt, when the building had been built in the thirties, parking wasn't as large a concern as it is today. Standing in the parking lot, I looked back to the building. I noted a metal fire escape leading to a door above the first floor. The building was only one story in the front, but two in the rear. I returned to examine the front and found the building deceptive. The roof was probably sixteen feet above the street. Not enough for a two-story building, but taller than I had thought. The rear the building was taller by four or more feet. I paced off the exterior of the building and found it to be forty feet long and sixteen feet wide. Not a great deal of space, but more than I would need. While in the rear, I opened the lower fire door, then entered the dark building. I found an electrical switch beside the door. I flipped it expecting nothing to happen. Light flooded the space. For about one second it seemed bright. The contrast with the darkness vanished instantly. I found myself in a dimly lit room. I judged the room, based on my exterior pacing, to be sixteen by twenty. There were no walls between this room and the front room. The space was divided by a wooden hand rail and four carpeted steps. The waist high rail ran almost the width of the room. The steps were probably four feet wide. The front room was a duplicate of the rear. It did have two small display windows in the exterior wall, facing the street. I was surprised to find that the walls seemed freshly painted even in the dim light. Dianne probably did that before she opened. The walls were filled with holes, probably from hanging shelves. The plaster, otherwise, seemed in good shape. In the rear corner, stood a circular metal staircase. It was narrow and small. It led to the second floor. Beside the staircase was a small cubicle housing a toilet and sink. I climbed the tight stairway to the second floor. The space above the shop was pretty much unfinished. It had probably been a storage space for the shops which had over the years occupied the downstairs. The space, I estimated it at sixteen by twenty. It seemed pretty certain, that it was the same as the rear room in the store downstairs. On further inspection, I found a bathroom complete with shower stall. The bathroom walls were the only partitions in the room. I opened the rear door, I found the metal fire escape landing to be larger than it had appeared from the ground. The landing was at least four feet by six feet. I stepped on it carefully, I certainly didn't need another fall. I found it secure, with only minor rust on the rails. I returned to the lower floor in search of the fuse box. I found it tucked into the outside wall of the half bath. The fuse box, at least, had been updated. Unfortunately not to modern standards. It had gone past the glass fuse stage, but only as far as fusetrons. The update had probably been done in the fifties or earlier. I checked the heating system. I couldn't do much more than look at the unit. The gas unit was suspended from the ceiling in the front section of the building. It also rested against the slight drop in the ceiling. That drop would be the bottom of the front wall in the upstairs. No doubt the unit supplied a minimum of heat up there. The downstairs had one house type air conditioner protruding through the wall on the side of the building. It would probably do little or no good. The upstairs space, would be even more cramped than the space I had rented from Virginia. The downstairs would make a pretty good studio. I almost talked myself into taking the space. The only reason I didn't take it, was that while waiting for Simmons to find the key, I had remembered the vacant building on the strip. It might prove less expensive and more to my liking. When I returned the key to Simmons, I explained, "I have one more place to check." I also stopped for one more coffee at the fountain counter. "Mr. Mason," Rachel whispered. "Diane didn't pay seven hundred for that place. She told me she paid Four fifty." "Thank you," I mouthed as I walked from the store. When I arrived at the cellar, I found that the building's owner lived in Avery. However, I was informed, the manager of the cellar had the key. I was allowed to browse through the building, even though the manager couldn't quote me any price. This building was considerably narrower than the one in the commons. It like the Cellar had a basement. The basement had been finished. It appeared to have been used as a storage space by the last tenant. The previous tenant hadn't cleaned it well. There were boxes and odds and ends of furniture scattered about. I figured the upstairs at twelve wide and thirty odd feet long. The basement was the same. The basement was dry. There was a bathroom on both floors, neither of which had a shower. The manager placed a call to the building's owner for me. I dropped any idea of renting the space, when the owner told me he wanted a thousand a month for the space. I said, thank you and hung up. I moved from the bar to a table. I needed to consider my options. One of the bartenders from down stairs saw me sitting alone. She approached, then took a seat, "You that guy asking about the three college girls?" "That was me all right." I