The Distant Clue
The crystal decanters clinked with a sound like breaking ice, a sharp, brittle note that cut through the low hum of the regimental banquet in the private dining room of the Royal Hotel. Major Elias Thorne stood at the head of the table, his posture rigid, his hands steady as he poured the vintage Bordeaux for General Halloway, ignoring the grinding, persistent ache that lived in the cartilage...
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