The rain fell on Washington like it had a personal grudge against the city. Jack Mercer stood und...
Director Hayes found him there. She always did. She appeared at his shoulder without sound, like a shadow that had learned to wear a suit. "They're calling it the Cuban situation," she said. Her voice was flat, efficient, the voice of a woman who had spent thirty years in intelligence and had no patience for metaphors. Jack lit a cigarette. The flame from his lighter caught the side of his...
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