The Golden Quest
The air in the Sterling & Vane Accounting Firm did not smell of ink or paper, as one might expect of a place dedicated to the quiet stewardship of other men’s fortunes, but of stale tobacco and the metallic tang of fear, a scent that had permeated the mahogany paneling over the course of thirty years until it became the very texture of the walls. Arthur Penhaligon sat in the corner of the...
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