replied. "Shame about them. I knew they were weird, but I had no idea." she said. She must have read about 'poor Elmer' in the paper. The local paper had latched onto the story last night while I slept. The pressure was going to be building quickly. Any thought Sykes had of hushing the murder up had to be a distant memory by now. "I didn't either." I said not really paying much attention to her. Not until she asked, "You dating that campus cop?" "Which one?" I asked. "Not ole Bobby, that's for sure. The other one. The one you brought in here." "Not really," I said. "Good, you seemed too smart for that." "I don't know, I'm not all that smart. What is her problem anyway?" I asked off handedly. "You don't know?" she asked. "Not really, we were just working the investigation together. She seems a little different, if you get my drift?" The bartender nodded. "She is a little strange. She is also gay." "Really?" I asked not tipping my hand. "Sure, when she first came here last year, she came in all the time." "Did she bring her girls with her?" I asked. "If you mean, did she hit on the college girls, the answer is no. She did hit on Marcy once. Marcy looks a little butch but she isn't." I remembered Marcy flirting with Pam. She hadn't been flirting at all. She had been making fun of Pam. "So, why did she stop coming around?" I asked. "I think somebody at the school suggested, she stay away from the college kids. You know, afraid she might get a little drunk and hit on one of them." "Whoever talked to her, gave her some damned good advice." I said. "You know it. Just to change the subject, you gonna' come down to see me?" she asked. "You bet, but not tonight. I have to visit the family of the woman who got killed." I said. "Did you know the woman who got blown up?" She asked. "Yeah, we were old friends." I said not explaining that it was my apartment which had exploded. "Come down anytime," she said. "Hell, I'll even buy you a drink." "That is probably the best offer I've had all year," I said smiling. The young woman stood to leave. "You might get a better one." She said as she walking away. So Pam is gay. No wonder she didn't mind that I could get it up. She didn't know that when she invited me to share her bed. I couldn't help but wonder why she had made the invitation. Everything about the situation seemed strange. I drove to the mall for my suit. I was surprised to find it ready and waiting. I drove from the mall to Pam's apartment. Pam was waiting for me. "You want me to fix dinner?" she asked. "No, are you going to meet Vette's family?" I asked. "Sure," she said simply. "We can stop on the way. I will buy you dinner." I said. "Okay, but not McDonalds," she agreed with a smile. On the drive to Avery, I was tempted to ask her about the bartender's story. I couldn't find a way to work it into the conversation, so I didn't force it. The funeral home was filled with cops when we arrived. I knew a couple of them, I introduced Pam to the ones I knew. Most of the others introduced themselves to Pam. As was the custom Pam wore her uniform. It was hard not to recognize Vette's sister. She was almost a twin. Not in age, but in appearance. I walked across the room to where she sat. "Hello, My names is Mason. I knew your sister. I am truly sorry." I said, not really knowing what her response might be. She surely knew that the bomb which killed Vette was meant for me. "Mr. Mason, Evette spoke of you often," the sister said taking my hand. "Most of the bad is true, and none of the good." I replied with a smile. "I don't think that is truth. Evette thought the world of you. She called me shortly before the accident. She was happy to have met you again." "I really did enjoy seeing her again. I just hate this had to happen to her. She was really a wonderful person." I said. Before either of us could go on, Pam arrived. "Ma'am, my Name is Pam Thompson, I knew your sister only a short time, but she seemed like a really nice woman." Pam said in a rush. "Thank you Pam," the sister said coolly. Pam sensed something was wrong. I waited for her to leave. When she had gone, Vette's sister said, "When Evette called over the weekend, she told me about that woman. Evette didn't trust her. Mr. Mason, Evette was a good judge of character." The warning was plain. "I'll watch myself. Is there anything I can do?" I asked. "I don't think so, the police are providing everything." Her eyes were misty when she added. "It is going to be a lovely funeral. You know the Avery PD is doing a lot for the funeral. The bastards don't know, Evette told me how badly they treated her. I would have told them to go to hell, except that some of the officers were good to her." "I know, cops really are a brotherhood. At least until they get to be bosses." I admitted. A Greenpoint lieutenant approached, so I walked away. I found Pam talking to a group of Greenpoint officers. I stood on the fringe of the group until I caught her eye. " Mason, I am going to stay in Avery a while. I can get a ride home." she said it with no emotion. I really didn't mind a bit. "Tell you what call if you need a ride." I said. I wasn't angry, I was just ready to leave. "I can get a ride don't worry." she said. I couldn't read anything