The Wistful Cipher
It is a mistake to assume that silence is the only form of loyalty. Director Halloway stood by the window, his back to me, watching the snow settle on the cobblestones of Whitehall. The room was cold, the kind of damp chill that seeps into the joints of a man who has spent forty years hunched over desks. I held the glass lens in my left hand. It was warm from my grip. The ink on the page before...
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