The Cost of Truth
The rain in Los Angeles didn't wash anything away; it only made the filth shine. Elias sat in his car, the windshield wipers rhythmic and hypnotic, watching the target enter the hotel. Elias didn't need a telescope or a wiretap. He just needed to focus. He was an Information Broker, the best in the city. His gift was simple: he could extract any piece of truth from the ether. A password, a...
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