The Golden Visit
The rain falls in sheets of iron. You stand at the window of the briefing room. The glass is cold against your forehead. Outside, the city of London shudders under a grey sky. It is not a natural grey. It is the color of old ash. You are a Major in the Royal Military Police. Your uniform is crisp. Your hands are steady. They have always been steady. But today, the air tastes of copper. It is...
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