The Mirror Man of 42nd Street
The first time Jack Donovan saw the man play pool, he thought it was a trick. Not a supernatural one—just a mechanical one. The guy at the table on 42nd Street had a cue grip that was too tight, a stance that was too still, and an angle calculation in his eyes that didn't belong to a human being. Donovan had been in the war. He'd seen snipers who could hit a dime at two hundred yards. This was...
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