The Distant Ghost
The brass plaque on the heavy oak door of the Federal Bureau of Integrity had lost its luster. It hung above the entrance to the sub-basement archives, a rectangle of tarnished metal where the engraving of the eagle’s wings had worn smooth, the feathers indistinct, blurred by decades of thumbs and time. It was a symbol of authority that had been handled so often it had ceased to be a symbol and...
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