into her remarks, so I gave them no weight. I actually was happy to be making the half hour drive alone. The tin can car carried me back to Greenpoint without any protests. I watched a little TV while I waited for Pam. I had thoughts about her running through my head. I didn't really want to confront her with any of them. I was actually happy when she hadn't arrived by eleven. I watched a couple of minutes of the news before I drifted off to sleep on the sofa. The TV news was playing up the murders but made only vailed references to the Satanism or what ever it was. I awoke the next morning at six a.m. Pam woke me as she opened the apartment door. I sat up as she entered the room. "I didn't mean to wake you," she said quietly. "It's okay, I need to get up and start moving anyway," I said. "Give me a few minutes first," she said. "I have to get ready for work. I have to be in at eight." "Sure," I said as I fell back on the sofa. Sleep overtook me. The next time I woke was when Pam left the house. I showered and dressed quickly. I went to the commons for breakfast. After breakfast, I walked across the street to the drugstore. I found Simmons and we had a nice talk. I offered him four hundred a month for the building, with the understanding, I would vacate within thirty days, should he find a buyer. He reluctantly agreed. I spend the day, retracing my steps of the first day, in my new apartment. By the end of the day, I had managed to get a cushion sofa up the fire escape, and build bookcases in the lower rear room. The phone would be turned on the next morning. I met Pam at the apartment around five. I explained to her that I had a new place. I also explained, this would be my last night as her house guest. To celebrate, I took her to dinner again. I looked across at her, all during dinner. I knew something was wrong, but I still couldn't put a finger on it. If she were gay, she would have even less of a reason to harm me. I had a bad feeling about her, but I couldn't figure out how or why. It didn't make since that she would be connected to the explosion. The next morning, I moved my few clothes to the building in the commons. I spent the day collecting odds and ends of furniture for the room above my studio. Everything I bought was dependent on my being able to get it up the stairs. A folding table and chairs became dining furniture. A used dorm refrigerator, on a plywood and block table, became my coke cooler. Beside the refig, sat a quartz toaster oven. On a shelf under them, resided a large plastic bag filled with paper plates and plastic forks. It wasn't a perfect existence, but it would do for the time being. The area was eerie at night. When the businesses closed at nine, the streets became deserted. I sat on the fire escape, in the dark and listened. Not a sound came from either the street or the houses a half block away. I slept fitfully that night. I awoke the next morning as tired as I was the night before. I presumed that it was the strangeness of my surroundings. I opened a pack of donuts for breakfast. A couple of the chocolate confections with my coffee, woke me up. I showered, then dress in my work clothes. I was already headed for the door when my insurance agent called, actually it was his secretary. The company had a check ready for me to pickup. I drove over to Avery for the check, then to the bank. Along with the check, I had a notice that my business insurance was canceled. I really couldn't blame them. Why should the company share in my incredibly bad luck. I drove to my bank hoping to see Shirley. I was informed by the teller, who took my check, Shirley had the day off. I could leave her a message if I liked. I didn't really have anything to say, so I declined the offer. Back in Greenpoint, I drove straight to O'Malley's Warehouse. I told the cashier, when I entered, "You guys need to give me a time card." She didn't really recognize me, but she smiled anyway. I had discovered the laptop I bought was too slow. I looked at a faster one, but found it far too expensive. I gave up on the computer, at least until I had given it more thought. I walked to the TV aisle. I picked up another clock radio. It was just like the one I had bought not more than a week or two before. I also loaded the brother to my last TV. I found an even less expensive VCR, I stopped to look at a movie on the demo VCR. It hit me like a hammer. I watched the couple on the film doing, what I guess is called, a simulation of the sexual act. Nothing pornographic just a lot of rolling around naked on the bed. I could barely contain my excitement. I was impatient in the check out line. I wanted to scream at the lady ahead of me to hurry. I paid for everything with my credit card, then pulled the Fiesta to the door. It was tough getting the boxed TV inside the hatch door, but I managed. Once the car was loaded, I called Avery on my cell phone. A five minute call convinced me I had the right idea. I was home by five in the afternoon. Even after my second drive to Avery. I didn't mind so much. I was too excited to wait around the house anyway. I almost went nuts with anticipation. I had the comfort of knowing, no one would be planting any more bombs. Actually there had never been