The Pale Protocol
Chapter One "You're late for the count, Harold." The voice came from the shadows of the archive room, low and flat. Harold Roudebush stood by the filing cabinet, his hand resting on the cold metal edge. He was forty-two, though the grey in his beard and the tremor in his left hand made him look older. Outside, the wind off the moor was stripping the last buds from the hawthorn, a late frost...
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