What We Talk About When We Talk About Spies
The night shift started at eleven like it always did. Jerry Walsh pulled up to the curb outside the Shell station on Market Street in Youngstown, Ohio, killed the engine, and waited for the phone to ring. It rang at 11:07. Pickup on Wick Avenue. Dropoff in Warren. Jerry drove. The streets of Youngstown at midnight were the sort of streets that existed in photographs from the seventies showing...
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