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Word: transfers (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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During all this time, Frankel was losing a race to access his ill-gotten fortune before the law could seize his assets. He set up checking accounts in Rome under Allison's name, hoping to transfer funds from another of his Italian accounts. But that $500,000 stash was frozen by the Italian government. A Justice Department warrant mentioned his loot, and that made selling the diamonds too risky...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: On the Lam with Marty | 11/8/1999 | See Source »

...meticulous accounting of my history and friends that took me weeks to complete. (I do a short version - the last three years - in 20 minutes.) My future base in Flushing tells me they haven't heard from my recruiter since I signed on the dotted line (he got a transfer) and had assumed "I wasn't showing up." Was that still an option...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: He's in the Army Now. Well, Almost... | 11/5/1999 | See Source »

...Then, suddenly, there it was--The Somerville Waste Management Transfer Station. Situated on a bit of an incline, the transfer station--a type of garbage sanitation drop off point for Cambridge--boasted a weathered brick facade and a high chain link fence. The fence was laced with plastic blinders that obscured the first three levels of the enclosed camp. Two breaks in the fence granted the green, white and maroon trucks access; the diesel tri-axles would lumber in with their daily deposits...

Author: By Ariel B. Osceola, | Title: Fifteen Minutes: Down in the Dump | 11/4/1999 | See Source »

...hiked over to the central building. A small man popped out from under a truck and began to rummage through a large toolbox. I continued on to the second floor, where I met Sean Sullivan, the transfer station's manager. Wearing shiny black leather shoes, black dress pants, a tight pea green V-neck sweater and a gold chain, he introduced himself and offered me the tour that I had previously arranged...

Author: By Ariel B. Osceola, | Title: Fifteen Minutes: Down in the Dump | 11/4/1999 | See Source »

...Seeing that the day was done for these men, I decided that I would make my way home as well. I stepped back out onto the deserted main street behind the transfer station and headed back towards the highway. The air was crisp and the sky was clear blue. Gazing off into the distance I noticed the gold peak of the Capital building sparkling like a beacon for my journey back to my red- bricked home...

Author: By Ariel B. Osceola, | Title: Fifteen Minutes: Down in the Dump | 11/4/1999 | See Source »

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