The Distant Threshold
Chapter One The necrosis started at the tip of my left index finger, a blackening that spread with the steady, indifferent pace of ink soaking into wet paper. I am Harold Hoyt, a forensic accountant for the Cornwall Tin & Sea Insurance Company, and I have spent the last six weeks trying to clear my name of a two-million-pound embezzlement that I did not commit. The office smells of brine and...
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