The body lay on the stainless steel table like a puzzle someone had assembled wrong.
Eleanor Ashworth adjusted her magnifying loupes and leaned closer. Inside the corpse's chest cavity, where the heart should have been, was something impossibly wrong: a sphere of hammered gold, approximately the size of a human heart, with tiny engravings along its surface. She could read them without touching. Latin. She traced the words with her eyes: *justice is the only currency that...
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