The first time Kate Lindsay saw the mask, it was painted on the wall of an abandoned subway station beneath Lower East Street. It was a clown's face, red and grinning, and every five seconds a flicker
"Welcome to the Wallfacer's kingdom," said a voice from the darkness behind her. Kate turned, her hand on the gun she no longer had permission to carry. She was thirty-one, recently decertified by the FBI for refusing to follow orders that violated her conscience, and currently surviving on caffeine and spite. "Who are you?" she asked. "The man you've been looking for," said the voice. "Or the...
0 Commentaires 0 Parts 2 Vue 0 Aperçu