any reason to plant a second one. The first one had achieved its purpose. I tried to watch my new TV, it was a futile attempt. Without cable, I could find nothing worth watching. I drank a whole pot of coffee, and even a couple of glasses of instant iced tea. By two a.m. I was ready to do what had to be done. First I drove to Pam's apartment. I noted that her car was gone. I had expected as much. From there I drove to the campus police office. Pam's car was not in the parking lot. I walked to the door, just to make sure the place was empty. I parked the Fiesta behind Bonner Hall. The walk was only a couple of blocks. I moved along the campus walkway, then around the building to the rear. I moved quietly, even though there were no lights on in the building. At first I didn't see Pam's car. I found it parked in an old frame garage. I climbed the wooden stairs to the rear porch on the house. I used the lock picks, borrowed from Mike on the second visit to Avery. Mike could have done it a lot quicker. It didn't matter, I had all the time in the world. Once inside the house, I climbed the carpeted stairs. I listen at first one door then another, until I heard the sound of deep breathing. I knew I had the right room. I opened the door quietly. The light of the moon, through the window, illuminated the lump under the white sheet. I moved quietly to the chair at the foot of the bed. I found Pam's pistol belt. I quietly removed her ugly automatic. I pushed her uniform to the floor, then turned on the lamp beside the chair. I expected the light to wake one or the other of them, neither moved. I waited a couple of minutes, then worked the slide on the automatic. The sound woke Pam. She looked toward the noise, to see me sitting at the foot of the bed. "You might want to wake your girlfriend," I said quietly. Pam shook her companion, then said in a soft voice. "Wake up Gina." When I saw the woman, sit up in the bed. I was a lot more surprised than either of them. I had expected Mattie Mitchell. By the time I recovered enough to wonder where the President was, I heard her speak from my right. "If I were you Mr. Mason, I would drop that pistol." I kept the gun pointed in the direction of the two women in the bed. I glanced at Mattie just long enough to see the small revolver in her hand. "I don't think so. You are going to have a hell of a time explaining all the bodies in this room." I'll give her this, she was a quick thinker. "Not really, you broke in and shot whoever it is you are going to shoot. I heard the shot or shots and came running. I had to kill you in self defense." "God Mattie, you do think fast on your feet." I said with true admiration. "You don't get to where I am, without a quick mind," she said. "Wouldn't you hate to lose your girl friend?" I asked. "Which one do you think is my girl friend?" She asked with a small smile. "I have no idea. Why don't you tell me?" I suggested. "I'd rather you tell me. I would like to see how much you know." "I obviously knew Thompson was a dike. I didn't know about Gina though. Just for the hell of it, are you one too." I asked stalling. "Who me? I thought you could tell from the video. I like men." "I thought maybe you went both ways?" I asked. "Afraid not," she said. "I have my little quirks, but that isn't one of them." "You are the one who found out about little Pam?" I asked. "Sure, I got a call from a former student. This is a small town you know. Pam was hitting the college bars. I told her to stop, before she hit on a student." "Why didn't you just fire her?" I asked. "Why, she has been very useful. She unlike me, does go both ways." She gave me a bright smile. "No one can accuse me of sleeping my way to the top. Little ole Pam does that for me." "That makes you what? a pimp," I asked. "Sticks and stones," she said still smiling. "Tell me what you know and who else knows it?" "I know you either did it yourself or had Pam rig my apartment." I said. She nodded. "To destroy the video tape of your little party." "Close but no cigar. I stole the tape. The explosion was to hide it's disappearance. You just never know when information like that will be of service." "Then why the trap?" I asked. "I know, I really wanted to just burn the place, but Gina insisted that I take you out. Something to do with saving that slut daughter of hers. I tried to tell her it was too late, but she wouldn't listen. She had some notion that without your testimony, Nick could get Sophia off." It was remarkable that neither Gina or Pam said a word. It seems that only Mattie and I remained capable of speech. "What took you so long to figure it out? I figured you would be knocking on my door the next day." Mattie asked. "I went down the wrong trail. I figured it was Nick, trying to help his niece. It didn't make much sense, but after my last encounter with Nick, I wanted it to be him. To tell you the truth, the tape meant nothing to me. When it didn't show the three sorority sisters, I forgot all about it. I also didn't know that Pam had stayed to watch Mike install the cameras. I had given her instructions to take a walk while Mike did his thing." "Well, she was just doing her job. You know her moonlighting thing." Mattie said. "What gave you