The Pale Echo
The train from the suburbs rattled into the city station with a shudder that seemed to vibrate through the bones of Elias Thorne, a sensation that mirrored the tremor in his own hands as he clutched the leather brief case containing the secondary keys to the Meridian Bank’s vault. It was November of 1904, and the air hung heavy with the sulfurous scent of coal smoke and wet wool, a gritty...
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