The Deep Prisoner
The opium barrels were rotting. Joseph Hardcastle stood on the deck of the *HMS Cerberus* and stared into the black water of the Firth of Clyde. Thirty-seven barrels of the finest refined opium from the Burmese highlands, sitting in a Scottish loch like pigs at a trough, and not a single one of them could be delivered. The Royal Navy had installed those neutrino-scanners six months ago, and...
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