The Golden Farce
Chapter One " You’re telling me that the sash is the evidence?" The question hung in the freezing air of the customs shed, sharp and brittle as the ice forming on the windowpanes. Randi Berg did not answer immediately. He stood in the center of the room, a space no larger than a coffin, surrounded by the smell of wet wool and the metallic tang of the signal box levers that controlled the gate...
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