the idea that I rigged the explosion." "The video finally worked it's way to the front of my feeble brain. I finally figured that the video was the cause of the explosion. I thought you waited until I left the house to rig it. I had no idea you were waiting for a chance to burglarize it." "Very good, but why me? It could have been anyone." "It started as a guess. Pam had a lover, of that there was no doubt. I mean a regular one. At least I thought so." "Why?" Mattie asked. "Her apartment looks like a motel room. I knew she was spending a lot of time somewhere else. The rest just kind of fit my theory. You busted her for diking around, so you knew." "Pam actually does spend most of her nights here. I never know when I am going to need her talents on short notice." "The book, now that is something I never did figure. I mean what the hell is in that book and who wrote it. You?" I asked. "I didn't write it. That book is no more than a guide to ceremonies for the sisters. I have it at the moment. When Sophia screamed rape, I knew right away. It is all outlined in the book. I went to the house before you. I took the book before I left. Those stupid kids were so nervous they left everything. I should have burned the place to the ground." "It wouldn't have helped Bobby had already been there." I replied. "True but I should have done it before Bobby went." She was almost ready to pull the trigger on her little pistol. "Before you shoot, there is one thing, I think you should know." I said stalling yet again. "Really, what might that be?" Mattie asked. I slowly removed the miniature microphone from under my shit collar. "The Greenpoint police are listening to you." I said with a smile, I didn't feel. At that moment, there was a knock at the front door. Mattie turned to look. She sensed my movement and turned toward me with the pistol again. I shot her in the chest. I waited a little to long. The bullet ripped past my head burying itself in the wall behind me. I watched the gun fly from her hand as she went down. The next noise was the sound of glass breaking. I held the pistol on the two women until I heard footsteps in the hall. When Carlton charged into the room, I tossed the pistol on the floor. "Mason, what the hell is going on?" he asked. "You are about to become a legend." I said. "Take a good look at those two women. They were part of the conspiracy to bomb my apartment. Hold on a second," I said as I lifted my shirt. Removing the adhesive tape from my mini recorder hurt like hell. "This is the whole story told in the words of Mattie Mitchell. You might want to read those two their rights, then explain to them that theirs will be the only version in court. If they are smart they will be in a hurry to give their stories. Try to make everyone except themselves seem guilty." I hoped both women understood, I was giving them a chance to escape the needle. "Carlton," Pam said. "I want to make a statement. Mason is right, Mattie plotted to blow up his apartment and kill him. She and Gina plotted it. I had nothing to do with it. The first I heard was tonight when Mason broke in here. Mattie explained it all. Mason has the tape." "You bitch," Gina said. "What did you think Mattie planned to do. You knew all along that she planned to kill Mason. I had nothing to do with it, no matter what Mattie said on that tape. Pam is the one who gave Mattie the information she needed." "Don't rush ladies, there will be plenty of opportunities to explain. Mason, would you call the local police for me. I think, I want to watch over these two." "Sure, but before everyone gets too far along with this. Where is the tape and the book now?" I asked. "In the safe." Pam answered. "I don't know the combination but it is in there." In the car, while driving to the Greenpoint police station, I said to Carlton, "I sure hope those batteries held out." "Don't matter none they are both trying to talk that detective to death." Carlton grew silent for a minute. "How did you know I would get the note you pinned to the station door." "The chief explained his weird shifts to me, when I first came here. I knew roughly when you would be off. Not necessarily you but whoever the night man would be." "Mason, I can't figure out if you are the luckiest or the unluckiest man in the world. I mean you have been shot, beaten, had two houses burned from under you, but tonight you made up for it." "How so?" I asked. "We changed the shift structure today. I am working through until eight in the morning. The only reason, I went to the station was to take a leak." he said with a dark smile. The trial of the century was actually two trials. The first was for the three 'little sisters' as they became known. The jury hung and the prosecutor refused to re-file the charges. One trial about drugs, murder, sex and rock and roll was about all the county could afford. The second trial was for Gina and Pam. Even with the high-priced lawyers, their own statements and my tape got them convicted. They copped a plea in Vette's death. Manslaughter, with eight years in the joint was the best the court system could do. Justice was done to the woman who set up the explosion, even if I had been the one to administer it. I was satisfied. End