The Pale Shadows
Act I Who was the man who kept the books when the water rose? Nils Bakken asked the question to the empty cab of his truck, the engine idling with a low, persistent thrum that vibrated through the soles of his boots. The fog on the Stockholm archipelago was not white but a bruised, yellowish grey, thick enough to swallow the headlight beams and return them as a dull, useless glare. He had...
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