The Last Deterrent
The rain in Washington doesn't wash things clean. It just makes the grime slicker. I stood under the awning of the abandoned post office on K Street, watching the water pool in the street like oil on a butcher's block, and tried to think about whether I'd made the worst mistake of my life or just the latest in a long line. The file in my coat pocket weighed about four ounces. Inside was enough...
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